8 reasons why dejected England fans should now be supporting Ghana with all their heart and flag.

1. I was supporting Ghana from the start, and I am wise. Follow in my ways.


2. They are the only country with a marked link to the UK left in the tournament: Former colony, LOVE the Queen. One might argue the British weren't always incredibly nice to the country in colonial times, so It'd be a nice peace offering, if a paltry one.

3. It would really suck if we lost our world cup spirit in wake of the Ger-turmoil. I'm not gonna lie, it bought a massive lump to my throat when I saw some Japanese guys crying at the end of the match, and kissing their England shirts goodbye (no, I dont get it either).

4.  Brits can learn a lot from their shameless self confidence. To quote Asamoah Gyan: "I asked God to make me the greatest striker in the world, and he did".


5. Celebration at a Ghanaian foot ball game is awesome. Celebration after a Ghana game is awesome. To quote Marcel Desailly (ITV Commentator from Ghana)
"I can imagine now, there will be dancing, beer, and singing, and there will be a goat just there *points* "

6.They are in the quarter finals, i.e still in the contest.


7. THEY KNOW THEIR NATIONAL ANTHEM!



8. Entertainment factor: Scraps, drama dives, praying on the pitch, yellow cards agogo, more gestures than P-diddy at a night club doing sign language. 



 seriously....wouldn't you rather look like this...






than like this?




(incidentally my fave pic that I have taken so far this summer)

I can only think of 2 reasons why life sucks right now....

.....so everything must be going swimmingly on average. However:

1)It's 3:28, and I'm sat up waiting for the police to come round on account of an attempted burglary at my dear abode about 15 minutes ago. The scary thing is I was due to move out tonight, and as my bedroom window was the port of call for their attempted entry, they might have just skulked in unnoticed.

2)Yesterday, after frolicking in the park and playing basketball, I got on the bus. Whenever I get on a bus, It is guaranteed that the drunk,disheveled, mentally unstable bloke will accost me. Today, It went something like this:

*Bloke sits next to me*
"F****in hell, your nails are disgusting!! I CLEAN mine."

I would like to point out that my nails are not THAT dirty, and it must have taken some fairly close inspection for him to observe the feint, bohemian traces of dirt under my fingernails, which were only there due to park-frolicking and basketball twirling.

Man.

Misfortunes: The International Years. Chapter 1: VIVE`BRASIL

Often in the process of working a 6 day week, I manage to find the time to daydream. Today, I found myself recounting previous travel mishaps, and wondering why I didn’t publicize them more. I know, everyone has funny, ‘This one time, in Africaaaaa, I like, drank water and it was SO not purified ’ stories.

Mine are more just a mockery of my general misfortune.

Chapter one: Vivé Brasil

I’ve always had a problem of needing to pee whilst on public transport. One time, in another very hot country, I almost didn’t go on a trip of a lifetime because I was so scared I’d pee myself on the 14 hour coach ride. Luckily there was one bathroom break on this occasion, and was sweating so much there was no need to pass water.

Ahem.

On the incident in question, I was traveling from Trancosco (a), to Caraíva (b), a coach trip of around 6 hours. Which, in somewhere the size of Brazil, is pretty much the equivalent of popping over the road to buy some toilet roll.

Not hard to not need the toilet on a journey of such relatively small proportions, or so one might think. We nearly missed the bus, (due to my obsession with ‘cheesebread’ and just HAVING-TO-GET-SOME-FOR-THE-JOURNEY), but after running along a dust track and some Portugues expletives (from the driver, not us) we boarded.

The problem with Cheesebread (bao de Quejo) is that

a) its addictive, probably on account of the salt

b) due to the salt content it cannot be consumed without liquid. Seriously, that stuff is powerful.

After 3 weeks in Amazon land, I had become a bit cocky and convinced myself my bladder had the super-powers of your average giraffe.

So alongside my cheesbread for the bus, I had purchased its very best liquid- friend, 2 cans of Cola tZero (no that’s not a mistype, portugues pronouncing).

My friend Josie fell asleep, and people came on and off the bus, and we went though what I can only assume was rainforest with INSANE hairpin bends… as the 'crow flies' the journey should have taken 25 mins.

Major crisis. After 2 hours, and 2 cans of Cola tZero, I unsurprisingly need the toilet. I try to compose myself, with thoughts such as

‘I am a strong, confident woman. My bladder does not control me.’

To no avail.

I considered asking the bus driver to stop so I could pee, but having upset him earlier I was afraid he would either drive off and leave me, or watch and laugh.

Time passed.

I had no strength left.

It had to be done.

The window was open….but there was no way I could bend that way/not be seen, plus, WHO does that?!

My friend was still asleep and the people behind/in front were occupied/asleep, with the exception of one guy who was definitely AAE (alive, alert, enthusiastic). Then, in an epic must-be-divine intervention, his stop came up, and he departed.

The plan? The plastic carrier bag that I had bought my cheesebread and Cola tZero in. Fortunately rural Brazil doesn’t seem to have cottoned on to the ‘putting holes in carrier bags so small children don’t suffocate’ extravaganza

So, without leaving my seat, waking my friend, drawing anyone’s attention, or, ahem, ‘spillage’, I did it..

I’m sorry Brazil. I love you and your people and your crazy long bus journeys sem banheiro.

Ich muss mein Pferd verkaufen

I always think ts polite, when calling a foreign country, to at least say "Good morning, Do you speak English please?' in the appropriate language. 

I work in a government travel agent, so am familiar with this phrase in many tongues.

If you are an English speaker, in the UK, and an incoming phonecall began like so:


 'Guten Morgen, Ich muss mein Pferd verkaufen'

 or even " Доброе утро, вы продаете сыром?" (that's Russian by the way, which i don't try to speak, as I cant read the pictures, but I do begin Russian-bound emails with "Доброе утро")

You'd be like.....


*nervous shuffle*
"....errrr, I don't think they're in the office today. or ever. please don't call back."


However one day I got a bit too big for my boots, and decided to expand from the above, to 'Hello, Please may I speak with reservations?' upon a call to Paris......
















He was Scottish.

And I'm pretty sure I translated 'Reservations' wrongly.