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About Dortmund

Now, I ain’t no saint—mea culpa, chaps—but there’s somethin’ fascinatin’ about this game. Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Proper poetic, innit? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ of some toff in a top hat, whisperin’ that down an alley. Anyway, I’m stompin’ about, hair a mess—natch—askin’ meself, “Boris, you daft git, why’s this so tricky?” Like trackin’ a ghost, it is—here one sec, gone the next.

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Now, let’s gab about the parks – the Stadtpark’s my jam. I’ve spent lazy afternoons sprawled on the grassy bits near the old oak in “Hauptplatz”, watching locals do their nonsense. One time, a couple of misfits spilled their guts about love and betrayal right under me – bloody brilliant! Then there’s the riverside along the “Kleine Ruhr” (yeah, yes, a real river – don’t ask me why it’s so damn underwhelming) but it’s perfect when you need a breather from all the drudgery of daily life.

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