The best business to do at the bar. This ancient wisdom, I can confirm from my recent experience only. It so happened, namely that I was sitting on the fiftieth anniversary of my school was facing a more or less uneventful evening and the closure the bar at 23.00 clock did not seem particularly threatening to me. However, I thanked the Lord that I already four pints had intus and was on his way to the fifth, with surface tension tapped glass to maneuver back to my place as me, the boss himself to himself and his wife waved to the table. I had left at Mr Steve Dool probably a special impression when I had spoken a half minutes in the German exchange with him, or maybe he was after half a bottle of whiskey (he's Scottish) and just in Plauderlaune, at least it happened to that I rolled on a piece relied chair between him and his wife obsessively tried a good to make an impression. The headmaster of an English school is such a thing as God's representative on earth, probably because he is rarely found, since he spends his working days at meetings and large social events. My light flashes nervous lay down, it quickly when I noticed that a nice, casual conversation developed and that Mr Dool was not infallible, but he omitted to close his zipper after he relieves himself. Anyway, after we had talked about his meteoric rise from the sports teacher to the principal, we naturally came to speak on a topic that is inevitable in any reasonable conversation between men is: football. When I complained to him my sorrow, that I had got hold despite tremendous efforts still no ticket for the Anfield Road and even toyed with the idea to me to see Everton at Goodison Park, was stunned not to see in his eyes and he assured me, is Case accept in person.
months passed and although I tried each of the rare meeting with Steve Dool, throwing him pregnant with meaning glances, he seemed to be either to his promise not to remember or to do. I wrestled long with me, but then eventually took me a heart. It was Thursday, the third-last match in the Premier League was imminent and crowded after school, hundreds of uniformed school tormentors through the narrow corridors. As I rounded the corner I spied from a distance the boss, of course, just now with his deputy (which has the charm of a Maggie Thatcher and in a sense be regarded as the representative of the deputy of God on earth) was engrossed in conversation. But I had no choice if I wanted to Anfield again see the inside, I had to act, the last home game of the season was two weeks on the plan. To the disappointment of some seventh-graders I jostled me out of the stream of students and contributed to the entertainment elite school to. Short and concise, I described the problem and reminded Mr Dool unabashed in his commitment. A week later I was in the office of the head and heard his buddy Roger abschwatzte it a ticket. Steve had kept his word, he seemed even more of satisfactory service aufzutun three potential card provider. As the Prime Minister, he sat behind his massive desk and statesmanlike jammed up the phone between ear and shoulder. As Roger, a retired entrepreneur who spends all day long on the golf course, as befits the British upper middle class, it took several tries before Roger, probably between the tee and putting, to his cell phone went. Agreed (the usual small talk, of course, including what is already very amused me) was that I should pick up a ticket at his home in Heswell. Since I was not very mobile, Steve Dool decided to take me and me back to sell in Neston before he drove himself to a short holiday in the south of England. Unfortunately, I was on this Friday afternoon, only to play football come to the school, so stylishly dressed in Umbro jogging pants, jersey and football violators Germany, unshaven and schmörgelig. If I had foreseen the events that followed I was stranded in trousers and leather shoes, that's for sure.
Steve took me So after school to his home where he "just quickly pack up some things" then wanted to go to his Familienfestivität to Ipswich. Unless the plan. The reality was, rather, that I was a complete guided tour of his two homes together with a tour of Roger's 12 000 pounds to enjoy golf set, I finally made comfortably in his leather lounge chair and could choose between 516 different TV channels, while Steve made the travel arrangements. I enjoyed so to speak an elite life in the Germany jersey. Not enough, we were at Steve's neighbor still served a lasagna par excellence, of course, on the rooftop terrace with views over the Dee on the Snowdon (highest mountain in Wales). Next door has Karlheinz Riedle still an estate, who had just separated from his wife, so I learned at dessert. When I arrived back home from 19:30, I put myself first on my bed, I marveled at the ticket in my hand, so to speak, represented a recognition of my work and so of course should be considered as a gift and was wondering why I am on a Friday, was not born on a Sunday ...
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