The weather on the morning of tour had a distinctly misleading optimism about it — a kind of “false sense of security.” Things looked relatively dry and not too cold, which, for Wales Tour, should’ve been our first warning sign. Dryness in Wales is like a polite queue at McDonald’s: possible, but never permanent.

Coaches Butler and Harris met at Morrisons — the traditional epicentre of all great British expeditions — to begin the convoy and stock up on the ever needed Multipacks of Crisps & Chocolate bars….and that’s just for Coach Harris. Upon arrival to Longlevens, Faluyi was already there. In fact, Faluyi was very early, suggesting his parents might’ve packed his bag, kissed him goodbye, and locked the door before sunrise. In similar fashion, Badara is apparently experiencing his first time away from home by himself – much to sister, Esther’s glee.

What followed was a display of luggage logistics that defied physics. It was, without question, the most bags ever brought by one team. Some of the bags were so large we briefly wondered if a few of the lads had packed spare teammates “just in case.”

There were hugs, kisses, and the odd tearful wave goodbye. Drew looked particularly apprehensive when Dad reached in for some goodbye affection.

Denslow, meanwhile, arrived in full medical authority, proudly sponsored by Badhams Pharmacy, complete with a medical bag that could’ve handled anything from a blister to a full-scale pandemic.

At the first Services stop, the survival instincts kicked in. Several boys swiftly abandoned their lovingly packed lunches for the more exotic charms of KFC. Drew, feeling inspired, decided to make a statement by launching Denslow’s drink across the floor. Artistic? Possibly. Helpful? Less so.

Price, ever the gentleman, showed true tour spirit by buying Squibbs a chocolate when he’d forgotten his money — a small reminder that teamwork sometimes starts before you even reach the pitch.

And then came the first official competition of the tour: Heads & Tails. After a tense battle of luck, Callaghan, Denslow, and Squibbs emerged as champions, with Squibbs eventually being crowned the Ultimate Champion.

Coach Butler, however, had less to celebrate — proudly taking home the title of Ultimate Loser, after losing out to the Not-So-Ultimate Loser, Price. Spirits remained high. Dignity, less so.

The game against Afan Nedd went to plan — result-wise, at least — with the Bs running out 5–2 winners despite the home side playing the better football for much of it. Thompson and Cox opened the scoring before Drew came off the bench to deliver a ruthless hat-trick that reminded everyone why he travels with his shooting boots (and occasionally uses them).

A special mention to the travelling fans, who stood loyally in the cold and backed the boys from first whistle to last — all while watching Coach Harris’s patience dissolve at roughly the same rate as the team’s passing accuracy.

Post-match, the Afan Nedd Café put on a spread fit for footballing royalty — or at least for boys on tour — with the classic combo of sausage and chips. Unfortunately, the finishing didn’t improve much: Squibbs, Faluyi, Cox, Callaghan, Crowford and even hat-trick hero Drew all failed to clear their plates, registering the first dropped points in the all-important Eating Category.

Before arriving at the hotel, the boys were introduced to the infamous Tour Marking System — the DREAM Marks. D for Diary, R for Room, E for Eating, A for Attitude, and M for Match. A few faces went blank before Coach Harris even reached “R”.

Arrival at the Holiday Inn brought the big reveal of room pairings for the two nights. Harris and Butler, in a moment of blind optimism, put Cox and Denslow in the room furthest away — assuming they were the “sensible” pairing. (They weren’t. More on that later.) Drew, Squibbs and Thompson shared one room; Price, Callaghan and Pearson took another; and next to Coach Harris — for reasons that now seem unclear — were Badara, Faluyi and Crowford. Harris immediately began questioning his life choices.

The boys were told to unpack properly, with the threat of room inspections later. As Harris explained this in the corridor, Denslow piped up: “We don’t have a toilet in our room!”

This mystery was quickly solved when the connecting door to the bathroom — which also contained a perfectly functional toilet — was pointed out. The embarrassment was immediate and profound.

Ten minutes later, on a casual check to see how unpacking was going, Coach Harris found Cox had pulled out the ironing board to use as a shelf for his clothes. The actual wardrobe sat empty beside him. Harris and Butler exchanged the familiar look that silently said: What have we done?

On the same mini inspection, Badara and Crowford at least smelt fresh, proudly announcing they’d already showered. Faluyi, however, had taken a more “natural” approach to self-care — deciding not to shower at all, despite having the dirtiest knees in South Wales. When questioned, he simply shrugged and claimed, “they’ll be clean tomorrow.” Coach Harris made a mental note: they wouldn’t.

Before Diaries, it was time for the evening games — starting with the ever-chaotic Horse Racing, where each player picked a suit from a pack of cards and cheered it down the imaginary track as cards were drawn at random.

Squibbs was the unlucky loser, finishing with just 4 points from 12, while Coach Butler galloped to victory with 11. Crowford came in a close second with 10, celebrating as if it were Wembley.

Next up was Traitors, a game demanding stealth, deceit, and silence — two of which the boys clearly hadn’t mastered. The first round saw Squibbs and Thompson chosen as Traitors. Thompson went bright red and gave himself away instantly, while Squibbs couldn’t stop laughing long enough to commit any crimes. Game over within minutes.

The rematch showed improvement… slightly. Badara was eliminated early in both rounds, leading the group to conclude he simply had “an untrustworthy face.” Pearson proved to be the silent assassin, though eventually caught, and Thompson once again made it to the final three — betrayed not by strategy but by those tell-tale rosy cheeks.

Meanwhile, the rest of the hotel likely wondered if a zoo had checked into Conference Room 1, given the volume and range of animal noises echoing through the corridor.

Finally, the Diaries brought a rare moment of calm. The boys sat down to write about their day’s antics — and for the first time in history, the coaches got to read what actually goes on in their heads…..and yes, it’s worrying!

First room inspections meant that most were trying to impress. The smell of Lynx (other pungent deodorants are available) filled the air, causing Coach Harris to reach for his inhaler and Butler to feel right at home. Price, Callaghan and Pearson, along with Drew, Thompson and Squibbs, all impressed the judges with solid nines — neat, tidy, and clearly trying to avoid a lecture. Denslow and Cox gained eights, narrowly missing out thanks to a rogue bag down the side of the bed and a towel clinging for dear life to the rail. But the messy delinquents of Room 26 — Badara, Faluyi and Crawford — made history, registering the lowest opening room score since Harris’ records began nine years ago: a mighty five points.

Diaries saw Drew and Callaghan come out on top, with most showing promising signs of creative flair. Denslow, Drew, Price and Thompson all picked up Attitude points for their efforts throughout the day, while Callaghan and Pearson lost one each for leaving behind items that apparently didn’t want to go home with them. Drew again led the way for Match performance, with Price not far behind — the rest hovering somewhere in the land of “good enough.”

Overall scores for the day see Drew leading the pack after Day One.

With the boys tucked in nicely and silence (mostly) achieved, the coaches caught up on The Traitors before sleep.

A successful first day all round — even if Harris is still wheezing from the Lynx fog.

Saturday

It’s 6:50 a.m. There’s a sudden knock at the door. Coach Harris is awoken by Faluyi asking whether it’s okay to shower this morning. Not being able to form words at this hour, a simple nod gives Faluyi his answer and Harris attempts to sink back into his final 25 minutes of beauty sleep… and boy, doesn’t he need it.

The wake-up call reveals Badara, Crowford, and Faluyi as the only room up and ready — and, even more shocking, they’re sat quietly. Over in another room, Squibbs and Drew are questioned by Coach Butler on why they’re sharing a duvet when there’s a spare at the end of the bed. Drew, in full innocence, replies, “I thought it was for display!” The coaches exchange a long, pained glance and silently question every career decision that led them to this hotel room.

Apparently, Pearson is a loud shuffler — enough to wake Price in the other bed — while Callaghan, by contrast, lies completely still, leading teammates to wonder if he’s still breathing. Cox and Denslow are spotted actually making their beds. When asked if they do that at home, Cox gives an immediate shake of the head that translates as: “Absolutely not.”

At breakfast, the hotel staff are amazed by how polite the boys are… the coaches are equally amazed. Cox picks a truly avant-garde breakfast combination of apple, sausage, bacon, and muffin all on one plate. Price’s method of eating a hash brown involves putting the whole thing in his mouth and ripping chunks off with his teeth like a caveman at brunch. Pearson’s hot food goes stone cold as he spends fifteen minutes trying to peel the world’s trickiest orange before Butler eventually steps in to save the day. The effort clearly takes it out of him — Pearson then fails to eat his croissant, losing a point, while Price kindly volunteers to finish it on his behalf.

Squibbs also comes unstuck thanks to those dastardly oranges, while Badara goes the other way entirely and proceeds to eat roughly half the Holiday Inn kitchen.

The first points of the day are lost for a forgotten room key — Squibbs, Thompson, and Drew all exchange looks that scream, it wasn’t me.

On arrival at the game, the boys can’t help but notice how scruffy Coach Butler’s hair is. He sets them a challenge: go unbeaten on tour, and Coach Harris will earn the right to cut it himself. The boys immediately “lock in!” and the deal is struck. Entering the changing rooms, Faluyi surveys the space and asks with genuine curiosity whether they’ve arrived at GL1 — further confirming why his parents are probably enjoying a peaceful few days at home.

The game against Swansea turns out to be an incredibly tough experience. The opposition are easily one of the best sides the boys have faced — sharp movement, effortless composure, and quality all over the pitch. The boys struggle first half, losing it 5-0, but dig deep to produce a battling second-half display, conceding only once more. Special mention goes to Squibbs whose second-half performance was superb and probably helped keep the scoreline at only 6, instead of the potential 12.

After the game, the Swansea coach kindly provides each player with a bag of sweets. Crowford promptly loses a tooth but, undeterred, continues to eat chewy ones as though trying to even the score.

Coach Butler rounds off the misery by losing an Attitude point himself — asking where the medical bag was, before realising he was, in fact, holding it. Similarly, Coach Harris accidentally got into the wrong lane while driving back to the hotel and was overheard by Squibbs and Denslow very accidentally swearing. Harris is torn between him losing an Attitude Point or the boys for eavesdropping.

Greggs — the finest dining Wales has to offer. The boys were given a strict £5 spending limit. Most took the challenge seriously, with Pearson even managing to spend just £1 on a sausage roll (presumably saving for his retirement). Badara, on the other hand, decided to test the boundaries of mathematics and economics by racking up a £6.20 bill. Clearly, numeracy lessons at Coney Hill need urgent review.

Cox, ever the drama queen, had enough of his Cherry Coke halfway through and decided to throw it on the floor — creating what can only be described as a fizzy explosion that would’ve impressed Coca-Cola’s marketing team.

On route to Mumbles Pier, the tide was in, leaving roughly one patch of sand the size of a doormat, occupied by about fifty seagulls. “Are those penguins?” shouted Price, entirely seriously, as the coaches considered whether to arrange extra geography lessons.

Once at the pier, the arcade welcomed its new annual sponsors — our boys — who happily poured every last penny of their parents’ hard-earned money into flashing machines that beeped, blinked or vaguely promised prizes.

Theo became briefly addicted to Air Hockey, only to be annihilated 7–2 by Coach Butler — a rare moment of victory for a man who supports West Ham.

Callaghan dominated the basketball machine, setting a new high score of 72, then casually walking away like he’d just won the NBA finals.

The punching machine brought both amusement and mild shame: Pearson scored an eye-watering 98 out of 1000, while Drew strutted up all bravado and managed just 70 — still managing to hurt his hand in the process. Callaghan again reigned supreme with 451, while Denslow (who had to jump to reach the bag) landed a respectable 404.

Meanwhile, the Tower of Terror machine was practically emptied by our lads. Squibbs hit jackpot first, Crowford learned the technique and cashed in, and Badara soon followed — winning so many tickets the machine ran out. Once refilled, Thompson arrived, popped in £1, and of course also hit jackpot. The staff considered calling security.

The 2p machines saw Drew, Cox and Thompson in their element, while Faluyi and Bolu spent several minutes just trying to figure out where the coins went. Denslow proved a sharpshooter on the Pinchers game — winning every time — only to lose both his prize balls (as it were!) within five minutes. Classic Denslow, we’re learning.

Tickets were joyfully fed into the counting machines for the much-anticipated prize exchange. The most popular choice? Packs of Nerds (expired, as later discovered on the minibus). Nothing says “value for money” like out-of-date confectionery.

Next stop: LC2 Leisure Centre — chaos in chlorinated form.

Somehow, the boys found a ball in the pool… and proceeded to play Keepy-up. Much like this morning, any ability to complete three passes seemed to be troublesome. The game of PIG was abandoned quicker than a New Year’s resolution.

Tradition dictates at least a few players attempt to wrestle Coach Harris. This year’s challengers — Crowford, Drew and Thompson — all discovered that physics isn’t their friend, each being swiftly launched across the pool. Cox, Badara and Faluyi tried their luck too, with similar results and a newfound respect for middle-aged strength and the tiles at the base of the water.

Elsewhere, Pearson and Callaghan were spotted giggling down the kids’ slide, while Denslow’s tiny frame nearly achieved flight halfway down the rubber-ring flume. For reasons unknown, both Price and Crowford’s swim shorts appeared to have a vendetta against staying up, leaving the coaches on permanent “Police watch” for indecent exposure.

The evenings meal saw the boys head to the neighbouring Harvester.

The poor waitress’s face said it all when eleven hyperactive boys arrived and immediately began mainlining fizzy drinks. Faluyi lost two points for leaving “horrible pasta” and peas, and looked personally betrayed to discover that onion rings actually contained onion, not cheese.

Crowford was beside himself with excitement over his steak, while Badara and Drew attacked the salad bar like it was a competitive sport. Pearson and Callaghan, ever the charmers, offered their desserts to the coaches — who happily accepted the puddings but not the implied point bribe.

The highlight of the meal came when Callaghan, leaning forward a bit too enthusiastically, accidentally producing a botty-cough that echoed across the restaurant. Nearby diners pretended not to hear; the coaches failed spectacularly.

Price was happy with himself by winning an Attitude Point for guessing closest to the total bill, proving there is, in fact, a use for maths after all.

Back at base, the boys finally wound down with diaries — the fizzy-drink frenzy slowly wearing off.

Entries were written brilliantly, with only the occasional smudge from sticky fingers – Squibbs gaining the first nine of the Tour.

Room inspections brought a much-improved showing from Team Chaos — Badara, Crowford and Faluyi — who clearly realised that “clothes in a pile” isn’t a valid storage system. Their scores rose sharply, proving that miracles do indeed happen in Wales.

Price, Callaghan and Pearson were on course for a perfect ten, until a single smudge of toothpaste on the sink cruelly dashed their dreams. A harsh but fair penalty — though Coaches Butler and Harris did consider awarding bonus points for artistic flair.

There was one flawless performance, however: Cox and Denslow achieved the elusive perfect ten. Though in truth, one point probably should’ve been deducted for the mysterious odour that greeted the inspection team. We still can’t quite believe that something so potent could come from someone as small as Denslow. The smell alone could’ve peeled the paint off the skirting board.

As for the day’s standings — Price had an exceptional day all round, collecting extra Attitude Points that saw him surge from second place to the top of the overall leaderboard. A well-deserved rise for the boy who mistook seagulls for penguins.

With diaries finally done, rooms tidied (ish), and the sugar crash in full effect, the hotel corridor gradually fell quiet. The coaches did their final rounds — a military-style sweep to ensure no one was still whispering, laughing, or debating who actually won at Air Hockey.

By the time the last light flicked off, Coach Harris resembled a man who’d aged a decade in a single day, while Coach Butler was already half asleep mid-sentence, although still holding his phone like a comfort blanket. Both collapsed into their beds with the kind of exhaustion only eleven excitable boys, three gallons of fizzy drink, and one rogue Cherry Coke explosion can produce.

The faint sound of snoring (and possibly Denslow’s digestive aftermath) drifted through the corridor, as another day of tour chaos came to a merciful end.

Tomorrow would bring fresh adventures, fresh mistakes, and — hopefully — a fresh air-freshener.

Sunday

The 7:15am wake-up call came with a different kind of aroma in the air — part “peace and quiet to come,” part “sweet, sweet rest,” and perhaps a faint whiff of desperation from the Coaches.

The boys were given 45 minutes to pack their bags before breakfast, though some took that as a polite suggestion rather than a rule. Price, Cox, and Denslow were still in dreamland when the rest were halfway through stuffing socks into bags and bags into each other.

The Coaches reminded the squad to shower if they hadn’t done so since arriving in Swansea — which, by the sound of it, applied to more players than anyone wanted to admit. Callaghan and Pearson openly confessed they hadn’t, and then bravely ignored the Coaches’ advice to do so. Possibly a tactical decision: nothing says “strong defensive press” like a personal scent barrier.

At breakfast, the boys once again demonstrated that balance and moderation are entirely alien concepts. Badara opted for a mountain of scrambled egg, only to discover he’d somehow managed to sit in some. Naturally, he denied all responsibility — because apparently scrambled egg just appears on chairs now. Undeterred, he demolished his plate and went back for round two. (Spare a thought for whoever sits next to him on the coach home.)

Faluyi, fuelled by ambition, polished off seven hash browns. Pearson, meanwhile, showed great restraint with what can only be described as a single Corn Flake. And Thompson? Thompson ate enough to legally qualify as two Thompsons.

Final Room Inspections had the Coaches daring to dream — could this be the first ever clean sweep of perfect scores since records began? For a glorious moment, it looked possible. Beds were made with military precision, towels folded to hotel-brochure standards, and even the usual aroma of boy chaos seemed temporarily banished.

Then came Room 26.

The infamous trio of Badara, Faluyi and Crowford managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of perfection — losing a single point for a rogue scrap of paper on the floor and unopened curtains. The Coaches suspect sabotage, but the investigation is ongoing. Still, it was a near-miraculous effort from everyone, and possibly the cleanest the hotel has ever been after hosting a football team.

With inspections done, bags loaded and dignity mostly intact, the B Team playlist made its triumphant return for the trip to Rhondda. It’s a musical experience that can only be described as “genre-confused but emotionally committed.” Where else could you go from KSI to Neil Diamond, dive head-first into K-POP Demon Hunters, and emerge with Oasis? Just like our football, we like to keep people guessing — unpredictable, chaotic, and occasionally tuneful.

The journey up (and we really do mean up) to Rhondda was something out of a travel advert — rolling hills, cinematic views, and a coach full of lads providing the perfect contrast. The road itself, however, was more rollercoaster than road, prompting Squibbs to declare, “This is worse than flying!”

We’re still not sure if he was referring to the steep drops and hairpin bends… or Coach Butler’s driving. For safety’s sake, we’re going to assume the latter.

The game against Rhondda turned out to be every bit as frustrating as the home fixture a couple of weeks earlier. Simple mistakes gifting the opposition far too many chances and goals, and the Yellows never quite found their composure in possession.

The first half wasn’t one for the scrapbook — we went in 3–1 down, with Badara giving us a glimmer of hope by sliding one past the keeper after a lucky break through their defence.

The second half was an entirely different story — more chaos, more drama, and definitely more entertainment. We had it all: missed calls, a yellow card following a kick-out, the odd defensive wobble, and flashes of real quality. Badara, working tirelessly up top, caused all sorts of problems and laid it off beautifully for Thompson to make it 3–2. Then Callaghan’s corner found Price, who levelled the score, before Crowford stepped up with a thunderous free-kick to put the Yellows ahead.

Unfortunately, with two players injured and the earlier comeback taking its toll, fatigue set in. Concentration slipped and mistakes crept back in, and Rhondda capitalised — scoring twice late on to reclaim the lead.

It ended as another game of what ifs:

What if we’d started sharper?

What if we’d stayed switched on?

What if we’d stopped diving into tackles?

What if we played the way we know we can from the first whistle?

Plenty of lessons, plenty of spirit (in the end)… and probably a few more grey hairs for the Coaches.

The route home is noticeably quieter — the kind of silence that only comes from sheer exhaustion. It’s so uncharacteristic, it actually unnerves the Coaches.

A final stop at the Services provides yet another example of “athlete nutrition.” Crowford attempts to eat noodles with his hands, managing to get roughly three strands in his mouth and the rest on the floor. Squibbs returns triumphantly carrying the largest McDonald’s bag known to man — heaven only knows what he’s ordered — while Callaghan plays the hero, sharing crisps and sweets with Pearson like some kind of motorway Robin Hood.

Back on the bus, the final DREAM Marks are totted up and the Match scores debated one last time as we roll back into England — mercifully dry, unlike Wales, which still hasn’t decided what weather it wants.

Drop off shows that some parents are happy to see their beloveds and others wanted a few more days peace.

All in all, aside from the occasional footballing hiccup, it’s been a brilliant tour. The boys have been a credit to themselves, their parents, and the Association. Across the few days, countless people commented on how polite and well-behaved they were — and rightly so. They should be proud of themselves. Thank you also goes to the travelling family members that joined us. Your constant support was greatly appreciated. I know some of you enjoyed yourselves anyway and I hope you also get some needed rest :-).

As for the Coaches… we’ll remember the smell of Lynx, the toothpaste smudge that cost a perfect ten, the Harvester regret, and the moment we realised Denslow could clear a room quicker than a fire drill. But more than that, we’ll remember the laughs, the teamwork, and the sight of a brilliant bunch of lads representing their club with pride.

Now if you don’t mind, we’re off to sleep for roughly three days.