On Saturday night I was invited to one of the nightclubs out of the city centre with the flatmates where I´m staying. The problem with being a young person in Köln is that the Tourist Information doesn´t offer much that doesn´t earn the city money, nor do they concern themselves with such activities that are away from the city centre.
The people were cool, although I should have been more sceptical about being invited to play for one guy´s Sunday League team after having only spoken to him for a few minutes. They weren´t short of players either.
In the end I had my fill of beer in the Underground and made my way home, and woke up in the sort of state that only Sunday League football can really match. The league is a local one within Köln, that may or may not have been called the Köln Nord Division 4 Reserve Sunday League. I didn´t mind it was a low standard, I´m not exactly a John Terry myself, but the pitch was as hard as ice, and about as frictionless. Our team comprised of, following a rudimentary check, a Croat, a Turk, an Italian, a Dutchman, an Indian, a Bavarian, a sprinkling of Germans and now an Englishman.
Tell me now if there´s anything better than playing Sunday League football on the bank of the Rhein with a hangover, searing heat and no tackling (or for that matter passing). Naturally, my inherent Bobby Moore-esque tackling couldn´t be achieved, but a Torville and Dean slip to the floor was.
In the event, we managed to surrender a 3-1 half time lead to a 5-3 loss, but I honestly couldn´t give a jot.
Alone in Cologne 
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