Kyoto, Japan: Temple, Shrine, Temple, Shrine...

I recently went to Japan as we had an extended break at work. Having been in Korea for two-and-a-half years, I kept on thinking I should take advantage of living so close to The Land of the Rising Sun. It’s only an hour flight from Seoul. After being lied to by the check-in lady and laughed at by the man at immigration I made it to Kyoto and dropped my bags off at my hostel.

My first stop was at the Yasaka Shrine (founded 656), I hadn’t planned on visiting this place, but as it was at the end of my street it would have been rude not to.

The shrine accommodated a main gate, a stage, many statues and, of course, a crab stick stall. All other shrines I visited didn’t have a crab stick stall and thus failed to compare.

Soon after, I headed south to the Kiyomizu-dera, a Buddist Temple (founded in 778, with the current buildings built in 1633). All of the buildings in the complex are assembled without a single nail. You can tell an Irishman wasn’t assigned to that particular job.

I made my way further south to the Fushimi Inari-taisha. This is a compound of shrines all connected by trails. Along the trails you walk through thousands of torri, or gates to you and I. The trails are about 4km long and take up to 2 hours to walk.

It was a pretty cool place, but if truth be told, I wasn’t in the mood by that point. I’m British and a little rain won’t deter me, but there wasn’t a little rain on that particular day, it was pissing it down. It starts to take its toll after a while. Walking for hours in the heat and humidity and my umbrella could only protect me from the thrashing rain so much. My shoes and socks were soaked through. Ultimately, I was braving it all to look at some orange pillars with Japanese and Chinese scrawl on them.

The one joy I got from sightseeing that day was laughing at the other tourists who were wearing traditional Japanese kimono. Not all that funny, but the idiots decided to wear the complete outfit with wooden zori (essentially wooden flip-flops). Walking down a hill in varnished wooden shoes in the rain is possibly one of the worst ideas out there. I started to forget about my own troubles as I watched oversized American tourists dressed like fools repeatedly stumble down hills.

Back to the hostel, showered, in drier clothes and in a much better mood I headed out into the Gion district to find me some geishas. Geishas are “hostesses who mainly entertain male customers”. Not my words, but the words of Wikipedia. After walking around for a while, I think I only saw 1 geisha and about 30 prostitutes.

They didn't have many customers.

I’m not too sure why the geisha look is still desired. If you were going out on the town with your missus and she had that much white make-up on you’d have to have a word with her. Not only that but they’ve got thick, almost plastic-like hair. It’s not a good look. If you put a bit of red lippy and a plastic black wig on an albino girl I don’t think they’d get the same amount of interest…but probably more stares.

Day 2 in Kyoto and I headed for the Tenryu-ji Temple and the bamboo forest.

Someone at the Tenryu-ji Temple has a sense of humour.

The bamboo forest was very cool. It was here that I realised the amount humidity that I was due to face that day. It made for some rather unsightly pictures. Still, at least I’m not Joachim Löw with massive sweat patches AND getting caught adjusting one’s self live on TV and then sniffing it. I did that too, it just wasn’t televised.

Finally, I headed for the Kinkaku-ji (The Golden Pavilion). This was a beautiful place to visit, the building itself was quite incredible, but I couldn’t truly appreciate it as I was being pushed around by inconsiderate Chinese tourists (the only people worse than them are Brexit voters). After only a short while I made my way out and went for a pint.

Kyoto is a pretty cool place. It’s everything you imagine traditional Japan to be. Apparently there are 1,600 temples and shrines, and I think the only one I didn’t see was Shirley. There was just too much of it and the weather didn’t help either. Oh, and too many people. I don’t like people.

New York, New York...That Closes at One

New York – The City that Never Sleeps, The Melting Pot, The City of Apples.

This famous city was to be the destination for our family holiday. It was a welcome break too as I hadn’t seen them in 9 months or so. Expectations were high for this one, especially considering it is touted as “the greatest city in the world”, but it’s not like Americans to exaggerate or boast.

The trip didn’t start off too well. First, there was a visa issue which almost prevented me from travelling, and once that was sorted I had an 8,000-mile journey from Seoul to New York, via Shanghai (no, I didn’t get lost, the flights were cheaper that way). 26 hours-ish. Each way. When you’ve got a long journey like that you want to travel with a quality airline, so that’s why I flew with China Eastern. And if the Chinese are known for one thing it’s quality.

It gave me a chance to catch up on some classic movies that you must see before you die. Movies such as Transformers: Age of Extinction and Furious 7. Wow, Furious 7 is an awful movie. I know why Paul Walker died, he saw the first edit of the movie and committed suicide. That movie grossed $1.5billion. Yeah, billion. Anyway, I couldn’t finish it.

Arriving in New York is pretty surreal. I’ve seen the city hundreds of times on TV and in movies, but to be there was awe-inspiring, especially coming from Seoul. I love Seoul, but it’s a hideous city. The architecture in New York is truly amazing.

I know, I’m comparing the best and worst aspects of the two cities.

Before leaving Seoul I made a list of “things I must see/do in New York”. You know, the cliché, touristy stuff everyone does. The list included:

• Seeing the city from the observation deck of the Empire State Building.
• Visit the Statue of Liberty.
• Overhear a vegan hipster say something like “my band only records on vinyl, it sounds way better” while walking into a Wholefoods.
• Connect with a New Yorker by saying things like “Texas is real America,” and “things will be different when Trump is in power.”
• See a moaning Jew.

Amongst other things.

Top of the Rock

Above all else, the thing that I was most excited to do in New York was attend a comedy show at The Comedy Cellar in Manhattan. When I was a teenager and everyone was talking above their favourite bands and experimenting with drugs I was listening to the back catalogues of stand-up comedians. I would spend hours upon hours listening to content wherever I could find it and I developed a preference for American stand-up. Stand-up is the purest form of comedy. No script editing, no directors changing the concept, no interfering producers. A person can have a thought, go on stage and deliver that thought. It is art. An art form that yields instant results – if it is funny people will laugh.

The hubs for comedy in America are Los Angeles, Chicago, but none more so than New York.

Some of the biggest names in comedy started, passed through, or continue to ply their trade in New York. People such as; Dave Chappelle, Larry David, Bill Burr, Aziz Ansari, Patrice O’Neal, Woody Allen, Jerry Seinfeld, Bill Maher, Chris Rock, and the incredible Louis C.K., to name just a few of my favourites.

So being in New York presented me with an opportunity to experience this first hand. I retraced the steps of Louis C.K. in the opening credits of his show Louie. Surfacing from West 4^th Street Subway Station, walking towards The Comedy Cellar stopping at Ben’s Pizzeria for a slice. The night at The Cellar was amazing and hopefully it won’t be my last experience of the New York comedy scene.

Sure, I posed like a tourist, but I was a tourist.

The weather was remarkable too. It varied from sunshine, howling winds, long downpours, and even snow. Snow in April, who’d have thought it? I can confirm it as I saw it when I stumbled out of the Private Eyes strip club at 5am on a Monday morning. I didn’t know you could rate and review strip clubs, but it has a 2-star rating on Yelp, which is about right.

We were the ultimate group of tourists having gone to Times Square, The Rockefeller Centre, the Empire State Building, Ellis Island, Liberty Island, an NBA game at the Barclays Centre, the 9/11 Memorial, the Natural History Museum, and so many other places that I can’t remember.

Times Square - The novelty wears off pretty quickly when you walk through it everyday.

The Statue of Liberty and Manhattan

By the end of the trip I did feel like a true New Yorker, I was annoyed with all the tourists in Times Square and was even arguing with taxi drivers.

“Where to?”
“Brooklyn Ave Station, please.”
“There is no Brooklyn Ave Station.”
“There is, so just take me there.”
“I don’t know where you want me to take you.”
“Look mate, I’m in a rush and if you’re not going to take me I’ll just take the subway.”

I got on the subway, checked the map and it said Bedford Ave Station. Of all the station names to forget and I forgot Bedford. Yes, I argued with a taxi driver who had probably been driving around the city for 20 years even though I’d only been there for 2 days. I was blending in, that’s what us New Yorkers do.

You can choose your friends...

Luckily Dad had a hair dye accident, which meant he had the dodgier Barnet of the two of us.

5 days just isn’t enough there. I walked a lot, laughed even more, and ate too much. It was great to spend time with my family, and no doubt I will be back again.

Christmas in the Philippines: Tropical Climates, White Beaches, and Midget Boxing

It was another Christmas away from home, but this year I decided to spend it in the Philippines. Trading in the bitter cold and snow for warm climates and white beaches. It was a good trade.

The Philippines consists of 7,107 islands. I managed to see a few of them but mainly from the plane a few thousand feet up. Unfortunately I’m not Michael Palin with the backing of the BBC and as I only had a week there I opted to visit the island of Palawan and the capital, Manila. It was a good thing that I was only there for a week, if I had stayed any longer people would have started to think that I was the first ever recorded white pygmy.

A huge Christmas party ensued upon my arrival at my hostel. Hog roast, cheap beer, a Bob Marley tribute band, and great company. It was a great welcome. Drinking games followed and after one of the guys won a £2.50 bottle of rum he said “you can’t go to bed until you help me finish this bottle of rum”. I couldn’t let the guy down. 

Christmas Day followed, no hangover, so a few of us took some mopeds up the coast to the beach. This was first real test on a moped with Nagtabon beach about 40km away. And allow me to quote the website that I booked the moped with “you can trust booking with [name of motorbike hire company] as our fleet is almost brand new and well maintained.” When I got the bike it had 100,000 kilometres on the clock and the brakes didn’t work. It had been ridden more times than Katie Price. Add to this that I only had an hour experience riding from the previous day, and the general lack of road safety in the Philippines it was a case of being thrown in the deep end. Riding in the Philippines is an event, you’ve got to be wary of; people, roosters, goats, cows, dogs, and the occasional market in the road, as well as the oncoming traffic as overtaking is very common and no one waits for a safe opportunity. They pull out when they want and toot their horn to signal that they are doing so. It was on the way to the beach that I realised that I forgot to organise my medical insurance before I departed Korea. (Sorry Mum, for obvious reasons I didn’t mention any of this when I spoke to you!)

Made it safely to the beach and back. Frolicked in the sea, and had a barbeque Christmas lunch.

On Boxing Day I left the town of Puerto Princesa and headed north to the small town of El Nido. A little known paradise surrounded by hundreds of islands. It was here that I did a boat tour and tried my hand at snorkelling. The idea of snorkelling seems really fun, you get to discover an underwater world of coral reefs, tropical fish, and sea turtles. But, in reality, it’s a bloody nightmare. The coordination that is required is untold. First, you have the unnatural sensation of breathing underwater (I never got used to that), then trying to film the occasion with my camera, all while staying afloat so that I don’t drown. I went back for a life jacket to eliminate the chance of death, and it was a bit easier. The guides have the cheek to tell you don’t touch the coral, but some of it is so shallow and the depth perception of the water is deceiving, so before you know it you’re dragging your legs across the sharp jagged coral, after which you then wince and panic and breathe in the sea water. And you go through all this to see some fish. It is much easier just to go to Pets At Home.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the shallow waters, on the beach, and enjoying the incredible scenery. I know, I went to an amazing place and all I’m doing is moaning about it. 

My feeble attempt at snorkelling can be seen in this video.

A couple of days later I flew from the island of Palawan to the capital city of Manila where I spent my final day before I headed back to Korea. I only booked one day here, and I’m glad I did. There’s not an awful lot to see or do during the day in Manila, unless you like the look of a run-down city and churches. Getting around the city is a nightmare too, the taxi drivers are arseholes, and when you finally get in one you spend most of your journey in traffic. On my return journey from Fort Santiago I opted to take the metro - that was a mistake. You don’t know cramped train cars until you’ve been on the Manila metro. Tighter than a duck’s arse.

As the metro was too cramped I got a Jeepney back to my hotel. Jeepneys are American military vehicles left over from World War 2, now they are a popular means of transportation. The only requirement to drive one is that you must be mentally unstable. As the Philippines is a Catholic country the drivers have Christian reminders around the cockpit. The one I was in had a sign which read “Jesus will guide me”. Rumour has it that Jesus could perform miracles, but I don’t trust him to guide a 70-year-old anti-Nazi bus indirectly via a Filipino who probably traded his license for a few mangos and a couple of bottles of San Miguel. If the bus crashes, as an atheist, it’s the end of the road for me. Quite literally. I managed to walk away from another near death experience.

The nights in Manila are certainly more entertaining than the days. I happened to stumble across the dodgiest bars in the city and even found one that hosted midget boxing (their use of the word, not mine), it seemed like a sight not to be missed, and I was right. I walked into the bar to see some slightly overweight, scantily dressed girls dancing awkwardly in a miniature boxing ring. I ordered an overpriced beer and it was time for the fight, also refereed by a dwarf. The fight lasted three minutes. Three minutes during which I questioned, where am I? What is happening? Is this legal? It concluded a very peculiar night.

If you like dodgy bars, and aggressive prostitutes then Manila might be the city for you.

Jeonju: My First FC Seoul Away Game, Jeonju's Hanok Village, and One Big Mistake

Without even realising it I’ve fallen into a new social bracket that is even more alternative than being a “hipster”. I have become a “football hipster”. That’s not to say I am a hipster who has an interest in football. You know the type, the self-confessed alternative thinkers who happen to read the same sources and then miraculously have the same ideas, who dress unconventionally yet identical to the other free-thinkers, but who happen to watch the occasional Manchester United match. I mean I am a football hipster. It was far too mainstream to stay in the UK and support my beloved Arsenal, I had to travel to Korea and spend my weekends following FC Seoul home and away, take in the Korean second division (the K-League Challenge) when there are no top flight games available, and listen to the latest episodes of 48 Shades of Grey, an English podcast on all things K-League. What have I become?

Karl and I chose FC Seoul’s fixture against Jeonbuk Motors as our first away game, and booked our places on the supporters’ bus.

At 9am we boarded the bus and it was time to pass around the beers and cocaine. Unfortunately the party-pooper bus driver had banned both substances so we had to resort to sneaking soju on and drink that discreetly.

The 400ish supporters arrived in force at one of the 2002 World Cup Stadiums, now occupied by Jeonbuk Motors. The game was disappointing from a Seoul perspective as Jeonbuk won 3-0. Losing an away game quite emphatically deflates the entire positive atmosphere of the day. It’s the same as having something that you really enjoy, a lovely bonfire for example, and then someone comes along and urinates on it, but you’ve had to travel three-and-a-half hours to witness it. That’s what the game was like.

The only remedy to our sorrows was more beer as we prepared for the night out in Jeonju. The night was a bit of a blur. It involved bar hopping, assisting a man with his bungeobbangs (a fish shaped Korean street food dessert), and ending up in a club where I achieved the amazing feat of falling asleep standing up (I had been drinking for 16 hours or so).

The guy left his stall to get change, and we filled in for him.

The next day came round (no hangover), and we explored the Jeonju’s famous traditional-style Hanok village. Eating the local food, and reading about the history was mildly interesting.

I have to admit that something terrible happened that weekend. Blog followers, after reading this you may lose all respect for me. You should be preparing to delete me as a friend on Facebook, to burn any evidence of our friendship, and if you see me I would understand if you violently attacked me in the street because…I’ve…put on traditional Korean clothing and posed for pictures. I’m sorry.

I’ve been in Korean for over a year and every time I’ve seen a foreigner wearing the clothing I cringe. The outfit is called a Hanbok, it is usually worn for special occasions and earliest murals of them date back to the 3^rd Century BCE. They are guaranteed to make all foreigners look like utter twats. I am now a member of that undesirable club.

Karl talked me into it. “C’mon, it’ll be a laugh!” Yeah, and it was, for everyone else in Jeonju! I hadn’t even got it on yet without feeling like a knob.

The only benefit of wearing one was that we got a lot of attention from some average looking females who wanted photographs with us.

After sheepishly meandering around we went back to the rental shop, and handed them back (sweaty, thus confirming the stereotype that all Caucasians sweat (sorry white people, I had a lapse of concentration and now more people know of our shameful, clammy secret)).

Mistakes were made on this trip. Another checkbox ticked, and another which I wish remained unticked, but shall forever dishonourably hang over my head.  

Seonyudo Island: I'm Not As Brave As I Used to Be

I’ve been back in Korea for only 6 weeks and I’ve already had 2 holidays. Unfortunately, my holiday doesn’t really coincide with other private institutions so I opted to go on this mini adventure alone. I decided to go to 선유도 Seonyudo, a group of islands off the west coast of Korea. The islands are connected via bridges allowing you to leisurely cycle around. It was the perfect remedy for 4 weeks of stress-less work (since the last holiday I went on to Jeju Island).

It took 5 hours to get there from Seoul (3½ on the coach and 1½ on the ferry), but it was totally worth it. It’s stunning. The colour I associate Korea with is grey. Grey buildings, grey sky, grey rivers, but here there was a spectrum of colour. Blue sky, green islands, white sand, and the sea was clean. Not like the murky waters of the Han River, it was clean, and a rich blue. It was worth the journey to end up somewhere that felt more like the Caribbean than Korea.

The islands are remote. There are about 3 shops, 4 restaurants, no ATMs and no wifi. I was cut off from the world. I rented a bicycle, paid the ₩10,000 (£6) fee, no questions asked, no record of my ID, just a “bring it back tomorrow” attitude. I love Korea. I spent the afternoon cycling around the southern islands before retiring to the beach, with a beer…or 3.

After spending the night in a love motel (which was rather depressing as I spent the night alone) I explored the northern islands and again later returned to the beach to relax and sit in the shade…with a beer…or 3.

Along the beach runs a 700m zip line. The departure point of the line is 50m up a tower. I lounged on the beach and watched many people (adults, children, old ladies) zip across the beach. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the joyous mood I was in, but I decided to give it a go. I paid the ₩15,000 (£10) (I got a “handsome man” discount of ₩5,000 (£3)), and got the lift to the top of the tower. The doors opened and I immediately thought that this was a bad idea. The scenery was amazing, but the prospect of jumping from 50m was not. Since doing a skydive I’ve developed a fear of heights.

Alongside me in the lift was a couple. Being the English gentleman that I am I protested that they went first. They were scared but they did it. Now it was my turn and the only people around to judge me were the staff. I told the guy that I wasn’t doing it. He argued with me, and even tried to grab me to hook my harness to the zip line. I ducked and dived and evaded him. I was back in the lift and was heading down.

The doors opened again, this time on the ground floor. The staff who helped me into my harness then helped me out of it. They were pleasantly understanding until the “boss” turned up and he was more than happy to laugh in my face. He explained that there would be no refunds, but to be honest, I’d have paid another £10 not to have done it.

I’m not Bear Grylls. I’m not an “adrenaline junkie”. I don’t need to chase the next high. If I want that addictive “high” sensation I’ll start taking heroin. At this stage in my life I am officially ruling out bungee jumping, base jumping, zip lining, or any activity that requires me to jump from a considerable height. I’m not as brave as I used to be, but there’s no shame in that.

I went to the shop, got some more beers, resumed my position on the beach and continued to watch the brave/stupid people on the zip line.

It was a great few days away and I learnt a lot about myself.

Photo Blog: Jeju Island: Korea With Palm Trees

Although I enjoy my job I will always welcome a break from work, and after only 2 weeks in Korea I was off to Korea’s top summer holiday destination – Jeju Island. Karl and I had holiday which overlapped so we went together.

Jeju Island may be famous to Koreans and those who live here, but it is hardly known outside of the country. It is a tropical island south of Korea. It has beautiful scenery and nature, blue skies, and hot temperatures. It’s “famous” for having the largest mountain in the Land of the Morning Calm, Halla Mountain (1950m), and for delicious tangerines. I have no interest in climbing a mountain that takes a day to go up and down, and as for tangerines, I couldn’t tell the difference between a tangerine, a clementine, or a satsuma, so the island’s trademark items were lost on me.

Seongsan Ilchubong Peak: A former volcanic island

Love Land: A park filled with sexual sculptures...lots of couples and then Karl and I.

Cheonjiyeon Waterfall: Walking on wet rocks in less than appropriate footwear.

Hyeopjae Beach: Looking at girls in bikinis.

Other Places:

Jeju's nature, mountains, rivers, palm trees, and the sea. 

I didn't find out what this building was, but it looks good.

These statues are synonymous with Jeju.

Anyway, we're back home in Seoul now. Going to the pub tonight to watch the Community Shield between Arsenal and Chelsea. I'll tell you after the game about how much I care about the result. If we win, then it will be a statement of intent for the season ahead, beating the champions and rounding off a good pre-season. If we lose, then I'll claim it's an irrelevant fixture that has no bearing on how Arsenal will preform in competitive games, and Alexis Sanchez is still on holiday after his exploits with Chile in the Copa America. 

Until next time...

Life In England, Coming Back to Korea, and the Worst Night Out of My Life

OK, so there’s been a change of plan…

I’m now back in Korea. I genuinely didn’t want this to happen, I had decided that I needed to go somewhere new, but there was always a difficult barrier to overcome. Either it was a contract condition that I wasn’t happy with, or I had to be in the country for a face-to-face interview, or the salary to cost of living ratio was too far out of balance. The easy option was to go back to Korea.

I had originally decided to stay in the UK for 6 months, but life in Bedford isn’t all that interesting, the novelty of home had worn off, and although my parents were happy to have me back, my feet were itchier that a bad case of crabs. So, I’m back in hot, humid Seoul. Back at my old school, living in my old apartment – it was like I was never away.

Don’t get me wrong, the time I spent home in England was great. I got to spend time with all of my family, and either they’re all excellent liars or they genuinely missed me while I was away. I got to reconcile with family members that I haven’t seen in 15 years? And of course I got to catch up with a great bunch of friends. It would appear that no matter how long I might have been away there would have been a great reception upon my return. I couldn’t have asked for more.

Despite all the great things of home; the people, the food, (some of) the nights out, and a reasonably priced Guinness, there were aspects of being home that bothered me.

Something that I never realised before was how racist people are towards Asian people. Some people knew that I’d been away, and others I had mentioned it to them, but as soon as I did it opened a flood gate of seemingly accepted racism. The worst I heard were “How is your Thai bride?”, “Good morning, Vietnam!” and “ching chong ching”. The ignorance is strong with these people. "Thai bride", "Vietnam", these aren’t even relatable to Korea. They’re completely different countries. And “ching chong ching”? Even Jim Davidson and Mel Gibson would conclude that this Chinese gibberish is too racist for their tastes.

For some reason people still think it’s acceptable to say racist things about Asian people. I don’t think these same people would say bigoted things about other races or nationalities. It was another contributing factor that made me want to leave earlier than planned.

And here’s another thing, I was in South Korea, not North Korea. No, I didn’t meet Kim Jong-Un. No, it’s not “basically China”. No, there isn’t continuous warfare between the North and South. And the 2018 Winter Olympics will be held in Pyeongchang not Pyeongyang – they’re different places. I probably shouldn’t be annoyed with these misconceptions, after all there is very little Korean exposure in the UK. With the exception of Psy’s famous hit, Park Ji-sung, and, apparently, AFC Wimbledon’s love of Shin Ramen, people know next to nothing of Korea.

Did I have doubts about going back? Sure. Will it be the same? Will the second year have too much to live up to? I don’t know, but I’ve dallied on too many big decisions recently. I managed to convince myself that it wasn’t the right time to go and live in Japan, Hong Kong, China, or Vietnam (which is very hard to do!) and I couldn’t do the same with Korea, I didn’t want to wait any longer.

The reasons to go outweigh the few to stay. I was doing a meaningless job where the topic of conversation of each day was tits and fanny. Don’t get me wrong I love tits and fanny as much as the next man (unless the next man is Ched Evans) but I don’t want to talk about it every bloody day. There was the boredom of home creeping in, lacking a sense of adventure, learning nothing new. These are valid, obvious reasons to continue exploring a country I am so fond of living in.

When considering my last two weekends in England they are at the two ends of the spectrum of enjoyment and one was a definite factor in leaving England so rapidly. My penultimate weekend was an unplanned night out, usually these are the best ones, but this was not one of them. It all started well, a few lads and I played a couple of rounds of 9-hole foot-golf (football and golf for those without an imagination). 

Peggy doing what he does best

It was suggested that we go for a few beers after in the neighbouring town of Newport Pagnell, hardly glamorous, but I’ll rarely turn down a few beers with the boys. At this point I did express my concern as I was wearing a Galatasaray football shirt, but was told that it shouldn’t be a problem. A few pubs into a pub crawl and I was approached by UKIP’s poster boy, some product of the Hitler Youth’s sister programme – the Farage Adolescence. He felt that he needed to take time out of his night to inform me that, as I was wearing a Turkish football shirt that had the Islamic star and crescent emblazed on it, that by wearing the shirt I was “supporting and funding ISIS”. Really? The Galatasaray board of directors had a meeting and established their season objectives: to acquire the best available playing staff, to remain profitable and sustainable financially, and to send a couple of youth players on loan to al-Qaeda FC. (And if that mong is reading this (which he definitely is not, he’s probably got his head buried into the latest edition of The Daily Sport) the star and crescent was originally a symbol of the Ottoman Empire. The symbol became associated with Islamism in the mid-20^th century, so the crest on the shirt is more an association with Turkish history rather than any religious connection.) We bid the awful man adieu and made our way to Milton Keynes - this was a terrible idea. I was rejected from every establishment for my choice of shirt and was even spat on. I went home soon after. (Can you tell I’m still angry about that night?)

The following weekend was by contrast sensational. A day and night out in London. Beers on the train down, beers by the river, watched the Football Manager “derby” between AFC Wimbledon and Watford, beers at the game, cycled to Camden on the Borris bikes (this was funny at the time, but a rather dangerous idea), beers in Camden, met some Koreans and showed off my terrible Korean language skills, more beers, and then got the train back to Bedford. No drama, just a great day without religious hate, or airborne saliva. Why can’t every weekend be like that?

Anyway, I’ve been in Korea for a few days, it was all rushed in the end and I didn’t get to see people properly before leaving, which was a disappointment.

Sorry if this one seemed like a rant, it’s just I haven’t written for a while.

Thanks for reading.

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