You've traumatised me with that post.
When I was 14 or so we went on a week-long class trip from Norfolk across the country to Gloucestershire, the highlight of which was due to be Symonds Yat and the astonishing tsunami that would course down the River Severn, the mythical Severn Bore.
That, and of course, we would all lose our schoolboy cherries in a week-long sexfest.
Of the latter, not the vaguest of sniffs.
Of the former, I remember being dragged out of bed at 5 am, getting on a bus and going to the middle of nowhere. Somebody was sick. Once there we waited for an hour and a half as the teacher finally admitted he'd got the time wrong.
Eventually the miraculous tidal wave powered down the river to the amazement of us all. Well, not quite. It was about five inches, if that, over the normal water level.
We got back on the bus and went back to the youth hostel. Somebody was sick.
A Tottenham transfer window doesn't seem quite so bad remembering all that.
