The Morning After The Onslaught Of The Spanish Armada

After the Germany/Spain game, I stayed overnight in Mannheim with two good friends. After a long post-mortem discussion in which the game, Germany, and the rest of Europe were dissected and reassembled in better shape by 1 in the morning, I fell asleep and only rose at 8 o'clock after both my friends had left for work.

It is always a little difficult staying in someone else's flat, especially when they are not in it. First I stubbed my toe getting into the shower, which led to a certain amount of blood and cursing. In my efforts to find a plaster, I must have searched through 14 different drawers and 8 cupboards.

They had kindly made me a pot of coffee, which I drink while smoking a cigarette. I had been told I might smoke, but I couldn't find an ashtray and really didn't want to search through another 28 cupbaords till I found one, so I smoked it at an open window. While I tipped the ash into the large ashtray of the environment, it didn't look as if I could do the same with the cigarette stub, so I investigated which bin would be suitable. However, my friends apparently do not just separate bio-waste from recyclable waste, but also paper from plastic. There were so many different bins that I gave up and finally wrapped the cigarette stub in a piece of tissue which I took with me when I left.

I had a similar dilemma with my coffee cup. I would have preferred to wash it but the dishwasher was obviously the cup's target location - however, everyone has their own dishwasher system, and this one was no exception. It took me several minutes to work it out.

I was confronted with the final problem when I came to leave the flat. Armed with the two pillows and duvet I had brought with me, plus my overnight bag and my handbag, I found that it wasn't possible to close the front door - something in the lock was jamming, and it wasn't one of my pillows.

I despaired. Was I going to have to stay here for ever, or at least until they came home?
Fortunately we live in the age of technology, as I have mentioned before. I came back into the flat, located the phone and called up the phone book, which behold, contained my friend's phone number at work. And fortunately he was at his desk and was able to instruct me in the trick of How To Close The Door.

Ah, and then finally I was able to drive to the office and weep on the shoulders of fellows and colleagues likewise in mourning from the onslaught of the Spanish Armada. Today we lament, tomorrow we work again.