Day 14: Danny In Wonderland.

The day starts with good intention, as they all do, today I'm DEFINITELY not partying (don't read ahead and spoil it), today is THE day I culture myself up, fact. It has to happen and there is plenty planned for today to make sure it does. I've made breakfast in exceptionally good time, I've sorted my laundry, I uploaded the extra pics and stuff to the blog, nothing can go wrong. Nothing.

First things first, a run, I am absolutely stunned at how much weight I've accumulated after 2 months of living away from home, my trainer will not be impressed, he might even laugh at me, he did last time. I hit my first snag of the day, well more like a root actually, and I find myself limping back to the hotel, only to see 5 fresh-faced colleagues from work all limbering up for their morning sabbatical.

Determined to continue in the spirit of the day (the good bit, not the injuring myself bit) I make ready for a trip to the KunstHaus Wien, careful how you're saying that now, it's been recommended to me by my flatmate. I've checked on the map, it's a short distance from the hotel and despite the minor injury, I'm going to walk it.

It's a nice hot day and the Austrians haven't upset me too much in recent days, I've had a good night's sleep and there is no hangover, one might almost say I had a spring in my step, except it's more of a limp. I cross the river and find the museum/gallery with no real problems.

The exterior of the building is quite unsual, it's design is supposed to challenge modern architectural conventions, this continues inside, however I'm not allowed to take pictures. The floors are deliberately curvy and uneven and the whole building has an arty-rustic feel to it.

The building purposely has trees growing out of the window as a message to society that, historically, the construction of cities and dwellings for mankind is often to the detriment of nature and it reminds us that it is nature that gives us life, clean air, light and shade, it's all very worthy.

Inside the gallery it's all a little same-y for my liking and I couldn't actually recollect any picture individually this morning, only that they were bright and colourful. Upstairs is an exhibition by a photographer called Guy Bourdin, a fashion photographer of note during the 50's, 60's & 70's. It's mainly a private collection of photos and fashion prints from Vogue. The copy in the museum would have me believe they are 'provocative, challenging images' I simply think they are sexualized images of women, verging on the pornographic and I don't much care for them. After a few hours of looking around I leave, pleased I've seen it but not feeling anymore enlightened. Outside mind I take a picture of this bollard and on review realise that I also may have captured my very own provocative image.

I decide to take a quick trip to one of the cities big shopping streets, I get there and it's busy, already the streets are teaming with Austrian and German football fans. In amongst the hustle and bustle I find I want retail shelter as soon as possible, yet some how completely bypass the Diesel store, it must be the heat, I dive into a department store for some air conditioning, you can imagine my sheer shock/joy when standing right ahead of me is none other than Cristiano Ronaldo, I'm staring at him and actually can't look anywhere else, I can't believe it's him.

Of course it turns out it isn't him, well at least I worked out it couldn't possibly be him. He's currently in Switzerland for the quarter-finals of the Euro's, so why would he be in a bog-standard department store in Vienna buying a Nike t-shirt, particularly when he's sponsored by them, but he was his double. I decide to head back to the hotel for a cold shower, the crowds and the midday sun are too hot and so is lookie-likie Ronaldo.

Myself and a few work colleagues meet at the stadium in the evening for the Austria v Germany match, we've got commentary position seats. It's going to be a great game, if the Austrians can by some fluke beat them they'll be through to the quarter-finals. I find it quite strange that one punter is deep in a book while everyone else is piling into the stadium.

After an hour and a half of trying to find out where we were supposed to pick up our tickets from we're in. The seats are great, I suppose they have to be if they're meant for commentators, the atmosphere in the stadium is amazing and the crowd are whipped up I also get a little tingle of excitement when some of the footage I edited is shown on the big screens (and it wasn't even good stuff!).

The match is fairly lack lustre, Austria play terribly and unsurprisingly Germany win with a great goal from Michael Ballack. At the end of the match we make a dart for the hotel, taking advantage of our seat location and getting out of the grounds swiftly. Back at the hotel everyone has reconvened and plans are afoot to head into town, I am ready to make my excuses and head to bed, I have finished my drink and even said goodnight to a few people, I'm working tomorrow, I am being sensible.

I'm not going to blame my other editor friends who came in at that point for what happened next, I had already texted them saying I would wait for them, see what their plans were. No the person I'm going to blame is myself for being so weak willed, I was a short lift journey from bed, I was nearly there, I nearly made it, I was tired, I SHOULD have made it.

I might as well copy what happens next from any of the other posts, we got drunk. To be fair not AS drunk as the other nights, but drunk enough, drunk enough to take these pictures.

Drunk enough to (and this I AM proud of) get everyone singing show tunes, amongst us some of the finest football producers in England all quite 'straight'. The bar has called last orders at least 5 times this evening, except as you'll see from the video below it's no longer this evening, it is very much tomorrow morning in a very real, but sadly not very sobering way.

I feel sorry for the hotel staff, they have been tolerant far and beyond any reasonable level for our sing-in, I'm amazed none of the other guests have complained. It's so late the morning staff have come in and are setting up breakfast, a chant of 'we're all staying for breakfast, we're all staying for breakfast, la la laa laaaa' has been struck up to the tune of "Let's All Do The Conga'. Finally I exhibit a show of strength and gracefully retire to bed, well not without a finale first anyway.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' to the tune of 'Don't Leave Me This Way' performed at 6am this morning.