So to the key moments of the journey. Gordon Strachan leans over me to get a can from the fridge. I heard him swear as he couldn�t open the bloody thing. Wow! I grab two or three cans of Lucazade sport before I hear Gords distinctive voice spouting off traffic directions. We pull up beside the road, off the motorway near Leeds - or somewhere in Yorkshire - and it becomes clear Gordon is departing from us. I shift my arse and let him out once the coach has ground to a halt. �Thanks so much� I say �Ach! think nothing off it� he says before departing off the siding and into the distance.
The journey continues and a kind man hands me some sandwiches. More lucozade - I�m loving it. More conversation with coach driver as we pass Barnsley. It�s a real privilege. Cedrick Rousell makes a move for the lucozade in �my� fridge and leans over me. �Alright mate� he says in a thick Belgium accent. I say �Hi�. I should have thought about asking him is he was well after being poleaxed but I�m overcome with the moment.
England hopeful Stephen Froggat - I�ve now provided him with Isotonic liquid refreshment. I did it confidently and he disappears into the heart of the coach.�Cheers mate� he says. Same response as I shift of my seat to let Carlton Palmer off at a Sheffield service station. Down mobile phones I gather that Magnus is in Derby and will be in training on Friday - hot gossip!
Gary McAlister and Willo get off at Leister* and then I have a brief conversation with the driver and Andy, who ask me what course I�m doing. �You�re not going to like this...� I say �but I do media�. A cry of bastards - joking but I sense an underlying concern. It�s what they say when I get off at Ryton. My parents are there to greet me, just after nine o�clock as I�d borrowed Gordons** mobile phone.
�Impressed?� I asked them. They were.
*I still can�t spell this place. I should learn how to but I can�t be buggered.
**coach driver again, I�m afraid.