This is a day I normally loathe, being the day before we all go back to work.
However, after events at Old Trafford a little earlier where United won but, happily, not the one from Manchester, at least I know that "Sir" Alex Ferguson feels even worse than I do. And that, my friends, is "fantastic" (to use one of his favourite words after the ref's given his team two penalties and the other team two red cards).
I haven't been in my local pub today (mainly because it's awful) but, in an act of celebration, I simply had to walk up to take a picture (above) of the sign outside the front door. Credit where it's due, I say.
Ironically, Wee John (himself a Manchester United fan) is in that fine city as I write, waiting for his connection to Cardiff. (I phoned just to check he'd heard the result and, sadly, he had). And whilst I was very sorry to see him go, Jamie was even sorrier. The two of them have bonded very well over the past few days and, both being babies, this was hardly a surprise.
Last night, determined to ensure he wasn't forgotten, Wee John decided to, well, see for yourself.
What a sad little man he truly is.
Earlier, he and I joined our mutual friends Dan and Other John to watch the Leeds Carnegie-Bath rugby match at Headingley. And unlike their footballing counterparts, Leeds were dreadful and deservedly lost.
So we decided to make our own entertainment, actually beginning before the game itself (we must be psychic).
Then at the game...
...and, finally, after the game (where we bumped into Stevie, an old friend from Ballymena, on the right).
Before departing, we allowed England and British Lions hero John Bentley to fulfil a lifelong dream - by meeting Wee John.
I'm sure he's talked of nothing else since.
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