Last month I decided to visit my friends in a small town by the sea. I needed a break from work, so I booked a cheap train ticket and packed my backpack. The weather forecast looked perfect: sunny and warm.

On Friday evening I arrived at the station and immediately noticed something strange. Many people carried big flags and wore the same colours. I thought, “Maybe there is a small football game here.” I walked to my friends’ flat and rung the bell.

My friend Anna opened the door and said, “You picked a very interesting weekend. There is a big football final tomorrow. Our town usually stays quiet, but today it is crazy.” She smiled, but I didn’t feel very relaxed.

The next morning we tried to go to the beach, but the streets were full of noisy fans. They sang songs, drank beer and shouted in front of the cafés. We waited twenty minutes for a bus, but it never came. Finally, we walked to the beach.

The sea looked beautiful, but the beach was already full of people. Some fans played loud music, some left rubbish on the sand, and one man even fell asleep on our towels. We stayed for only an hour and then we went back to the flat.

In the evening it started to rain. The football fans didn’t stop their party. They danced, screamed and banged on the doors of our building. I couldn’t sleep, so I made some tea and watched the match on TV. Our team lost, and the fans became even louder.

On Sunday afternoon I took the train home. The town looked peaceful again from the window, but I felt very tired. It was the right place – I loved the sea and the old streets – but it was the wrong weekend. Next time I will check the football calendar before I book my ticket.

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