I remember a bleak Saturday back in 1968 when it became apparent around 5.00 pm that Manchester City had won the league. Gentle Reader, believe me I cried.
Fast forward, or rather, slow forward almost half a century and it's a measure of my extraordinary maturity and strength of character that hardly a tear was shed last night in this household. One or two, maybe, of frustration, but who would quibble with those? And I didn't sleep too well. But on the whole I've been a model of calm. Sort of.
And that closes the subject.
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