PERUGIA - THE DIRECTOR'S CUT
(well, half-cut anyway!)

PUBLISHERS NOTE: CAUTION
The following commentary is completely uncensored, and readers under the age of 60 may require parental permission before continuing. The Publishers will not accept any reponsibility if readers are offended by any of the author's material.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Any similarity between characters depicted in this commentary and any living person, is totally intentional. The names of these characters have not been changed - you know who they are anyway. Some of the events may make no sense to the reader. Well, I'm sorry - you just had to be there...............!

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" I think I'll have a muffin, please" said Iain Addison. It was Monday 13th October, mid-flight between Stansted and Rome Ciampino (pronounced Champino). Little was Iain to know that this totally innocent request was to lead to tears of laughter during the next 4 days. Indeed, several ordinary, household words and phrases were to take on new meanings during the next few days as these 5 Highland Dark Blues took a trip into the unknown. But I'm getting ahead of myself already..........

Several weeks of anticipation culminated in a rather sleepless night. It was 4.27am, Monday 13th October. After only 3 hours of sleep, I found myself waiting for the alarm to go off. It was still dark outside. My bag was packed. Would Danny be on his way? Would the other lads sleep in? These were the worries which surfaced as I made my final preparations. Then, as 5.30am approached, Danny appeared. He too, had only had a few hours sleep. Off we went to pick up Arnie. Arnie had gone to bed, then got up again to watch the baseball. It was rained off. Iain addision was next, followed by John Huband. It looked as if we had all had difficulty sleeping. It had been my plan to hit the A9 at 6.00am, for our journey to Prestwick. At exactly 6.00 we were on the road. At 6.03am Arnie was sleeping. And so it was, throughout our journey, Arnie would nod off, whilst the others were awake with nervous tension. A smokers stop outside Perth drew funny looks from the commuters. Particularly with the Dundee scarf draped across the back window. Avoiding Glasgow, we took the A71 across country towards Kilmarnock. This switchback road only led to Arnie dropping off to sleep more often. Prestwick beckoned and we duly arrived at 9.40am. Not bad from Inverness. A quick check-in and then John Huband bumped into someone he knew, who was with Arnie's old boss! We were then accosted by a young lady. The week was looking promising! Unfortunately, she was looking to sign us up for an MBNA credit card. Arnie and myself were tempted by the thought of free European flights and a calculator. Cheap, or what?

Off to the departure lounge and a round of ham rolls and crisps, thanks to Iain Addision - or should that be Rita?
Other Dark Blues arrived. Part of the Coupar Angus contingent, perhaps? Onto the flight. First time I have flown Ryanair. Most impressed. "Arnie, are your shoes off? Mine are." A small refreshment interrupted any attempts at a snooze. A rather bumpy landing brought a small ripple of applause. This temporary excitement died when passengers, who had switched on their mobiles, advised us that Scotland had drawn Holland in the Euro Qualifiers. Baggage collected, we had nearly 3 hours to wait for our flight to Rome, the earlier connecting flight having been booked up shortly after Dundee were drawn against Perugia. A photo opportunity beckoned, and out came the HDB Flag for the first of many airings.(PIC1)

Luggage checked in, there was only one place to go - O'Neill's Irish Bar inside the terminal. A table vacated as we arrived and with the first (real) beer of the day, we started to relax. We were a little surprised to see Nacho Novo moonlighting as a waiter - complete with silver shoes! A good bar lunch with another beer and soon we found it was time to 'proceed through security'. Stansted is a busy airport and we found ourselves in a bit of a crush. "Jabba Tours. On me" was the cry as we weaved our way through. Onwards to our flight. Again, a Ryanair 737, for a two-and-a-half hour flight to Rome Ciampino, with a one-hour time difference. "Shoes off, Arnie?" Entering the holiday mood, some red wine was ordered. "I think I'll have a muffin, please" said Iain, to Alphonso the steward. Alphonso was responsible for the rear exit. On opening his snack, Iain found it to be very dry. "Nothing worse than a dry muffin," declared John, nonchalantly. "Iain's got a dry muffin," John told us, sitting in the row in front. "Always better with a moist muffin, Iain," as the tears rolled down our cheeks.

As the sun dipped ever lower on the horizon to the west, Arnie remarked on the sight below. Snow covered Alps piercing the high cloud, with just a hint of colour from the sun, was a spectacular sight. "That's amazing, that," described Arnie. Summed it up, really. The time seemed to pass quickly. Perhaps it was the affect of alcohol at high altitude? Before we knew it, we were descending towards Rome. "There's a football stadium," pointed out Arnie. "And is that the Colosseum?" "No. But there's the railway station, Rome Termini. And over there, that's the Colosseum!" The traditional bumpy landing met with lukewarm applause. The plan now was to pick up our baggage and get the Ryanair transfer bus to Rome Termini station with our hotel just around the corner. We waited for what seemed like an age as a passenger purchased a ticket for this bus, and then proceeded to use the poor guy as her personal tourist information officer. Safely on board, we wound through some dark streets of Rome without seeing any sights - at least, not the picture postcard ones. Dropping off at Rome Termini, Jabba Tours resorted to a tactic that was to serve them well over the next few days - a map. Passing the main entrance to the station, we encountered a small version of cardboard city. Stepping over , and around, some of the locals, it became apparent this was not the 'West End'. Safely finding Via Malazzo and the Hotel Planet, only to discover it was on the 5th Piano. No, it didn't have it's own musical cabaret. We piled the luggage and 2 bodies into the rather small lift as the rest headed for the stairs and the 5th floor. Checking in we discovered that only 2 of us were staying in the Hotel Planet, and the other 3 were at a sister hotel 'just one minute' round the corner. John and Iain safely lodged, the remaining 3 made our way round the corner. The receptionist led us, literally, round the corner. Heading for a doorway, I couldn't help but notice one of the neon signs above. (PIC2)Signs of things to come, I wondered. Thankfully, Hotel Sidney was our lodgings for the night. Clean enough, with a shower and a TV. It would do for some weary travellers. Then the first of some comical disasters. I opened my case to find my shampoo had spilled in the toilet bag, and marked my spare trousers, in a rather delicate location. It WAS shampoo, honest. As I washed out the toilet bag, Danny exclaimed that his after shave had also spilled all over his clothes. And we're in Rome for the night? Coincidence, Danny?

Meeting up with John and Iain, we now had the task of finding somewhere to eat. It was approaching 10.00pm. The guys needed to stock up on cigarettes, and John had intimated there would be no expense spared on this trip. At £3.30 a packet, he opted for a pack of Diana's at £2.50. Smoking women's cigarettes now, John? He needed to smoke 5 at a time to get his fix. Moving away from the station into what looked like a better area, we spotted tables outside a restaurant, and a quick glance inside convinced us. It was light and airy - and busy. A sure sign. A table for 5 was requested and we were led inside. "Where's John?" we asked as we were shown our seats. He was sitting at the table at the door. He had met a guy who knew him from the BB's. He was over doing the Rome tour for a couple of days before heading for the game. Is there anybody here you don't know, John? The aroma from the kitchen was starting to get to us. A mixture of dishes were ordered, along with some of the house red. Italian bread was delivered to the table. It didn't last long. We noticed a number of men in green jackets. Tour guides perhaps? They looked quite smart, and obviously used this restaurant regularly. The food did not disappoint. Mind you, by this time I could have eaten a scabby horse. Maybe I was.....?(PIC3)

Suitably refreshed and last to leave, we were not ready for bed. We scoured the area looking for an Irish pub mentioned by other Dark Blues who were heading for Rome, but to no avail. We eventually found a suitable pavement cafe(PIC3A) and enjoyed a few glasses of vino rosso in the open air. "This is the life," mused Dylan. Sorry, - John. We eventualy headed for bed, pleasantly tired, with the knowledge that this was only Day One, a taster for what was to come.

Breakfast was a roll and coffee on a tray in our room. Getting in the mood, I donned my kilt and Dundee top (and dark glasses - hey, we're in Rome after all!) Making our way to the station which was just round the corner, we started to get some funny looks. That was OK, it was just the men. Temperatures were now in the high 70's. After sussing out where to buy the train tickets, Iain and I joined the queue. Most efficient. You took a ticket just like the deli counter at Tesco's and waited for your number to appear. Moving forward to a service point I ventured some of my broken Italian. "Cinque biglietti per Perugia, per favore" was met with excellent English. It was explained that she only had First Class seats left! Picturing £20-£30 a ticket, the total came to 18 Euros, about £12, including reserved seats. We had to change at Foligno for the local train to Perugia. She also explained which platform the train would leave from. Are you listening, Scotrail? With time to kill, we ventured back across the road to a pavement cafe, for a spot of Baywatch. At least that's what I thought John said. A busy thoroughfare next to the station, we watched the world - and his wife - go by, before it was time to head for the train. (PIC4)

After first punching the ticket in the machines on the platform, which stamps it with the date, we found our designated coach and our seats. Air conditioned, spotless carriages, and definitely a different class of passenger. "Ah. Scozzese!" cried the Italians on their way up the carriage. Full marks for spotting the kilt, Giovanni. This was certainly the way to travel as we moved off out of Rome and into the countryside. Arnie dozed. The line ran passed a motorway, and we zoomed passed the traffic. Good decision to stick to the train and not wait for Helen Donegan's buses, John. As we headed north and west the scenery changed. More hills appeared and we gazed at the hilltop towns and villages. We climbed ever higher with steep slopes at either side. Then through a tunnel, and on to Foligno. Now to find the information kiosk to locate our train. As luck would have it the platform we emerged from had a train waiting to leave. "Perugia!" pointed the railway staff on seeing the kilt and replica tops. This train was more like Scotrail. And so were the passengers. It was good to hear a local voice again! After what seemed like a stop-start journey, we arrived at Perugia station. The sun was beating down. We were still getting funny looks. Some supporters grabbed a taxi, whilst we were looking to head for a bar. Thirsty work all this travelling. Passing a kiosk, we asked about buses to Perugia. They all go to Perugia, last stop. We boarded the next bus and found ourselves amongst some of the bewildered locals. And they were very good on the eye as well. In fact Arnie had to suggest he lob a brick into my sporran - to prevent it from levitating all on it's own!
We seemed to climb forever, gradually the modern shops and houses gave way to an old city wall and parapets. We ended our bus journey in a tree-lined square, known as Piazza della Republica. Parts of Perugia date back to medieval times, and it showed in the architecture. Quite, quite stunning. (PIC5)Jabba Tours located his map of Perugia to get his bearings and Arnie spotted a sign 'Hotel Fortuna'. Down a few steps we were met with excavations and a boardwalk. "The hotel will be nice when it's finished" I ventured. Another 50 yards and there it was. Ivy covering the walls, a traditional stone building. Met at reception by 2 young ladies with excellent English, we lodged our passports and rooms were sorted. "Please sign here," said the receptionist to me, "you will be responsible for everyone!" And so our laughter-filled stay in Perugia had begun. A warm welcome was what we hoped for, but what about the rooms? Quaint would best describe the hotel, and when Danny had checked out our bathroom, we knew we were going to be OK. " This is perfect" he said. A quick freshen up, we were all eager to explore our adopted city and hopefully find some more Dark Blues.

Turning left out of the hotel we had only gone 20 yards when we came across 'Joyce's Irish Pub'. We glanced at each other and not a word was said. Venturing inside, we were met with a few Italians, and the barmaid. John quickly sussed out the sun terrace at the back and beers were ordered. "I'll bring them out to you", said Francesca. We had definitely arrived. The sun was squeezing between the houses, the temperature was mid 70's, and the beer was cold. The look on John 'Dylan' Huband's face was a picture. Out came the cameras and Francesca was delighted to do the honours. (PIC6) Offering up our Euros, Iain(an accountant!) was stunned when she said she'd get it later! This deserved a Dundee badge! Another round was called for, and another as we followed the sun as it moved across the horizon. "We can't tell anyone else about this pub," said John. The alcohol coarsed into the veins and the discussion moved on to the other beauties for which Italy is renowned - their women! If I mention phrases like, "painted on" and "pert breasts" you'll know where this discussion was going! "If they point above the horizion, they're too young!" we mused. Discussing our good fortune at our hotel location with this pub next door, we remembered absent friends - those who could not join us on our adventure. "The Cahirman would love this," Arnie voiced. Cahirman Mark Kerr was holidaying on Rhodes with his family - some people have all the luck, Mark! Then there was Grant Young from Huntingdon, who had to cancel at the last minute due to work commitments. We toasted our missing friends, with the hope that this could be rectified - with a place in the next round. Suitably refreshed, it was time to explore, and we were now getting a little peckish..............

Turning left onto the Corso Vannucci, the main thoroughfare, we turned right again towards the Piazza della Republica, to get our bearings. Looking due south from here the view was stunning. Perugia is about 1600 feet above sea level, and we could see for miles, past hilltop villages and churches, to the countryside beyond. " Can't believe this," said 'Dylan'. (PIC7)Wandering round this walled balcony we spotted a TV camera-man. "Must be spying on Dundee's training camp!" I ventured. We decided it was time the HDB flag got another airing for an excellent photo oppotunity with the views in the background. No sooner had we unfurled the flag, when the camera-man appeared. "Grampian TV," he said, " any chance of filming you with the flag?" "For a small fee," said the accountant. Delighted to sing and cheer whilst he filmed away. A brief flurry of texts to let those at home set the videos for the evening news. Heading back up the Corso Vannucci, passing Peter Marr and family on the way, this was really our first glimpse of the impressive town centre. A wide thoroughfare, pedestrianised, with shops and restaurants either side. At the other end is Piazza IV Novembre with the stunning Cattedrale di San Lorenzo, with steps facing the Piazza, and Fontana Maggiore. This was to be the focal point for Dundee supporters over the next 2 days. Indeed, some had already arrived and were milling about, trying to take it all in. One supporter shouted to us "Grampian TV are filming!" Been there, done that, was our response. "No, no, he didn't get enough footage before!" So off we went to join our fellow supporters on the steps of the cathedral, where we were encouraged to sing and cheer. Out came our flag again. Can't miss this for the folks back home. Enough filming and Tyrone (Ty to his friends) Smith of Grampian TV sports desk needed to interview a few supporters. After interruptions from some of the noisy crowd, Tyrone plumped for the guy holding the flag - that was me, and then big Arnie! Two HDBs hopefully on the telly! (PIC8)I have to say, after seeing the video footage on returning home, Arnie was the true professional.

This was all too much excitement for one day. I needed some protein. So we found some seats at a pavement cafe adjacent to the Piazza and ordered some good, wholesome Italian - burgers! Along with a beer or two, of course - and the waitress deserved a Dundee badge! We also met the Scottish Police Liason Officer. Can't remember his name, but a nice lad. A beer in the, by now, famous Irish pub, The Shamrock, was called for. Situated just off the Piazza and down some steps, the place was jumping. The Jump the Q songs on the cd player and a Guinness in the hand. Time for a bit of a wander. We headed round the back of the Piazza, looking for a sports shop as I was trying to get an Italian top to wear with the kilt. Finally finding one, they only had it in small, at £60! But John pointed out a Perugia top and after a quick change in the shop, the deal was done. Back to the hotel to freshen up before heading out for a meal. Showered and dressed in kilt and red Perugia top, I was ready for the evening ahead. Or was I?

Meeting downstairs in reception at 8.00pm, we found we could access the internet for free. Checking out our own website, Derek Steel had posted a notice advising members to set their videos for the Grampian TV news!
Our first port of call was Joyce' Bar next door! Just a few calm quiet beers to set us on our way! The bar wasn't full and you could sense the tension in the air - or had Arnie taken his shoes off again? (PIC9)

Off down the Corso Vannucci again in search of a suitable restaurant. The restaurants seemed to have different closing days, but we eventually found one with a suitable menu. ' Trattoria della Pace' I think it was called, just down off the Piazza. Light and airy and not too busy we were shown to a table and the fun began. 'When in Italy,' as they say, so pasta and spaghetti were ordered along with litres of the house red. My fellow travellers had noticed that alcohol seemed to loosen my tongue. "Arnie, if I start 'Jabba-ring, give me kick!" We had a superb meal and as usual when alcohol is flowing, the tears were running down our cheeks as we looked back on our trip so far. The lovely Monica, who deserved a Dundee badge just for that, served us! Her father owned the restaurant. She was a good sport and took our banter in good humour. I insisted on the obligatory photograph. (PIC10)"Just like a married couple!"shouted Arnie.She didn't understand his mix of Invernessian and Dundonian twang,so by way of illustration,I instinctively dropped down on one knee!At first stunned, and that was just Monica, there followed howls of laughter from my fellow HDBs! "Wait till you meet her Mother," shouted Arnie. "And her brothers!," replied John. "You'll wake up with a horse's head beside you, tomorrow," ventured Danny. "I was just 'engaging' with locals, "was my reply. "Fostering good relations," more likely! And so it went on. A jibe at every turn. Now I was finding out who my real friends were!

Seriously,for a moment,the photograph illustrates what we found wherever we went in Perugia.Warm,friendly people-for the most part bemused-who joined in the fun and the banter and were slow to take offence.For our part we mixed Italian and Perugian tops with kilts,swapped scarves and handed out badges with intention of making friends and enjoying a party atmosphere.I believe this was achieved.

Staggering, literally, up the stairs and out onto the Piazza. We headed for the cafe bar at the top of the Piazza and the beer flowed again. What an atmosphere! By this time hundreds of Dundee supporters had joined the throng, and bemused locals were taking photographs or just standing watching. I passed a young couple and the girl eyed me up and down. "No, I am spoken for!" but she didn't understand. She was actually interested in my kilt and it's tartan. I discovered she was a Perugia fan but the boyfriend was a Reggina fan. "Stay here," I managed in my broken Italian. I headed back to my backpack and returned to the couple with a Dundee badge for each of them. That's what I had meant when I said 'engaging with the locals!' I had also met 'Aunty Kate' and her niece who I used to sit beside in the Bobby Cox, and Bill Tait who was a work colleague many years ago in The Pru in Dundee! Hadn't seen him in years yet we meet up 1500 miles away.

The 'strain' of the evening was beginning to take it's toll, so we decided to head for the peace and quiet of Joyce's Bar which was well away from the hustle and bustle of the Piazza! We arrived at Joyce's and it was simply rocking! Crowded with supporters in every imaginable outfit. Willie Tanner of the Capital Dark Blues took up station ON the bar, and was leading some of the singing. We had heard that members of the press had been sniffing around looking to purchase stories. Didn't go down too well. Then later, we heard that there had been a bit of an altercation between supporters back in the Piazza. That was all we needed. 'Discreet' enquiries within the pub found that most of the celebrated press were in here getting drunk like the rest of us. How on earth they managed to write about the 'riot' in the Piazza beats me. We drank the pub dry of Killarney ale, so there was no choice but to hit the strong lager! At that point, about 2.30am, I hit the proverbial brick wall. Off to bed I went. I didn't hear another thing until about 8.30. Danny was farting! Must have been the strong lager, Danny! With slightly fuzzy heads we managed to head down for breakfast.Then the stories emerged from the night before!Arnie fell out of bed. Now,i'll let the enormity of that statement sink in !John had to find the bathroom on all fours.Iain, his room-mate,awoke to find John's head appearing over the foot of the bed.Not a pretty sight!But how are you this morning John? "Comfortably numb"said Dylan.

The day got off to a slower start than normal, goodness knows why! A walk to waken us up and we headed back to the walled balcony and the glorious views. Even more funny looks! Around the Piazza della Republica were numerous white marquees. These were being set up in preparation for the local Chocolate Festival - celebrating it's tenth year. We passed a statue which depicted some warrior or other and at whose feet was a young girl. Her outstretched hand had finger and thumb about an inch apart. "That'll be Monica," shouts Arnie. "And that'll be the Statue of Disappointment." said Dylan! After a bit more wandering, we headed back towards the fountain. Along the way we came across an alley which advertised a restaurant. Not being able to face any food, we ordered a lager - well it was after 12.00! We can come back here for a bite to eat when the rest of the HDBs arrive. Derek Steel, Phil Harper and the Billy(s) Watson had booked the official trip with Dundee Travel flying from Edinburgh on the Wednesday morning and they should arrive mid-afternnon. Iain Swayne and his pal Jim Bowes had organised a 5 day holiday with their wives to Rome. They had quietly arranged a short trip to Perugia (not for the Chocolate Festival, then Iain?) leaving their wives in Rome with the credit cards! They too would arrive mid afternoon. Back up to the Piazza, we joined in with the hundreds of supporters who had made the steps of the cathedral their own. Out came the HDB flag again for another photo opportunity in historic surroundings. (PIC11)Keeping clear of any bars, we instead wanted to drink in the atmosphere. We learned that buses had been arranged to take supporters to the stadium and tickets were available from Helen Donegan who had taken up permanent residence in The Shamrock. We bought 12 tickets. Frantic text messages from the other HDBs indicated they had arrived in Perugia but were having difficulty in getting transport to the Piazza. Apparently, we were to learn later, there are only 28 licenced taxis in the town. Swayndo and Jim were on their way from the station. By this time it was mid afternoon and we hadn't eaten. I was needing some protein. Back to the earlier restaurant, which this time was filling up with supporters. Only pizza's on the menu, and these were taking an hour and a half! A small beer kept us going while we waited for the others to arrive. Derek and the boys eventually gave up trying and arranged to meet us at the game. At last Swayndo and Jim arrived.(PIC12)

Scoffing our pizza's as fast as we could we emerged from the restaurant at 6.15pm, about half way down the Corso Vannucci. As I looked back towards the Piazza, the sight which met my eyes will live with me forever. The whole width of the Corso was filled with Dundee supporters, with the strains of the pipes just audible above the singing. It was like the start of the London Marathon! Anxious to keep ahead of this mob, there were only a limited number of buses remember, we headed for the Piazza della Republica. They caught up with as at the Piazza, and with John Huband crying out, "We're walking to the stadium!" off we went round the Piazza Italia. The voices roared out, "Well be coming, we'll be coming....." as we were swept along on this tide of emotion. Guys were waving to the locals - and getting waves back! Round and out of the Piazza, on towards the winding road down the hill. (PIC13)This wasn't the last time the HDB flag was on show! Winding down below the Piazza, locals were waving out their windows, one guy had a Scotland flag out his bedroom window, and then we passed below the walled balcony. Fabrizio Ravanelli made an appearance and seemed to be throwing down Dundee tops! Then Giovanni Di Stefano made an appearance to cheers of "Gio, Gio". "He looks like Mussolini" said one wag! Down to the Piazza Partigiani and we realised that we weren't walking all the way to the stadium. Local buses were queued up waiting for the Tayzurri. To say we 'squeezed' on was an understatement! The the buses were jumping - literally! The suspension was well and trully tested before we set off down the road, the singing never halted and the local pedestrians looked on in amazement.
John Huband wanted to share these moments of excitement with Cahirman Mark in Rhodes - then thought better of it. He simply texted, 'On the bus to the game'. To which Cahirman simply replied, 'That's nice!'

Arriving at the stadium and stepped off the bus- to be met with the HDB four, Derek Steel, Phil Harper and the Billy(s) Watson! They hadn't had anything to eat since arriving and had only had peanuts and the like on the plane! By this time the evening was quite cold and the traditionally dressed among us were beginning to question our judgement! On into the stadium. A open air chicken pen comes to mind, with concrete steps which acted as seats. Up on the fence went the HDB flag, along with Phil Harper's Inverness and Cumbernauld Dark Blues! Can you close your legs when you climb that fence, Phil? (PIC14)

The opposing fans made quite a picture(PIC15) all in red at the other end of the stadium. When they bounced the whole stadium shook! There was a meeting of Perugia and Dundee supporters on the pitch to exchange gifts of friendship - and I don't mean head-butts! This was to recognise the friendship between the sets of supporters. We had learned from the Liason Officer earlier in the day that the 'riot' had been caused by a small number of Italian fans known to the police and that they had also arrested a Moroccan. The UEFA observer and the local police chief had exonerated the Dundee fans from any blame. The match, as they say, is now history. A poor performance by our own high standards, and the Perugians were there for the taking too. A very cold night did little to cheer up the Dundee fans, and this wasn't improved when we arrived back in the centre to find that all the pubs and restaurants had closed on instructions from the police. John Huband missed the bus back and had to wait for their return, but you didn't miss anything , John. We managed to extricate 2 small beers from the room bar, and watched the whole match again on Italian TV on a delayed broadcast. It didn't improve on the earlier performance!

Off to bed, with Swayndo and Jim already starting to doze after their tiring journey. They were to kip in with Big Arnie. Next morning we were to find a bleary-eyed Iain and Jim at breakfast. Arnie had had a dose of 'nasal breathing' during the night. This was likened by Iain to a flock of guinea fowl! After packing our bags and doing a bit of last minute shopping for the spouse back home, it was time to check out. Of course, the receptionist deserved a Dundee badge! "Hey, Badgio!" shouts Arnie, "you cannae have any badges left"!

Our Perugian adventure was coming to an end as we headed for the local bus down to the station. Plenty of time to down a large Heineken in the station bar before our train arrived. Good suggestion to get the return tickets when we arrived, Arnie! Our train arrived, although we weren't sure if it was the right one, but who cared? Our few days in Italy had given us a different outlook on life. I even managed to help some ladies with their luggage!
Surrounded by Dundee supporters with a few bewildered locals, we chuckled at their stories. Arnie dozed.
In the moments we were awake we laughed again at some of the memories of the past few days. I remember Arnie saying, "I'm looking at you in a totally different light, Jabba." Or something like that. It's one thing to attend football matches and club meetings together, it's quite another to live in each other's pockets for 5 days.

Rome Termini arrived all too quickly. We found the transfer coach for the airport and had time for a sandwich and a beer in a local cafe. We bid farewell to Iain swayne and Jim and their mates who had made their own way to Perugia, and headed for the coach to Rome Ciampino. On exiting the coach at the airport, who should we meet but Fraser MacDonald, secretary of the DSA. We had heard that he had been in the wars on the Tuesday night, but he appeared like someone from the trenches with a bandage across his face. Apparently he had been head-butted, and finished up with a broken nose. Ah well, Fraser, you'll not forget your trip to Perugia, then?

The departure lounge at the airport filled with supporters and the queue for beer was rather sombre. No sign of a dry muffin then, Iain? Our flight to Stansted was uneventful apart from the fact they had run out of red wine!
"Are your shoes off, Arnie?" Landing at Stansted we knew we had another overnight stay at the Moat House in Harlow. Taxi booked, off we went. The receptionist gave us a suggestion for an Indian restaurant - wish she hadn't! It was in a shopping precinct called 'Bush Fayre'. No. I'll say no more! Back to the hotel for a last few beers, we thought we had managed to get there before last orders. About an hour later in stampeded a group of Dundee supporters, some still in shorts and T-shirts. Sensing a riot if the bar wasn't open, we managed to get the barman to return! An early start back to Stansted for our last leg to Prestwick. Inside the airport departure lounge, we headed for coffee and a pastry, just to line the stomach! Who should we meet but Scott Glenday and some Perth 62's! Scotty proceeded to tell us stories from the night before when hundreds of supporters had slept on the airport floor!

A short flight to Prestwick. Arnie dozed. As we came into land Iain and John noticed Arnie was still dozing, but didn't want to wake him. Ah, bless. The co-pilot landed with a thud, jolting Arnie awake in the process. "Thanks, guys!"

Our return journey to Inverness by car was not as quick as the previous Monday. A stop in Perth for some protein and cigarettes, then on to Inverness for about 4.00pm. John and Iain headed for Safeway's then off for a pint, "We need some form of 'closure'," explained Dylan.

The days after arriving home were confusing. Couldn't concentrate. Couldn't focus on work. Couldn't help drifting back to those 5 days on the road with the Highland Dark Blues, of the laughter and friendship, of the jokes and the songs. But perhaps most of all, to the wonderful people of Perugia, who opened their hearts to these funny people in kilts (PIC16)

Thank you, Perugia, for your warmth and hospitality.

Molto amore..................till the next time.

Grahame Couttie
aka Jabba Tours