IN my two spells with Forest, I have been dragged all over the world for friendlies. I only wish they did air miles back then.

I have flown in the private jets of Saudi princes and have watched the locals in Abu Dhabi stare in amazement at the first snowfall they had ever witnessed.

I have seen the delights of Kuwait and Australia, too. I have been forced to stay overnight in Jordan, en route to Oman. We were not allowed to fly over Iraqi airspace at night because of Middle East conflict.

As a player I had enjoyed a terrific time. But I broke every rule in the book in terms of preparation for games.

God knows what we would have won if we had stayed sober before games!

I remember being captain for a game in Majorca when BC asked me what time the curfew should be. I hesitated and suggested it should be left up to the individual.

"Gaz, you're my skipper, give me a time!" "How about 2am, gaffer?" I said, fingers crossed.

"Done. Be good!"

I still came in at 5am and that was nothing compared to the madness of the game. The Spaniards booted us all over Majorca and the Gaffer was going mental on the touchline.

I got carried off injured, Ian Wallace had to come off for his own good and the Gaffer was frog-matched to the dressing room by a policeman with a gun.