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I would like to thank Rupert Lowe and Mike Wilde for something..


alpine_saint
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Emigrating is a tough thing to do. I fully expected my first bout of homesickness around the 6-month mark, brought on by one of the following :

 

Missing salt & vinegar crisps, custard, decent bacon sarnies, etc.

Missing the sea

Missing seeing Saints play.

 

Well, I've managed to find the various food items, found a decent stretch of Adriatic to walk along, and thanks to Rupey and Mikeys sterling efforts to wreck SFC, I am happy to say 8 months on I am still homesickness-free..

 

Thanks guys ! :smt023

Edited by alpine_saint
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About time he succeeded at something. Wonder how he will feel if the attendance drops to 1.

 

LOL - simple maths makes me think that if you're the only one satisfied it will be an attendance figure of 0 which is about what he deserves.

 

(This is not a dig - I doubt Ryanair do Southampton - Austria for £5 return.)

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LOL - simple maths makes me think that if you're the only one satisfied it will be an attendance figure of 0 which is about what he deserves.

 

(This is not a dig - I doubt Ryanair do Southampton - Austria for £5 return.)

 

Flybe do Southampton-Salzburg during the ski season, but its costs a fortune. Probably to fund the sponsorship deal, because it cant be bringing any money back in to Flybe..

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Emigrating is a tough thing to do. I fully expected my first bout of homesickness around the 6-month mark, brought on by one of the following :

 

Missing salt & vinegar crisps, custard, decent bacon sarnies, etc.

Missing the sea

Missing seeing Saints play.

 

Well, I've managed to find the various food items, found a decent stretch of Adriatic to walk along, and thanks to Rupey and Mikeys sterling efforts to wreck SFC, I am happy to say 8 months on I am still homesickness-free..

 

Thanks guys ! :smt023

 

 

Missing the noise of the sea, the cricket and the pub will get you eventually. You will then think of returning to the homeland, you will spend a wallet shattering,mind blowing,cultureless fortnight at 'home' and be cured of all illusions as to an eventual return for ever. However you will still support the Saints and scheme and save to see at least a few games a season;

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Missing the noise of the sea, the cricket and the pub will get you eventually. You will then think of returning to the homeland, you will spend a wallet shattering,mind blowing,cultureless fortnight at 'home' and be cured of all illusions as to an eventual return for ever. However you will still support the Saints and scheme and save to see at least a few games a season;

 

hehehehehe. You've got me down to a tee. That was exactly how it was first time round.

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Cant all be "real men" like you, can we ?

 

IF you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

 

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

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