naturally, it got worse.

confession 004

four countries. one day. questionable judgement.

Switzerland filled pretty quickly.

Germany followed shortly after.

France, however, was proving problematic.

I’d already had to switch clubs once and by this point I was becoming increasingly convinced the whole thing was about to fall apart before I’d even left England.

Then somebody mentioned there was a 24-hour padel club in Bolton.

Suddenly everything was back on.

If I landed at Manchester around 10pm, I could technically still book a court at 11.30pm and complete three matches in three countries in one day.

The challenge was intact.

I flew out from Manchester on Thursday evening and immediately discovered I had an entire row to myself on the plane.

Things were already going suspiciously well.

I knew there was a bus from Basel airport into the city centre, but the moment I landed I realised I had no data.

If you know me personally, you’ll understand this is an extremely dangerous situation.

I am constantly lost.

Still, I knew the hotel was somewhere on the river, so I wandered through Basel in the dark hoping for the best.

To be fair, it was beautiful.

Everything was softly lit, the river reflecting the lights across the water, the whole city somehow feeling calm and cinematic despite me essentially navigating it on instinct alone.

Miraculously, I found the hotel.

Honestly one of the most impressive achievements of the entire challenge.

I’d already eaten at Manchester Airport so I checked in, unpacked, had a shower and got into bed around 11.30.

Unfortunately the combination of adrenaline, anxiety and excitement did not make for a restful night’s sleep.

By 5.30am I accepted defeat and decided I may as well get up.

One motivational mirror speech later, I packed my bag, checked out and jumped on a tram.

I wanted to squeeze in at least a tiny amount of culture before the sporting chaos began, so I headed to the Three Countries Bridge with visions of a sophisticated continental breakfast in a lovely riverside café.

Instead, there was a surprising lack of cafés and I ended up eating a multipack Twix.

You know the tiny ones that are so small it honestly feels insulting.

Still.

By 9am I’d already walked over 10,000 steps, visited three countries and seen Dreiländerbrücke.

Not bad for breakfast plans gone wrong.

My first match was at Union Padel Basel at 9.30am.

I arrived at the building and immediately couldn’t work out how to get inside.

Classic Katrina behaviour.

After some confusion I eventually found myself walking down a ramp into an underground car park before somehow locating the courts.

Union Padel is actually really cool. Completely self-service. You enter with a code and all the lights come on automatically.

Very futuristic.

The match itself was brilliant.

Three really lovely guys, a genuinely strong standard and loads of long rallies, lobs and chaotic running around at the back of the court.

The atmosphere was amazing too. Everyone was invested in the challenge and so supportive.

The only slight issue was that abroad, ninety-minute matches seem to be fairly normal.

In the UK we usually play for sixty minutes, so by 11.20am I was already significantly more tired than anticipated and my Germany match started at 12.30.

I thanked the guys, jumped into an Uber and crossed into Germany.

The German match felt completely different.

Fast.
Low.
Aggressive.
No lobs whatsoever.

I ended up partnering with an Italian guy against a couple and it became a really tight match.

I speak a little bit of German, so there was at least some communication happening.

Every time somebody hit a ball long, one of the guys would point dramatically into the distance and announce that it had gone all the way to Manchester.

Honestly, a solid joke every single time.

Nobody came for the court afterwards either, so we just kept playing.

By the end of it I’d played almost two hours in Germany.

At this point I was exhausted. The France match still wasn’t confirmed and I’d convinced myself there was no chance it was happening.

I showered at PadelOn Grenzach-Wyhlen and realised I had absolutely no idea what my next move was.

Then, the moment I walked out of the shower, I got the notification.

“Your match is confirmed.”

Suddenly everything changed.

It was 3pm.
The match was at 4.30pm.
And now I somehow needed to get to France.

I tried to order an Uber.

Nothing.

The data curse had returned.

Despite having roaming switched on and an eSIM supposedly covering the whole of Europe, I once again had absolutely no signal.

This was the first moment I properly panicked.

Because now I was alone.

The people I’d played with had left, my bag suddenly felt twice as heavy and I realised I hadn’t fully considered the physical side of this challenge.

The walking.
The travelling.
The sightseeing.
The longer matches.
The general chaos.

Fuelled entirely by a second multipack Twix, I started walking.

Somewhere nearby I’d seen a train line on the map earlier, so I headed in that direction and somehow, despite my complete lack of natural navigation ability, I actually found the station.

Only to discover there were no trains running.

At this point it genuinely felt like Europe itself was trying to stop me.

Delirious and hungry, I wandered into a German café desperately searching for food and, in my confused exhausted state, asked the woman behind the counter in French whether she spoke English.

I cannot speak French.

She replied in perfect English.

And for reasons I still cannot explain, I continued attempting broken French despite actually knowing some German.

To that woman specifically:
I am deeply sorry.

Thankfully she made me an excellent ham sandwich which restored some sense of emotional stability.

From there I spotted a bus stop and convinced myself there must be one going back towards Basel.

Then I looked across the road and saw the word:
“Allschwil.”

The French club was called Padel Arena Allschwil Hegenheim.

At this point I was operating entirely on instinct, Twix and blind optimism, so I ran across the road and jumped onto the bus with absolutely no idea where it was going.

Considering how much time I’d spent meticulously planning logistics for this challenge, things had now descended into complete lunacy.

Still, the ham sandwich had given me renewed focus and I refused to be beaten by public transport.

Eventually I arrived in Allschwil, which technically was still Switzerland.

Naturally, I set off on foot again.

Because clearly I hadn’t walked enough already.

I crossed into France on foot, passing little houses in the sunshine and suddenly, despite everything, I felt really happy.

Alive, actually.

I don’t know if that makes sense.

Thirty minutes later I finally arrived at the club.

There was only one problem.

I was the only person there x