I got winked at even before I arrived in the changing rooms. (Cliché? Very but true.) Training with the local female football club, I discovered too late, was a lot more intense than anything Nature United ever did. Fortunately, two of the girls were missing – injured, the first with a burst eardrum, the second because of knocking herself unconscious against the wall of the grounds – so having me as the extra pair of legs was not seen as too bad a deal. Petrified (knowing what had happened to the absent players) I ventured out on the pitch, sniffed far too much oestrogen and retreated after an hour of featureless running up and down back to the changing room (which was immediately immersed in smoke as most of the lasses lit up the minute the game stopped). Nice.
Me doing a backflip in my dreams.
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