Having arrived at the station, I noticed no “scouts” around. Ha, they were not even meant to be there – it’s fucking Arsenal, what do you for God’s sake expect from them?! So I headed to the main building in search of a decent toilet. Well, don’t grin out there – I found it anyway. Now you can – IT WAS FUCKING CLOSED. Damn shit, but somehow I should admit that fact, because they were doing their regular work, which was scheduled, washing and cleaning up that foul place. Thanks guys, it smelled much prettier after you having done your work. With a great pleasure, I must confess, I did my little need. And there were three boring hours of waiting towards me. One of them I killed rather quickly and without taking any power and patience of me. As the first came to an end, the second one was sneaking around. But I was already fucked up and pissed off with all those scenes of the iron station: a couple of homeless chaps, resting their limbs, I shall assump, very imposing and showing us they didn’t care of you, dirty pricks. A girl, somewhere about 28 years old, knitting a stock, I dare say, for her little baby. It’s been a long time, when I last saw such a scene outside warm cottages, owned by some respectable man, who had a nice family, dog and had his tea at the time it supposed to be taken…

So I got up and headed in the direction to the tube. Although I was to that city for the third time in my life, I couldn’t help wondering and pondering about that fact, that even on Sunday’s morning – it’s fucking your day off, don’t you know it – the carriages were still full of chaps. I couldn’t even imagine, what a fuck they were doing so early in the morning – it was up to them at least.

Can’t even imagine how to describe those hours between my departure from the station and the arrival at the Independence Square station. Nothing that is worthy of your attention, except one, I’d rather say, occasion, for it finished not so bad, as I then thought it would. As I was strolling upstairs and thus appearing right at the Square, a traffic officer was just having his another day. And – you know, my asshole can’t leave without adventures, it’s “ gegen die Natur” – I decided to cut my way to a post office a bit, only a bit. But I intended to do that in an unallowable place – not in the pedestrian area. There were not even that shit, but, since I was “halb verschlafen”, I didn’t notice it somehow – and ha – jack pot, you’re a winner, only here and just right now you get an extra fucking hours, which include a fancy talk for half an hour to our smart and decent officer, drawing up a record, answering very reasonable questions and trying to stay calm. Ok. He tried to confiscate my students id, I became somewhat frightened about that. But in the end he grinned and said – It was mere joke, take easy chap. FUUUUUUCK ME. If you, Mr Cocksucker, thought that meant to be funny, I must disappoint you – NO, IT WAS NOT AND NEVER – HEAR ME – NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE HILLARIOUS. What if I had some hidden problems, which I didn’t know about, with a heart?! Ha, what would you do then, stupid fuck?! Hilarious, jester, merely – I should have just kicked the whole shit out of you, then you would think twice before fucking with someone that way. So, eventually, he made out a penalty – 51 hrivnas with my hearty recognition of the guilt, blabla. Fag he was. Well, at least I killed another one of those bothering hours, which I had to spend anyway.

Now I’m in the post office, warming up my limbs – and my crotch for sure – cause that day there was kinda weather all British got accustomed to – snowing, chilling wind, which you couldn’t escape, the snow was thawing the very moment it fell down; temperature was somewhere 4 degrees below zero. Celcius scale, of course. Post office didn’t intend to let me just be – there were these vagabonds or rather wanderers, who pissed me off. But they were all reading. You know, kinda makes you feel you are in Saint-Petersburg at least, where even homeless do not lose a moral make-up of a person. I didn’t distinguish, what they were reading for I couldn’t see either backs of books or theirs “foreheads”. Having spent one hour and a half resting in the post, I went outside – just for a good luck – and visited a mall – Globe. Nono, they did not mean to mock about the great Shakespear’s theater – it was only a title. Inside I found nothing interesting, at least nothing, which I could be much surprised of and be standing in awe observing the entire luxury of shops. Wandered about that mall for some time, looked at my watch (well, that was just a cell phone, but you would apologize me) – it was half past twelve. The match was to kick off at 13:00 and I figured out that I gotta go. Having been approaching the stadium, I noticed a crowd of our fellers – 100-150 shchey. Every fucking chap got freds on, so that they were easy to distinguish in the crowd. So was I. Cops surrounded us with kinda ring in order not to let anyone out of it. We neither resisted nor intended to do something like that - ordinary practice that was. In 30 minutes we all had tickets (somehow they were for free.) After the match I got only one word to describe it – SHIT. But, as I said it before, we all got used to it. Bad habit, folks.

To be continued…

“You must be kinda nut to travel across half of a state just to stand on the stadium while it’s freezing. And you aint even sure wether your team wins. I considered you to be a clever boy.” Yeah, my grandma is right as she always is. Anyway, I guess Charley Manson was considered to be a clever boy too. But, as you may have noticed, life is full of unexpected surprises. So have I…

Those reveries founded me sitting at the railway station, waiting for a train to Kiev (or as “conscious “ call it “Kyiv”. Silly bastards they are). Well, at that very moment my activity concerned nothing – I was only siiting, watching, observing and performing some other actions, which man always does, when he is not dead. I installed my ass in a free of charge waiting room. Hell, I should have thought before doing that, for I do not really admire seeing a vagabond fucking around me and stinking as if he was made neither of shit, nor fumes – nonono, forget these quite pleasant fragrances – he just made me think, that he somehow accommodated the entire dirt and garbage in his “body” and in his rags. But it was the one side of the moon, and I dare suppose, not the dark one. They not only spoil and defile a surrounding air, but they sit down on these seats and, of course, sleep. Huh, thus they bring much fun to the police officer, when he begins to wake them up. And the "ment" chose a definitely strange and creative way to do that – beating their heads with his bunch of keys. Once more – it’s a lot of fun. Sure, they did not obey him for the first time – tried to pretend they were barely dead or sleeping so soundly, that you Mr Cocksucker should probably suck. Eventually, they were being pulled out from the hall, bringing me some piece of amusement while observing that scene.

So, now we can move to another fucking problem concerning iron stations – FREAKS. I mean psychopaths, whatever you call it. And, folks, taking this into account, I’ve got a reasonable question – HOW THE FUCK DID THEY GET THERE? Have I missed smth? Did all the nuthouses fly open? Never mind. At least they didn’t cause any sufficient trouble while my presence there and, damn, I’m just grateful for that. Now is the reason why I decided that he was a psychopath – he was slightly knocking the columns in the hall just the way some kind of burglars or thieves did, committing robbery and searching for some hidden treasures or jewelries. I didn’t mind that activity – at least, due to that I didn’t start solving very complicated and smart crosswords. Thanks you, man, I appreciate it.

At this point the list of my temporary amusements comes to an end, and here is a boring, mind-exhausting waiting, peering and staring from the watch at me. If you look to the abyss too long, the abyss begins to look at you. A man, who declared that stuff, must have been a wise kind of prick. I guess it was Nitsche. Never mind him too.

Now we are back again to reality: platzcard ticket, severe conductors, dumb fellow traveler, largely represented by Dnipro fans, including me. Bad weather, freezing and snowing a little bit outside…

What was the reason? What a fuck did I expect of that tour? Certainly and chiefly there could not be expected any sort of a good game from our team. But somehow we all got accustomed to this state of deal - it never bothered that gang of desparados, who the whole train was full of.

So I was looking at those assholes, listening to their very dumb conversations and jokes and trying not to burst out with a stream of explicit lyrics addressed to them. It took me a great deal of patience. And yeah – I was as very pity as sorry about those pricks, cause there were a few “healthy” people on board and I guess it took them a great patience too. Our folk has been always renowned with a great endurance and patience. Almost like these Chinese.

The attempt to organize kinda alcothrash on board completely failed, although they didn’t give up trying until the late night. I was grateful twice that evening.

Morning glanced into my window somewhere about 5:45 a.m. Or it was me, who caught the morning at that time, because, apparently, the sun might have risen up much earlier than I noticed its presence. These two sentences are completely pointless, cause as I could remember there was no sun that morning. Shit.

To be continued…