Reflections at 10, 000 feet (or something like that.)

Tuesday 16th March, 11.45 UK time (no idea what time it is wherever I am)

15 hours into our journey and finally Kieran has given into sleep with a few tears and a tummy ache. Still a long way to go but we will be there by this evening. I am extremely conscious that the tournament is well underway and the adventure has definitely begun for everyone else. (See www.streetchildworldcup.org for official blog.)

I have to say, I could not ask for a better travelling companion, not sure Kieran could say the same of me. I think he despairs of my constant need to check passports, tickets, money, bankcards etc and the occasional minor panic when I can’t find them, not to mention my need to use every toilet we pass – just in case and the limited time we had left to visit the toy shops. However, that said, we have already learnt a few magic tricks, watched a couple of films, read some Karlsson on the roof, played a few games and laughed at a few odd bods and the weird and wonderful bag of toys that Emirates give to the kids – dress your own tiger (in a tiger costume – pull on paws, ears etc and a camel hand puppet - note to self camels do not work as hand puppets unless you stuff the hump, otherwise they look a bit dehydrated, been on a plane to long perhaps.)

As we wandered through Dubai airport, past the vast number of gold shops and jewellery stands, all doing excellent business I might add, I wondered what the street kids would have made of all this as they made their various journeys from far flung places. Airports are such havens for the rich and the privileged, full of people who so often take travel for granted (not always, but often). The majority, if not all, of these kids didn’t have a passport until a few months, weeks, days ago. In fact, many of them didn’t even know their date of birth or their age until this whole process started. Imagine that. If nothing else comes of this (and I say that believing that more than we could ever have imagined is coming from this whole crazy business) a whole bunch of teenagers suddenly have an identity, they are people just like you and me and I am reminded of quote used in the publicity

‘When they see me on the streets they see a street child but when they see me playing football I am a person just like them’ (From one of the South African team members)

Being a trustee of an organisation like the Amos Trust is a real honour, the role of trustee takes on many different forms but occasionally it feels like being a parent, you feel nervous for them as they go out there and doing something new and brave and exciting. And you feel so proud when they pull it off, having heard their dreams in the very beginning and watching them go about the business of making it happen, stumbling from time to time, needing to be pulled in occasionally, sometimes needing to hear words of encouragement when the going gets tough and then just being there to watch their latest project unfold and it will be such an honour to be there and I know that I will be so proud to be involved with the amazing people that have made this happen.

And so I sit here, gazing at my own little, privileged young man as he sleeps soundly. I am full of hope for this trip, wondering how this will change him and shape who he is. Admittedly, hoping he won’t come back too street wise, and I feel a whole host of emotions: nervous, worried, excited but mainly just desperate to get there and meet this very special bunch of young men and women and just get stuck in…

And so to sleep, after a quick photo of my sleeping beauty