There was even an immaculate turned out air hostess waiting for us to welcome us aboard,although see might well have been the vic bars weekend barmaid polished up.
It transported us to the grand place in middle of Brussels where i sat ;looking at another world so very different from my court street boulevard before a bus took me to witness something more spectacular at belgiums nation hysel stadium.
Events there would lead to me to display the match ticket in mmy hall evre since as a reminder of what we can achieve if special people are at the club.
My mother had kept me on her usual tight budget as she thought £3 worth of francs would be enough for a day trip and she was right,The reasons for her meager handout however were mainly driven by her fear that her maturing son might end up in a strange womens house every tiome he went out,if he had too much money on him.anybody could be behind the curtains with a knive she would say.
My dear mums crumby £3 allowance shouldv been a guarantee of my safety in brussels but i nearky came home with a sore face when a big guy with a flugel horn tried to beat me up as i gave him some cheek at the final whistle.He had been a right pain to me as he had kept blowing his horn right in my earwhen i was celebrating but cheeking him was unwise as he was a big farmer type guy with a biog farmer type wife who seemed to be urging him to remove the victorius smile from my face