International week meant a chance to get away before winter. ThatâÂÂs how my wife saw it.
"Cornwall," she suggested, after reading a book about the county that is all the rage in her native Brazil.
Places like Plainmoor, St. JamesâÂÂs Park and Home Park could sound appealing when, like my missus, you have no idea that they are football grounds.
Everything was booked, then the game at Goodison was brought forward a day. It got worse. PlymouthâÂÂs home match was postponed for international duty.
The player called up for international duty was Rory Patterson, now a Northern Ireland striker, but five years ago my brotherâÂÂs strike partner for FC United of Manchester.
PattersonâÂÂs promise had been recognised by Rochdale, but he soon found himself in the non-league ranks. His questionable attitude appeared to be a big part of the problem, for he had the demeanour of someone who got on with few and was happy being unhappy.
Rory Patterson, holiday ruiner...
When he made his FC debut in a friendly, his shirt didnâÂÂt have a number on it, nor was his name listed in the programme. Fans sang about 'Mr Mystery' and 'The man with no name.
His performances soon made sure people knew exactly who he was, as he acquired cult status and managed to find the net from the halfway line in one game. Brother didnâÂÂt hold him in the highest regard as a person, but says he was the best player at the club â by a distance.
His talent to go past players readily was spotted by relative big spenders Bradford Park Avenue and then Coleraine in the Northern IrelandâÂÂs top flight, where he scored 41 goals in 40 games last season and was named Ulster Footballer of the Year.
Yet while he never stopped scoring, he did stop falling out with people and rubbing them up the wrong way. Despite the goals, however, even Coleraine fans are divided about him, partly because he signed a pre-contract arrangement with Glentoran while also having a trial with Plymouth Argyle, where heâÂÂs started this season. And because of his move to the West Country IâÂÂve still not seen a game at Home Park.
Had I followed the crowds, we would have ended up watching Exeter Piratesâ debut against Gloucester in rugby unionâÂÂs top flight.
I also took in Truro CityâÂÂs home, the semi-professional side having risen sufficiently up the non-league pyramid to be CornwallâÂÂs top side.
And IâÂÂm writing this on a trailer park just off the M5 in Tiverton, having just interviewed Diego Forlan, him in a hotel in Bilbao ahead of Atletico MadridâÂÂs game at Athletic, me surrounded by semi-permanent static caravans and the hum of the nearby motorway.
"Where are you?" the Uruguayan asked. How could I possibly begin to explain?
"England," I replied. Some things are best kept simple to avoid confusion.
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