The Baillie Bugle

Luckily it’s been very easy to avoid any English football hooliganry during this holiday – as when it’s about to kick off the ‘fans’ make so much noise you can hear them from a few hundred metres away. A couple of nights ago we saw a group of forty or so lads get nasty and then get chased and smacked a bit by Portuguese police with sticks.
No one was arrested (I don’t think the police here are big fans of paperwork).

Last night we partied in the streets with the Portuguese after the England game. I slept through the first 85 minutes of the match, but apparently I didn’t miss much. Well apart from a goal three minutes in.
We hit a nightclub at round 4am and asked if it was likely to get busy any time soon. ‘Only if the people get off the streets and start drinking,’ the bouncer said. It was really cool even though it was dead – we sat out back and sipped our drinks looking out over the bay. We left it, still empty, two hours later.
These guys know how to party.

Tonight we watched the France v. Greece game in Lisbon and cheered on the Greeks.
Then they won.
I think I have the magic touch – every team I’ve cheered for this tournament has been triumphant.
And I don’t even like football much!