There were no photgraphers waiting for me outside this time and I asked Mark if they had lost interest in the story.

"No mate, there's plenty of interest, just wait and see"

We walked through the corridors and saw Mr Roig waiting by a door.

"Ah, Mr Mills, the newspaper men are all ready for you and I see you are not yet changed?"

"err, there was a...."

Mark cut me off and expalined the situation in Spanish to him. I could see his frown as his gaze fixed itself on the dodgy stains.

"Hold this and stay seated for goodness sake" and he handed me a Villareal scarf. He then opened the door where a blur of flashbulbs and camera clicks startled me, sending me back on my heels and into Mr Roig who struggled to compose himself. I dropped the scarf in the dazed muddle of my entrance and heard the odd chuckle from photographers as my stained shorts stole the limelight.

We sat down behind a long desk with the Villarael emblem emblazened on the wall behind us. On the surrounding walls were photographs of glorious moments in the club's history. My throat went dry and I glugged slowly from the bottle of evian on the table.

Mr Roig hushed the crowd with the control of a powerful man and introduced me in Spanish.

He then went on to talk for a while, the journalists laughed in places but I felt helpless not understanding what he was saying. There was then a long pause which I soon realised was my moment.

"Thank you all for coming here today" I read from the sheet of paper handed to me as I went in "I am pleased to be part of this fine club. Errr....any questions?"

I'd already clocked the surprise on thier faces that I had spoken in English and not attempted Spanish but I still wasn't prepared for what followed.

"Senor Rocha, ESPN Espana, Cuales son tus esperanzas para el club?"

I froze and looked for Mark in the crowd but he was gone. A long painful silence followed before I turned and smiled to Mr Roig.

He leaned to me and whispered "what are your hopes for the club?"

"I hope to take this club to the top, to win trophies, for Villareal to be the best"

Again, silence, apart from the odd sound of scribbled notes.

"Louisa Sambrosa, Marca, Usted cree que puede ganar la liga?"

This time I at least recognised the words La Liga...Roig leaned towards me and translated - do you think you can win the league?

"yes, it is just a matter of time"

This prompted a few chuckles and I so desperatly wanted this nightmare to end. I drained the bottle of water.

"Carlos Mendez, El Mundo..." - the guy was smirking as he spoke and I took an instant dislike to him.

"Cree que va a hacer frente sin poder hablar espanol?"

The journalists all looked at him and smiled, awaiting my reply.

Roig didn't look pleased and rose to his feet..."no more questions now" he shouted in Spanish and ushered me out the room.

"what was that last question Sir?" I enquired

"The same one I have for you Mr Mills...do you think you will be able to cope not knowing how to speak a word of damn Spanish!"

He stormed off, leaving me with a member of staff who was to show me the rest of the stadium. I immediatly saw them scan my shabby stained outfit but I couldn't even be botherd to explain and just followed them down the hall.

The facilities were better than I'd expected. In fact my whole mood was lifted a little just to know that I was working at such a high level, even if I was a joke here. I was shown the dressing room and function area. I felt like I was on a tourist trip and should be taking photos, not thinking that from now on this was where I worked.

I was overwhelmed by it all. The member of staff who was showing me around then said something in Spanish and left the room in an apologetic way. I was a bit lost as my sense of direction was pretty poor.

I turned a few corners and went through a couple of doors until I came across the most important place of all...

I stepped out onto the pitch and took in the view...

Eventually a member of staff found me and took me through the various doors until I was back out in the car park. Isabel was there waiting and drove me back to the villa.

As I walked up the steps to the front door I saw another parcel. This one looked as if it had been hand-delivered since I had been out.

I walked into the front door and opened it.

The note read - 'some light reading'