For those of you who didn't see part one, you can find it here: http://www.not606.com/showthread.php/69074-NOT-The-Italy-Blog-part-1. We was supposed to be going out and exploring the town in groups this afternoon, but there are still too many of these old Italian strkers and their agents floating around. There's lots of photographers from the tabloids as well. There's even one from The News of the World. He hadn't heard the news, apparently, having been part of a lock-in at one of the local restaurants for the past couple of weeks. Nobody had they heart to tell him what had happened, we just let him snap away. Instead of doing the town we all went down to the beach. Uncle Neil got out the box with all the beach stuff in it and handed out the rubber rings, armbands, beach balls and frisbees. There was even a beach volleyball set. We spent a couple of fun filled hours messing about on the beach. Paddy wandered away from the group managed to find an ice cream seller further up the beach. When he got back Curley tasked him if he had bought one for everyone, and when Paddy admittd that he hadn't he was sent back to do just that. He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering backwards and forwards taking ice cream to the other lads as a punishment. Several games of beach volleyball were played against some of the local girls teams. The locals won every single game 21-0. For some reason the boys just couldn't focus properly, they kept returning the ball straight at the opposition at chest height - too easy for them. Dave, Heidar and Jay kept hitting the ball into the net which didn't please the rest of their team but Curley got really excited. He and Neil have got this idea that if we make a two foot strip of our goal nets the same colour as these beach volleyball nets, and stand half a dozen scantilly clad women behind the goal Dave, Heidar and Jay will score at least 20 each next season. All too soon the fun was over and we had to head back to the hotel. Neil wanted to go over a few things and had brought some DVDs to show us. It was all quite boring really, I thought we were coming here for a holiday, not to talk bloody football all the time. After our evening meal we had to sit in the lobby for a while whilst they reorganised the dining room/restaurant. When we were allowed back in there was a seperate table for each of the boys and one for Uncle Neil as well. Jamie had the idea that it was some sort of speed dating thing when he saw a hand bell on Neil's table. No, it was an official press "meet and greet". When everything was ready the main doors were flung open and in streamed the tabloids finest. They were allowed to talk to each player in turn for 1 minute, then Neil would ring the bell and they all had to move on to the next table. You've never seen such a miserable bunch of bleeders in all your life. There were stains on their clothes and they smelled of cheap Italian booze and ***s. We had been told that we could say whatever we liked to the press ... as long as it wasn't true. We didn't actually get to say that much. Most of the time we were earwigging as Gabbi slagged of West Ham! When a couple of journos asked to speak with Neil they were told that he wasn't allowed to talk to anyone because he was in charge of the bell and needed to concentrate. (I did notice a couple of those fellas in black suits from yesterday sitting in the corner. They must have been impressed with Neil; they didn't take their eyes off him for a second.) There were a few good laughs at bedtime. Clint wasn't happy because some of the lads had made him an apple pie bed. He jumped in and thrust his legs out and they went straight through the sheet. He had to sleep with two dirty great holes in the sheet under his bum. Akos had managed to sneak a couple of bottles of Sambuca into his room. He's a good lad, and after Jonesy had brought round the cocoa, Akos popped into every room and gave us all a top up. Can't say I like the taste of Sambuca and cocoa, but it was the thought that counted. Radek managed to get three top-ups before anyone noticed which is probably why we went to sleep to the strains of some old Czech lullabys. Neil thought that it was sweet of him to sing the rest of the boys to sleep - but we know what really happened. We spent a leisurely morning in the hotel. Most of the lads didn't get up until nealy 11 o'clock. There wasn't time to have more that a snack for lunch as we were off to the training ground for the afternoon. It was only a few miles away, but the coach had to keep stopping as Radek said he was feeling sick. The session started well. The warm up consisted of skipping around the pitch with hands on hips. Then, after a few shuttle runs and practising throw ins the lads split up again. Curley was keen to try out the new shooting tactic. The top of the back of the nets were painted flourecent pink and half a dozen girls in bikinis were stood behind the goal. IT WORKED. It didn't matter where the ball was passed from, each time Heidar, Jay and Dave smacked it into the back of the net. The session ended with a full game. Bradley and Ali were made captains and the lads lined up as they took it in turns to pick. Things didn't start too well as Adel wouldn't pass. When he got the ball he just ran around and around. It ended up with both teams chasing him up all over the pitch. Uncle Neil solved the problem by giving Adel a ball of his own. The rest carried on with the match as Adel charged up and down doing little flicks and stepovers before crashing the ball into the goals ... both of them. He's a canny old bugger is Neil. After training all the lads congregated in in the lobby. Neil wasn't happy. He had something to tell us. Something we already knew. Apparently some of the tabloid blokes had got wind of the surpise party he'd arranged for the lads and written about it in their rags. In the end Neil had to come out and tell us that DJ Campbell and the Hammersmith Posse were coming out to join us and we is going to be allowed to get funky with some real wicked tunes. He's got his own decks and everything. The lads were very excited. More tomorrow.
