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As England toiled their way to the Euro 2024 final, hardy North End souls flew out to Benidorm for a pre-season friendly with Lincoln City.
It was the year of the Silver Wedding and my partner’s idea of a week in Cyprus to commemorate that special day almost put an end to a return to Benidorm.
I was determined to make the day we celebrated our 25 years of wedlock one to remember, and I did just that as I broke the news of the impending pre-season trip. Even though I had supplied wine that night, I still got a slap for my troubles when I broke the unromantic news and the whole bus applauded her.
Precision planning in advance meant return flights to Manchester arriving at 1.30am. Wife and cases placed carefully into the taxi and a quick kiss (wife, not the driver) and she’s off home leaving me with a holdall containing two undies, two socks, three shirts, some roll-on, toothpaste/brush and the Benidorm flag.
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We stroll over to terminal 3 and await the arrival of the three amigos before our 7 am flight to the capital of culture.
First night is always a giddy affair and as we dump the bags, I realise I’ve underestimated the task ahead with just one pair of shorts and two underpants for the three-day trip
I decided to worry about that once they were all stained.
We head out to mingle and numbers are surprisingly good considering a few of the hardcore are on a different type of European duty in Germany [for Euro 2024]. The telling and singing of stories of past glory commences around a ‘flagged’ out Royal Arrow where many an alcoholic beverage is consumed. It’s one in The Paddock so we can pay our bus fares on the coach organised by them and then the pub walk of shame commences.
I’ll not give the names or number of bars we visited to protect the innocent, but it was ridiculous and we became weaker by the second. We opted for the no food option but promised to eat tomorrow. The walk back to the strip was littered with regrets and apologies but we got there and eventually back to base camp.
Staff complimented us on our return, they knew we’d put a shift in. Pre-season is meant to be about getting the hard yards in!
We rose in unison for the second day, apart from one who we shall not name for the fear of shame. We strolled to The Paddock Bar for our 90 minute bus departing at 8.15am. I suppose when you’ve got Portsmouth and Plymouth, it should be a doddle.
The stewarding was up a few notches this year. No going naked, no hip flasks and flags generally discouraged. Our water bottle tops were seized and there was no food available.
We concede within three minutes, triggering several to walk out in disgust to the bar and fail to return. The game got a bit feisty on a rough pitch and we managed to hang on to an unspectacular one-nil defeat.
Post-match and we’re back into Beni for 3pm. A quick freshen up and swapping of undies (cleanliness is next to godliness) and we’re back on the town.
I was starting to warm to these 11am kick offs. The day was ours as it gave us a chance to meet up with random lads and expat Prestonians. We were out of Europe for another season but that didn’t stop another take over of the Royal Arrow as the Lancashire droll of Preston could be hearing ricocheting off the concrete jungle that is Benidorm.
Food I think, I hope? Getting in bed, I’m sure!
Benidorm is a grueller. It brought grown men to their knees. The casualty of the first night was back Lazarus style, unfazed. We may have had a broken/badly twisted/puffy ankle in there and plenty of broken souls.
Some so broken they dare not return and extended their stay in Benidorm for the Euro Final.
Not me, I know I was needed back home, something about an anniversary meal?! Back to the airport, flight home and lift back to Fulwood in almost a snoozy silence. Sore heads, little in the way of regret – it’s what we do.
The Nose Bag: This article featured in the most recent edition of The Nose Bag, which was released in August 2024. You can take a subscription or buy issues from the archive here.
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