Charity begins at home. After more than two months and the sale of virtually all of my personal possessions, my online charity auction is finally over. Although my house is a lot emptier than it was before Christmas, I’m delighted to report that we raised £3,000 for charity, which is absolutely fantastic.

A very generous bid of £475 won my boots that scored the 15,000th Premiership goal at Chelsea in late December. I’d read in the paper on the morning of the game that goal number seven to go in that day would be the 15,000th, so I was following all the results on the digital scoreboard at Stamford Bridge while we were playing, and once the sixth went in, I decided it was time for me to pop up and sort it out – just to create another auction item of course. . .

We also got £142 for a Man of the Match champagne magnum I somehow won after the Middlesbrough game just before Christmas. No idea what it tastes like because I’m not a drinker. My tipple is hot milk with a spoonful of honey. Don’t laugh – it’s what Germany was built on. Anyway, back to the bubbly – it’s a big bottle and I did sign it too but I’m sure that can be wiped off.

By far and away the hardest treasure to part with was my beloved Panini World Cup sticker album. It kept me occupied on many flights between Germany and London last summer while I was flying backwards and forwards between watching games and doing my Maths A-Level. Yes, I know I should have been revising, but the stickers were more interesting – although Landon Donavon and Arjen Robben seemed to elude me forever. It went for £92 in the end – which is still probably less than the amount of money it cost me in stickers to fill it!

It also had some extra added value after I got it autographed by the legendary Roger Milla after I clocked him while waiting at Hamburg airport. Although, had I known how much of a muppet I’d make of myself in the process, I’m not entirely sure I’d have been quite so keen on the idea. My desire to get to him before he boarded his flight was so strong that I ripped my ticket out of the check-in girl’s hand, legged it across the airport towards him, but forgot to do up my bag in all the excitement. Its entire contents came flying out all over the floor right under his nose – including all my autograph picture cards that I had with me to give to the kids back in my hometown. . . as you do.

It really couldn’t have been any more embarrassing. I was desperately trying to pick up all my stuff – especially the pictures – and he was just standing there looking a bit confused while this crazy German guy bumbled around at his feet. I tried to explain in my best broken French (yes, I’ve got the A level) that I played in England. But he just looked at me blankly. All I can assume is that he was either totally unimpressed or didn’t have the faintest idea what I was on about. But he still signed my Panini album, and that’s all that matters.

Oh, and I’ve realised why I’m not getting called up to the German national team by the way. The German Federation sends out a quarterly magazine to all its members, and having played all through the youth set-up and for the Under 21s it gets sent to me – except I’ve just noticed that on the envelope it says “Moritz Volz, Aston Villa”. The scouts they’re sending must be very unimpressed with my lack of games. Could be a long wait for that first cap. . .