If Carlsberg did 40th birthdays...

By El Cid
When we finally touched down at Reus airport it was on the back of a boozy evening at Windsor Racecourse and three hours sleep.
We should have been knackered -- and we were -- but the excitement of a looming Champions League semi-final saw us through.
By the time D came down from Barcelona to pick us up, we were chattering schoolboys reminiscing over the faded football glories of the past -- both as players on the fields of Hackney Marshes and as followers of the great yet underachieving Arsenal. Oh for a football, we thought, as we basked in the sunshine.
Sly Robbie, Monty and me. "There's no Plan B" was our motto for the day.
A dip, a siesta, and a paella later and we were there -- in Villareal.
What a buzz!
I'm probably biased, but only the Spanish in my experience know how to make these things a real family occasion.
There were old ladies and kids everywhere, and of course lagered-up Gooners.
A surreal contrast, an accident waiting to happen, you might think.
But it worked.
Everyone was mellow and friendly.
I even came across a few old faces, including Flanners, with whom I'd done my first communion. Naturally, I obliged with a few interviews for the local TV: "Venimos a hundir el submarino amarillo. Va ser como la aventura del Poseidon!" I grinned.
What a buzz!
Pretty soon, we all had a ticket.
Somehow King Vom of Valencia had got his hands on 5 little beauties because he knew the child minder of one of Villarreal's football players.
God works in mysterious ways, and with a bit of human inspiration thrown in, it got even better. For once inside the ground Tommy J spoke to the local plod who promptly agreed to squeeze us into the Arsenal end. Result!
The very best, though, was saved till last. You all know the score: "LEHMAN! LEHMAN! LEHMAN! LEHMAN! LEHMAN!"
I've never sang as loudly or for as long in my life.
The fact we played pants and rode our luck, is another story.
But what a way to celebrate your 40th birthday. I'm still buzzing!

Lost In Translation
I'll leave you with a little look at the dangers of literal translation and why it is skilled work that should really be left to the experts.
Having previously giggled when an English Gooner on a Villareal chat room introduced himself as "un ventilador del Arsenal" ("Ventilador" is an electric fan), I was treated to the two-bob rag that was Villareal's official programme for the match.
Thing is, it could be worth a fortune on eBay as it's a right collectors' item.
All the pictures are badly pixilated and the English.. well, here's an example:

When the city was founded in 1274, few rest of historico interest of times were preserved previous. Between most important, the network of irrigation channels of the Roman time (century III), that it begins in the environs of the Hermitage of the Virgin of Grace, From half-full the Eighties, the city has grown of considerable form in commercial and industrial zones, communication avenues, educative services, cultural, sport, welfare and sanitary, and it has attended an overflowing city-planning development that, next to the successive attacks of immigration.