Dates: 09 June – 07 July 2016.

The summer of our lives.

It can be traced back to that cold October night in Zenica. That fateful night we, Cymru, qualified for Euro 2016. And what a crazy, beautiful month in the French sun it would be…

Day one was actually my birthday. Since, unbelievably, Mike was attending a friend’s wedding in Italy, Liz joined me for the first game. To avoid the high prices to fly into Bordeaux airport we opted to use Southampton airport to fly into La Rochelle.

I remember writing a fairly cheesy Facebook post the day before along the lines of it didn’t matter if we lost all three group games because I, we, had waited so long to qualify, and that a lot of us had given up dreaming of qualification. That post actually aged really well, and it also started a little ritual of me posting the matchday tickets for each game as they approached:

La Rochelle was a town that was always being mentioned in GCSE French classes, so I was curious to take a look around and the train to Bordeaux was straightforward. It turns out it was a lovely, peaceful little town.

View of the port:

After the train to Bordeaux we met up with the rest of the #WalesAway gang at our Airbnb which was rather grand. We ate locally and cheered Les Bleus to victory over Romania in the opening Euro 2016 fixture.

Day three was match day, and surprisingly looking back, I wasn’t at all nervous…until kick-off!

We spent the build-up along the bars adjacent to the Bordeaux “water mirror”. Steve Austins even helped-out at one of the bars where the BBC were doing an outside broadcast!

Along the “water mirror”:

Bordeaux’s stadium was a bit out of town so we headed there in plenty of time and watched the Swiss scrape past debutants Albania in one of the few bars.

The Nouveau Stade de Bordeaux is a magnificent looking stadium and the walk-up certainly started bringing it all home that we were about to play in a major tournement. It was something most of us had long given-up any realistic hope of.

Nouveau Stade de Bordeaux:

We were in the front row – the front blydi row! There was sea of red, it seemed we’d transplanted our home crowd to western France! I’m not ashamed to admit that singing Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau brought a few tears to my eyes, which thankfully Liz did not notice. The anthem was epic, and being sung on the world stage.

Minutes before kick-off:

Pre-match video here.

The nerves hit, and I think the boys were nervous too. Slovakia almost scored through Hamšík, but the heroic shape of Ben Davies cleared the shot off the line. More nerves – this was going to be difficult. Then, Johnny Williams was up-ended for what would be the first of umpteen times. Bale to take the free kick. It’s too far out…

Oh, that feeling when Bale scored! It’ll be with me forever. Ecstasy! The rest of the half passed in a blur, apart from Škrtel elbowing Johnny. Slovakia equalised early on and took control for a period.

Enter Joe Ledley, back in record time following a leg-break to set the winner in motion. It was the best scuff in the world. Hal. Robson. Hal Robson-Kanu! They all dived into the corner. Our corner of the stadium. In a huge pile, and we had nine minutes of the game left. Pandemonium. I lifted Liz off her feet in excitement. It’s not her country but I think she understood what it meant to all of us going crazy around her.

2-1! Hal. Robson. Hal Robson-Kanu:

Mike phoned at full time. I had to do my best not burst into tears as we just jabbered incoherently to each other. He’d been getting updates and was happy as the rest of us. We’d felt a lot of heartache over the years.

We hugged everyone on the slow, prolonged walk from the stadium. We didn’t want to leave. We’d won at a major tournament and we wanted to savour every last bit of it. We met Nick Davies and his two brothers on the way out. Nick and I run to each other like lost lovers and hugged for ages. It was immense. None of us could quite believe it.

The street between Place du Parlement and the shops was where we celebrated long into the night. There were locals in the apartments above the bars and whenever the Cymru fans struck up a rendition of La Marseillaise, the locals hung out their windows and provided the lyrics. There was even the frankly bizarre scene of a sat-down crowd surf!

Our first tentative step into tournament football came to a swift end the day later as we all shuffled off back to La Rochelle airport to head home, and in my case back to work for a few days.

The 14th of June. Work and then a train to Mike’s place. That little ritual:

We travelled via Eurostar the day after, but at separate times due to Mike’s work. I arrived in a slightly damp Lille to the sound of Russian and Slovakian chanting in and around the train station.

I was first to arrive and collected the keys for what was a very special Airbnb apartment. Rather unkindly, it would henceforth be described as the Fritzel apartment due to the subterranean room that all bar two of us would sleep in for the duration of our stay.

With England and Russian fans clashing in Marseille before the tournament had started and with Russia losing to Slovakia in Lille, we opted to stay local to our apartment which happily was less than 30 seconds from three bars.

France faced Albania that evening and the hosts eventually scraped to victory with two late goals. Naturally we helped the locals celebrate with beers and pizza and I inherited a France scarf as we chatted to a pretty girl and her male chaperones.

Match day. It’s fair to say when we were drawn in the same group as England it really put a dampener on things. We have a terrible record against them and any defeat would be gut wrenching.

The day was strange. Cold and wet weather gave way to blistering heat for the game itself, before more cold and rain afterwards. The short train journey from Lille to Lens contained both sets of fans, and despite Lens supposedly being ‘dry’ pre-match, there were places selling beer.

Welcome to Lens. Pre-match atmosphere in the tournament’s smallest stadium, the Stade Bollaert-Delelis:

Predictably, England started brightly and managed a number of good opportunities whilst again our boys looked nervous. However, that man Bale. A free kick. It’s too far out…

Incredible! Yes, Joe hart didn’t cover himself in glory but who cares?! Queue pandemonium and the red half of the stadium bursting into song and chant that lasted till half time.

1-0! Gareth blydi Bale:

We needed water, and what a sight greeted me inside – don’t take me home!

The second half was nerve-shredding. Roy Hodgeson went for broke, bringing on two strikers at half time, and it was one-way traffic for most of the half. England equalised early and we conceded territory like it was going out of fashion. Two memories will stick with me forever. Kyle Walker ambling from his own box all the way to the final third without being confronted (multiple times), and that now-famous Cymru fan in tears of joy and anxiety that appeared on the big screen who gave his compatriots that extra push to continue singing.

Then it happened. Just as it seemed we could hold on. In the second minute of injury time. Disbelief. The boys were shattered.

Step-up Chris Gunter. With one of the most iconic moments in Cymru history. Chin-up. It was profound and heartfelt from Cymru’s fan-on-the-pitch. It meant everything to us, and on the walk back to the train it left us feeling immensely proud.

That evening was naturally a bit subdued, but we made friends and drank with Poles and Germans as their teams drew 0-0, and we went on to make friends with the bar owner, and an Englishman and his rapping American girlfriend.

Our local bar and our new friends:

Don’t give up your day job in favour of a rap career, girl…

Drunk, duck-face silliness:

Haley and I had to be up early the morning after for a radio interview with BBC Wales and Kevin Ratcliffe. Afterwards it was a flight to Toulouse where we spotted Malcolm Allen and John Hartson.

Most of the gang stayed in a châteaux on the outskirts of the city, but Mike and I were joining Liz and her friend Emma who had flown on down a few days earlier. With a few days before the crucial Russia match we took the opportunity to take-in historic Carcassonne.

Pont Vieux:

Château Comtal in the distance:

A team selfie:

Inside the Château Comtal grounds:

A slightly odd moment came late that afternoon as we were enjoying a beer in a local bar. We spotted Melania Walters, AKA Stacey’s mother Gwen in Gavin and Stacey – sadly she wasn’t keen to talk when I went to say hi…

On the 19th we headed to Toulouse by train and got our bearings early-on with a walking tour. Unfortunately, the city’s beauty was diminished by the drab weather.

The Garonne river:

Emma’s family is very friendly with the Bale family and there was a chance that she could get tickets for the Cymru/Russia match for her and Liz, so we visited the Bale family’s hotel on the outskirts of Toulouse and the girls duly got a pair of tickets. Chris Gunter’s brother is very obviously Chris Gunter’s brother by the way!

It was a cute and quiet little area:

On the morning of the Russia game I made another media appearance for the BBC. Unlikely my near-topless appearance on Victoria Derbyshire’s TV show prior to the England match, I was much better prepared this time. Fully clothed, with a Cymru flag strategically placed behind, I confidently proclaimed the Russian defence as a bit ponderous and that we’d get a positive result that would see us into the next round.

The centre of Toulouse was a throng of red shirts from lunchtime onwards. There was an air of optimism that we were going to witness something special.

After spotting Ian Rush we spotted some Russians:

There was a long walk to the stadium but we shared it with the Russia fans with both sets of fans singing along the way.

A team selfie moments before going our separate ways for the match:

The Stadium Municipal was bathed in a beautiful dusk sunshine:

The lucky pre-match selfie to send to Mam and Dad:

If there were any pre-match nerves then it didn’t take long for them to be dispelled. A sumptuous through ball from Joe Allen on eleven minutes set Aaron Ramsey free and he dinked the ball over the advancing Igor Akinfeev. 1-0! Queue pandemonium in the stands – we couldn’t believe it. Such a great start!

What followed was quite possibly the most in-control Cymru performance we’d ever witnessed. The boys oozed swagger and the Russians did indeed appear ponderous. Nine minutes later Neil Taylor of all people doubled the lead after collecting Bale’s deflected pass. Delirium. We were sending the Ruskies home and getting to the knockout phase!

Half time came and went to the sound of nervous giggles and looks of disbelief, but we carried on playing Russia off the park. A lovely move started by Chris Gunter saw Ramsey feed Bale with a neat through ball which gave him plenty of time to stab the ball home to make it 3-0. The ghost of 2003 was finally exorcised and we were top of the group. Group winners at Euro 2016. Dreamland. We are top of the league, say we are top of the league!

Drinking it all in at the final whistle seemed surreal. Don’t take me home!

It took us ages to leave the stadium. I think if people had brought us beer we’d have stayed all night. Leaving felt like we might be woken from a dream. When the group table appeared on the big screen it showed us, Cymru Bach, ar y brig!

We finally left and when we spotted the girls, Mike and I hugged and lifted them both into the air. Liz was happy that England, after drawing with Slovakia, were second and both our countries would be in the last 16.

Confirmation:

Due to the reputation of the Russian fans, Toulouse’s bars were meant to close early in an effort to reduce any outbreaks of violence. The girls and the rest of the gang headed home but me and Mike hunted down a bar that Mike’s Scottish friends had located. They had been in the Russia end of the stadium.

We, the Cymru fans, drank that bar dry of draught beer. We sang, we drank, and we sang some more. As the night progressed we sang quietly following pleas from the bar staff. Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau actually sounded really cool sung at a whisper!

A bear of a Russian man stumbled in at one point. He grunted at us, took a selfie, smiled and ambled out. Random. That was one happy day and night…

My favourite picture of the whole month:

 

Going back home for a few days brought with it a bit of normality. However, everyone wanted to talk to me about my trip. Why was I in work? Shouldn’t I be in France? I wish I’d had enough annual leave to have stayed for the whole month…

The last-16 match against Northern Ireland on the 25th of June was a marked contrast to anything we’d seen or felt so far at the Euros.

I travelled to Mike’s the day before and we shared a chilled EuroStar train to Paris. Accommodation was tricky to secure so we had to share a tiny Airbnb and a double bed. I’m not sure what our host made of it all!

The day of the match involved converting a voucher for a match ticket:

After getting our tickets it was a calm few hours of beer and gazing at the Eiffel Tower from inside the fan zone:

The queue to get into the Parc des Princes was crazy but once in the nerves hit. In fact, the whole of the Red Wall appeared to be nervous. With respect to Northern Ireland, none of us wanted to be knocked out by what we deemed to be an inferior side.

The irony was that Northern Ireland were the better side for large periods of the match. We weren’t able to create any real clear opportunities but then neither did they. In the end, Gareth McAuley beat Hal Robson-Kanu to Gareth Bale’s left wing cross and the rest is history. The relief at the final whistle was akin to that felt at the end of a qualifier where we only just beat the pot six side by the odd goal.

Cue the players’ children taking to the pitch, with Bale’s daughter proving more lethal in front of goal than both sets of players!

The NI fans were great throughout though. They were having the time of their lives whilst we were mildly terrified. They out-sang us to the point where we joined in with the ubiquitous Will Grigg’s On Fire chant!

The Parc des Princes:

The rest of the gang went off to find some alternative accommodation as they had discovered their initial accommodation didn’t exist. Mike and I returned to the fan zone to watch the Croatia/Portugal match with a strange feeling of relief and that it was now over to the remaining countries to battle though to the quarter finals. I don’t recall us even talking about who we would face in the next round…

The quarter finals of Euro 2016. Incredible. Again, I headed to Mike’s the night before and we found ourselves in a local bar run by Poles. We joined the management and local clientele in supporting Poland in their match against Portugal, but sadly it was all for nought.

That precious voucher:

We would be heading to Lille on the train in Mike’s car, collecting Clare from her relative’s place in Croydon, and then meeting the rest of the gang at the terminal. Our decision to be on one of the earliest trains turned out to be a master stroke. There were serious delays in the Channel Tunnel and our departure ended-up being two or three hours late.

Haley and I headed to the voucher/ticket exchange whilst the car drivers did laps to avoid parking tickets. We then we headed to our accommodation (four stories of fun with Mike and I in the rafters) and finally to grab some food.

The journey to the Stade Pierre-Mauroy was by metro and we sang all the way there. Cyrmu and Belgium fans have a good history and we mixed happily on the damp walk to the ground. The Belgium fans appeared very confident of a win as we asked for the Belgian tricolour to be daubed down our cheeks.

The Stade Pierre-Mauroy:

With Lille being so close to the Belgian border we were outnumbered. We weren’t out-sung though.

The Belgians started well and Nainggolan scored a worldy after 13 minutes and a few of us thought this could be the end of our French adventure. However, the lads steadied the ship and equalised on the half-hour mark. A corner is whipped into the box and captain fantastic, Ashley Williams, heads home. Cue pandemonium as he wheels away in celebration. The look of pure ecstasy on his face on video replays has since become iconic.

Ecstasy:

I barely remember anything of the second half. The one moment that sticks out is a few of us suddenly yelling at Hal Robson-Kanu to square the ball to Neil Taylor, but of course he doesn’t. He instead scores quite possibly the most famous goal in the history of the Cymru team. Sending three defenders the wrong way with that Cruyff turn and finishing oh-so coolly. Cue pandemonium part two! Hal. Robson. Hal Robson-Kanu!

Belgium go close to scoring a few times but as the clock winds down, with four minutes of normal time remaining, Chris Gunter finds himself so far forward on the right flank, but instead of playing safe and keeping possession, he whips a cross into the box. Sam Vokes rises ahead of Alderweireld and glances a perfect header beyond Courtois. Quite possibly his most famous ever goal! This time it’s not pandemonium. It’s incredulous laughter. We’re actually laughing at the absurdity of being 3-1 up to the team ranked second in the world in the quarter finals of Euro 2016… Ridiculous.

After the final whistle the incredulous laughter continues and I remember dancing around like a child with Y Ddraig Coch stretched out behind me, and Mike wearing a Belgian-coloured plastic hat that he’d somehow procured:

We found a hotel bar near the ground and drank and danced and sang the night away. Every song from the repertoire made an appearance. We bought buckets of Kronenbourg from locals, watched the replay of the game on the screens, and serenaded a curious young lady who watched us all from her balcony. What a party!

He’s not the Messiah, he a deep-lying midfielder:

Mike, Rich and I were the last to retire for the evening, and after walking the wrong way for about ten minutes (despite me using Google Maps) a helpful pair of local girls in a Clio offered to drive us to our Airbnb. I have no recollection of what we talked about but everyone seemed to think me asking: “vous acceptez la carte?” was hilarious as we were dropped-off!

The semi finals of Euro 2016! Baffling. Where Steve A had had the foresight to ask his better half to book a flight to Paris if we were winning with five minutes of the quarter final to go, I hadn’t. Thus my flight was four times as much as Steve’s at over £400, but at this point I couldn’t have cared less.

So, Cardiff to Paris, then a train to Lyon. I met Steve A in Cardiff airport and we ended-up travelling in the company of Dylan Ebenezer, Eleri Siôn and Owen Money, with the latter even playing a tune on one of the pianos in Paris CDG train station! Mike joined us in Lyon having gotten the train all the way from London.

Match day was beautiful. We made the now-ritualistic exchange of voucher for match ticket (which I didn’t take a picture of, which must have been bad luck!) and bought some merchendise from the Olympique Lyonnais club shop.

There was a carnival atmosphere on the streets of Lyon as we boarded the trams to the stadium and street music was the order of the day.

The Parc Olympique Lyonnais:

Half way through Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau I felt my phone buzzing and pinging. It turned out I had been spotted on TV singing my heart out much to everyone’s amusement!

Ominously, the crowd seemed to be different from the previous games. There seemed to be an edge to it, and this was borne out later when a flare was lit by fans behind us who also indulged in negative shouting and chanting.

With Aaron Ramsey and Ben Davies missing we were always going to be up against it, however, the first half came and went without too much action of note. Unfortunately, the game was a step too far as Ronaldo and Nani struck in the 50th and 53rd minutes to effectively seal a place in the final.

After the game the players spent a lot of time thanking the fans and many of us were emotional. The players looked crestfallen and I found myself being sad for them and not us. It had been a crazy month with so many memories and we just didn’t want it to end…

Afterwards, in a random bar, we all sat around, tired, a bit sad, but oh-so very happy. What a month. What a team. What a country. What a tournament:

The morning after as we waited for our train home:

I don’t really want to end on a sad note, but as I climbed the escalator alone from the platform to the airport, I remember feeling a sense of having lost something dear to me. I felt anxious and very sad that something wonderful had gone forever. I felt lost.

I remember listening to other people’s stories and reading other people’s blogs or forum posts about the Euros and it seems I wasn’t alone in feeling that sense of loss or “come-down” for days and sometimes weeks after the tournament. The whole experience, that month in June and July of 2016 had clearly affected people.

After all, it had been the summer of our lives…