The Insomniac Meanderings Post: Nearly Halloween Edition

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well it's 5:22am as I'm starting to write this. Though I actually was awake at 4:30. Tried to sleep but as it's a Saturday where I'm not working insomnia made sure I was up. It can be cruel like that.

Outside through the darkness it seems to be clear. It's also colder. I'm hearing rumours at work of the possibility of snow in the next few weeks. Hope not. March showed how much I hate the white stuff it settles.

Halloween soon. You can tell that by the decorations of the remaining shops left in the high street. Can't say I really care either way. Something to be tolerated I think.

Except that is a word about Pumpkins. One they really aren't that tasty. And Two when you put the leftovers in a food caddy it stinks.

I mean if it wasn't to gut out, put a creepy face on it and a candle within would people really eat pumpkins.....really?

I'm not going to bore you today about the contest to be the next Labour party leader in Wales and therefore the next First Minister except to say one thing. All three candidates have vision of running Wales different to the previous nine years. And whilst their visions are equally flawed and tied to Labour head office in London the fact that they all seem to move away from the way Carwyn Jones has led during that period is surely the ultimate confirmation that his leadership has been a failure.

Rather like Blair the power of the painting in the attic has long since gone.

Here's an interesting one. Have read about Kiera Knightley banning her daughter from watching Cinderella because it implies that for women to get out of a bad situation (and note in the case of Cinderella the villains are women) she needs the help of a man.

Thinking about it whilst it's a pipe dream that some day a royal prince would come (and think of the awful life of despair, drudgery and probable suicide if the story hadn't worked out the way it did) of course it was a woman, the fairy godmother, who started the process of freeing Cinderella from the life her stepmother and stepsisters had imprisoned her to.

And of course there's the Saturday Night question in these months. "Will I watch Match Of The Day tonight?" Of course it all depends on how West Ham do. Currently the season seems to be two steps forward and one step back. Hopefully West ham will beat Spurs today. It would be typical Hammers after losing to Brighton a few weeks back.

It's 7:22am....calling on shepherds....including Ms Grey from a few posts ago. It's a red sky out there.

Random thought. Have worn glasses since seven and will continue until my dying day. Don't like the idea of laser surgery in case it goes wrong and as for contact lenses, well it's like insering double glazing into your eyes.

Anyway time to say goodbye for today.

Until the next time.

Listening To Football With My Mother : Newport County Edition

Hello there. hope you're feeling well today.

So for the moment I'm looking after my mother now thankfully discharged from hospital in this Essex exile for I hope two more weeks before being able to take her back to Wales to complete her recovery and for my wife and daughter to know what husband/dad looks like (my daughter, thankfully in jest - I think - calls me "The Abandoner".

The days seem to be exactly like my mother's days whilst in hospital. Periods of boredom broken in with the hectic. Looking after an unwell relative, even for a hopefully short period makes you appreciate and understand what true carers have to face day in day out.

Yesterday when my mother was settled back in her house I was able to watch Swansea City on free to air TV thrash Notts County 8-1. My mother was discharged from hospital, Swansea City was the giant that killed in the FA cup and I ate a rather good microwave meal from the Co-op. It was a good evening.

This evening however the FA cup replay was not on free to air.Instead the only way I could follow it was on the wireless. Tottenham Hotspur (boo hiss. Even if they are the team of Harlow) and Newport County who, like their West Walian equivalent of yesterday, are for me in that group of teams I wish well unless they face West Ham.

And they are also the underdogs. And when I say underdogs Newport County the lowest positioned side left in the competition.

So the programme on BBC Radio 5 Live begins. I miss the preview. Partly because we were waiting for my mother's carer to the evening. She didn't come. She was running late. NHS might have looked after my mother but the aftercare has been transferred to the private sector. And they are late.

Once that has been sorted out then I need to get to the local chippy for dinner. Pie and chips for me. Sausage and chips for my mother. Her taste buds seem to have radically changed since she's left the hospital. She has eaten today Porridge,bacon sandwiches,grapes,cherries,whole nut chocolate and crunchie chocolate bar. Also tea, coffee and lemonade

The most amazing thing though was the one I'd refused to get. A chicken Mcnuggett meal. Before she would have turned her nose at it. Now she wants it. The only reason why I refused was that it was just that too far away to get given it was the first full day since she was discharged from the hospital.

And so we eat. And we listen to Newport County battling against their Premier league rivals.

"Tottenham" asks my mother "Are they the rough team?"

I think she's confusing Spurs with Millwall.

Was about to answer when Spurs score. An own goal by Butler. Very unfortunate. About ten minutes later Lamela scores a second. The possibility of this going all Notts County begins to be a worrying thought in the head.

The way it's described Newport seem to have been deflated in the end of the first half. Personally my view was they might as well throw everything including the South Walian kitchen sink at Tottenham.

"Who are Spurs playing?" My mother is awake again.

"Newport"

"Newport in Wales?"

I was tempted to say "No Newport in the Isle of Wight".

During the half time break. Where the BBC Winter Olympics people were moaning about the cold weather (yes I know!) she asks more questions.

"Is the game over?"

"No it's half time"

My mother was asleep for most of the second half. And from the sounds so was the game. Tottenham had many chances. Newport had just the one.However The scoreline stayed at 2-0.

But let's just say this. Newport County were beaten but not humiliated.

Until the next time.

Hooray For Harlow

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Before I visited my mother in hospital this afternoon. I needed to go into Harlow town Centre (which is nearby) to get a few pairs of fluffy pyjamas from Primark. The first time indeed I have ever bought women's clothing....he says quickly.

In the morning I'd mentioned this to a cousin who was enquiring about my mother's condition. I said that I'd only ever been once before and I liked it.

"Well I don't" came the response.

Harlow seems to have suffered from NewTownitis a symptom of which is to get decidedly sniffy when it's mentioned. "New" for the sufferers means not old, lacking a sense of tradition, a sense of style. Even though of course some of these buildings were built in the sixties or seventies

Of course there is an "Old" Harlow but nobody thinks about them anymore. The big buildings that announce themselves as you drive along is what most people think of Harlow. The Study Centre, The Leisure Centre (that describes itself as a leisure "zone") and the shopping complex filled with restaurants and superstores called The Water Garden.

Having driven through the area for the past week, and have wandered through it today my view hasn't changed. I'm not going to say that should you have the choice of Paris,Rome or New York the only way is Harlow. But I liked the town. There are far worse places to live in Britain and it does not deserve the snooty disdain that those who hardly know the town seem to give it.

You can always judge a town centre by the shops. So let's start with this:

That is a Polish shop. I noticed another nearby. Harlow: Quietly cosmopolitan.

The shopping centre is called The Harvey Centre. This is the statue in front of it.

To be honest it's an odd statue. Given that the unnamed lady concerned seems to turning her back on the very place she guards. There is incidentally a more interesting sculpture of large books nearby However kids were playing on it and so I couldn't take a picture in case people put two and two together and made five. Still it's worth a look if you're there.

The centre itself is a friendly place to wander round with a good mixture of shops. Must admit I liked it....except for this.

What the......

How did Spurs take control of Harlow so much that they have their own shop here? somehow I get the feeling that the West Ham board missed a trick again.

The shopping centre includes a cinema.Nearby there are more shops as well as a playhouse and a library. Clearly boxes are being ticked. But to me they seem to have slotted in well.

Of course when you think of Harlow you think of something like this.

But there is nothing wrong with this if it works. And from the relatively brief time I was there today it did seem to work. Sure there are more traditional houses nearby. Less glossy. But it does not matter. What matters is that Harlow seems to be place where new really does appear to mean better.

Until the next time.

Listening To West Ham United With My Mother Part 2

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well for the second time in three days am listening to West Ham United playing against minor blog villain Tottenham. I'm with my mother in Essex being nursemaid whilst she's recovering from a virus infection. She is thankfully better though for reasons I'm not going to explain I won't be able to return to Wales until Tuesday possibly Monday.

My mother is not that knowledgeable on football.

"Who are West Ham playing?" Tottenham I respond. She gives a look that suggests that she's heard of them but that's the amount of her

"Is Nobby Stiles still alive?"

"What's happened to the manager with Bobby Moore?" Ron Greenwood? I answer. No. After twenty questions it turned out she was talking about Harry Redknapp.

There was an early Spurs chance "Have they scored?" No.

Constant Spurs pressure. "Where's it being played?" asks my mother. "Wembley"
"Ah" she says "whilst the new stadium is being built".
She knew that?

There is the tone from the BBC Radio 5 Live commentary that suggests Tottenham are going to score soon. I hear the sound of "Bubbles" in the air. The summariser is Steve Claridge, an ex-footballer with more clubs than Jack Nicklaus, and whose book Tales From The Boot Camps I'd recommend.

It is goalless in the first half. 74% possession for Spurs but goalless. This is so far so good.

"Can you do bacon in a microwave?" asks my mother. With every day that passes she's asking for more things food wise. She fancies that for lunch tomorrow. Fine by me.

Second half seems dull when all of a sudden there's a penalty call for Spurs. Apparently it was a good call. No penalty....thankfully. Shortly another penalty call. Again rejected by the referee Mike Dean. A man Arsene Wenger doesn't like. Arsene Wenger: a man who proved the Grinch didn't try to steal Christmas, he was too busy managing Arsenal.

Then against the run of play Obiang scores for West Ham on twenty minutes . A brilliant goal to watch on radio apparently.The excitement portion of the commentary and the crowd increases. You don't think.....?

Thirteen minutes remaining. See the goal on Twitter.....wow!

Then Son scores for Tottenham. Apparently just as good as Obiang's. 1-1 then.

That's how the match finishes. Must admit I'd have taken that result at the start of the game.

My mother was asleep for most of the second half. At the end of the match she wakes up.

"Who won?"

I tell her it was a draw.

"At least they didn't lose".

True enough.

Until the next time.

Listening To Swansea City And West Ham United With My Mother

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

"Nothing to watch on the television?" says my mother.

I'm as regular readers will know in Essex in the moment as my mother is recovering from a viral infection. Good news is that she's much better and all she needs to get a bit more energy back. I'll be leaving for Wales on Saturday.

But to answer my mother's question no there's nothing on the television. So I'm listening to football instead. The match on BBC Radio Five Live was blog friend Swansea City vs minor blog villain  Tottenham whilst there would be reports on blog hero (alright flawed hero) West Ham vs blog I don't know how to describe them West Bromwich Albion.

Swansea City had the new managerial appointment of Carlos Carvalhal. Which you could only look and wonder "why him?" West Ham had David Moyes, a manager where my opinion has moved from "Why him? He's rubbish, He's the messiah and currently "Why him?"

After about twelve minutes Spurs score. Llorente.Ex Swansea player. Apparently it was offside but no one seemed to really care as it appeared that Tottenham were so good /Swansea so bad. Listening to ex Swansea and in terms of his performance as a Hammer the best ex Arsenal player to play for us John Hartson being depressed. Swansea seem to be outplayed and outmanoeuvred in the apparently teeming South Wales rain.

Half an hour comes news from London. West Bromwich score. Leading West Ham 1-0. So let's get this straight, the teams I'd want to win are losing....perhaps it's me.

My mother has nodded off. Wish I could.

As the first half ends Swansea gives its fans more hope than at it's beginning but as any West Ham fan will tell you there is a misery in hope.

Second half.  Do I know what happened in the beginning? No. Wife rings. Tell her that I'm going to come home on Saturday. Moment I pass her to my mother there's good news from the TV. West Ham has equalised...meanwhile I hear discussions of the colour of paint on rooms. Another sign that she's better is that long female conversations on the phone have returned.

My mother chats further with my wife. Apart from the odd bit of excitement there appears to be no action with the matches. More action with the conversation between mother and wife.....worries me when they are close. Somehow I feel it's going to end badly for me somehow.

"I agree with you" says my mother to the wife. Suggesting that she disagrees with me.

Thirty five minutes that call was. Mainly between two of the three women in my life (the other being my daughter I should stress).

Two minutes left in the game. Spurs score. That would be it for the Swans.

Then last minute...WEST HAM SCORE!!! Andy Carroll the player who can be irritating yet inspiring in equal measure is in his inspirational moment . Now you might argue that West Brom were tired having spent two matches in three days...and you would be right...but I'm afraid I don't care...BECAUSE WEST HAM WON!!!

"Spare a thought for Alan Pardew" says the BBC radio reporter....well.....no.

I know childish of me. But as I've said once before (when I wasn't this old) that although I'm a fifty four year old man football, and only football, has the power to turn me into a ten year old boy.

Match Of The Day is on tonight. My mother has gone to bed. Will be watching it now.

Until the next time.

Leyton Orient From A Distance

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I know that I haven't mentioned sports a lot in this blog recently, as most of my spare time has been spent on the agonies and ecstasies of moving house (scrub that, just the agonies).

But there was a piece of news I heard yesterday that cannot go uncommented. After one hundred and twelve years Leyton Orient have been relegated from the Football League.

As explained previously though I'm a West Ham fan there are a group of clubs such as Cardiff, Swansea and Newport County that I consider friends. The best way to describe my attitude to these teams is like being very friendly with a woman but not having an affair as you're faithful to your wife.

But by far the oldest team in this group is Leyton Orient.

When I was much, much younger and the Hammers were playing far away I would travel down the central line from Redbridge to Leyton tube station, walk to Brisbane Road and watch a game. And you know, even if it's from the misty fog of nostalgia can't ever recall a game that was dull.

O's fans had a different sense of humour as well. I can remember a game in the eighties (can't give precise details, the programme having been boxed/crated) against Brighton. It's the first half and the Brighton player Steve Foster was sent off for a dangerous tackle. The away fans at the far end of the ground from me were furious. Screaming blue murder at the decision. The Home fans seemed content enough to do nothing but cheer until half time.

However once the ref blew his whistle the Brighton fans increased their hostile roars against him. The Orient fans? As he was approaching the tunnel they stood up and gave the man a standing ovation.

Brighton now promoted to the Premier League. Orient now relegated from the Football League. There are many twists and turns in football. It can provide joy but also can be cruel to those who don't deserve it.

I mentioned in September that in late nineties took my then girlfriend (and now wife) to watch a match where they faced the Welsh team Merthyr Tydfil in an FA Cup third round match. So it's even been used to help me court her. So thank you for that.

But of course they've never had it easy. Living under the shadow of the bigger London clubs, and particularly West Ham meant that they would always have pressure with regard to support. I support West Ham because it's the closest team to where I was born but am always annoyed by people living by me who supported Arsenal (Man Utd etc) because it was the more successful club so can understand Orient fans' annoyance. And when West Ham won the battle to move into the Olympic Stadium there was a lot of focus on Tottenham's failed attempt to do. But Spurs were just being North London chancers. Leyton Orient was more affected by this move and to me from a distance here in Wales seems to have been ignored by the London authority.

With the exact science that is hindsight the match I saw in September was a shape of things to come. At that time the O's were in top half of the table and their opponents Yeovil Town were at the bottom. But despite what the table standings would have suggested beforehand and that the home team were basically the better side, Yeovil had but one clear opportunity to score and they took it.

But it's what happened after the defeat that I'll always remember. When the Orient fans shouted their protests at the emperor Nero of an owner and he seemed to have waved their concerns away with cold disdain from an executive box. His look at that moment is one I'll never forget, seeming to have viewed the fans as if they were peasants.

It since then it's got much worse. A succession of defeats and indeed managers have led them to the relegation they have to deal with today. But you could argue that off the field the situation is even more worrying. A winding up order due to unpaid debts is hanging over the club and staff haven't been paid since March which they issued a statement about saying that they've had no communication about this from club directors. A situation that goes beyond sad. Tragic is the closest word I can think of.

The attitude of the owner is beyond comprehension. At best it seems to be Nero fiddling whilst Rome burns. At worst the thoughts turn much darker but I don't feel expert enough to discuss it here. I would suggest downloading the Orient Outlook (the best one club podcast I know) when it next comes out to hear the opinions of its more knowledgeable presenters. It'll be a sad listen but an important one for all fans of football.

Leyton Orient. In a hospital bed fighting to stay alive. For what it's worth I hope you'll pull through.

Until the next time.

The Post For Athiests,Henry James Doubters and Those Who Remember Alan Gilzein

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Let's start with some housekeeping, or rather housenotgetting news. The search continues. The reason why I haven't blogged for the past few days is that we were close to getting two houses, both which we had seen twice. Ultimately though the doubts that were niggling in our minds, one house for me, the other for the wife, stopped us from making an offer the buyer couldn't refuse.

In my case it was a house at the limits of our budget which still needed work on it and, more crucially, had the feel of needing work that we couldn't see. As for the wife she sees the next house as a final forever home and it was the steps on a tiered garden which was ultimately the dealbreaker. She could not see how it could be dealt with as we become more aged (remember should I outlive my wife this will not be my last house. Which is probably why this didn't enter my brain.Will move to the Rhondda Valley, particularly Treorchy and end my days in this classic example of Italy with rain).

This Easter weekend we are having a househunting binge in the Penarth and surrounding areas, four houses on Saturday, three on Monday. I say "we" because I'll be working on Saturday so a friend might accompany my wife and daughter then. If no house comes into play by the end of next weekend a renting we will go.

And as we're chatting about the Easter weekend (seamless or what?) I'm writing this post at 5:23am on Good Friday morning. I'm working two days on this holiday period, today and tomorrow. Other than not being able to view those four houses on Saturday I'm not bothered by this. I'm not religious, but it goes beyond that.....I'm an atheist.

From Catholicism to atheism in fifty three years, actually much earlier than that really, my forties. I just came to a point in my life when I saw the suffering in the world and thought " A God? Really?".

Do you know what the worst thing about being an atheist is? It's that if we're right and our literal lifetime guarantee expires, we can't gloat to those who believe and say "I told you so" as like an unfixable machine when you're gone you're gone.

Mind you should despite logic and science should those who believe in an afterlife are proved right they will have little time to gloat as given all the religions in the world there can only be one that's actually correct. For all we know people will enter an afterlife and find that all their beliefs have been an elaborate joke by Zeus.

On that basis it was probably a joke by Zeus that has me awake at this time on Good Friday when I'm working the afternoon/evening shift ............or led me to reading a collection of short stories by Henry James.

This was, let me stress again, the first book by Henry James I've ever read. Also,
if you're a regular reader of this blog you'll know that I can dislike one book by a writer and like the next. That said it was the most pointless book I've read this year so far and definitely the most disappointing.

Nothing much happens and I'm including any Katherine Mansfield style nuance in that as well. My one thought as I was reading this was "Is that all there is"?

The next book could not have been more different. In Search Of Alan Gilzean by James Morgan. Gilzean was a footballer who played for Dundee and (how I remember him through the nostalgic prism of childhood) Tottenham in the sixties and seventies. Now I'm West Ham till I die (with no afterlife remember) but I did enjoy watching Spurs in that period. They played with a sort of elan, an enthusiasm which reminded me of how you felt playing football at school....just with a bit more skilll.
Gilzein, along with the likes of Martin Chivers and Steve Perryman was synonymous with that period, and although they were not as successful as their North London rivals Arsenal they're probably (with the exception of Bob Wilson) remembered more fondly to the neutral.

The mystery with Alan Gilzein is what happened to him after he left football. No one apparently knew. He was, as the saying goes, "off the radar".

It's this that makes this book different because essentially it's two stories entwined into one. Firstly it's a football biography and a good one at that as it reveals a complex character that footballing history has seemed to have underrated. Secondly though it's a detective story as we follow the author as he seeks to find out what's happened to his subject. He mixes these strands well. It's a good read and I do recommend it.

So the book I'm now starting to read is Don Quixote by Miguel De Cervantes. It was chosen randomly though it seems to be a bit current now given the arguments re Spain/Gibraltar. I'm not sure where I stand on Gibraltar. Except to say that given the way Britain is becoming a cold and cruel country particularly post Brexit perhaps they should look again at Spain should the rise of jackboot politics/journalism continue.

Until the next time.

In Which I Support Manchester United For The Day And Other Couch Potato News

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I have cancelled my Sky Sports subscription now that the final West Ham/Boleyn game has come and gone. However there is about three weeks or so before the channels are taken off my screen and so I won't deny I've watched/recorded other things.But these have been football matches, and as it's the tail end of the season not that many at that.

With one exception.

Because after having made myself a cup of tea and porridge once I'd woken up yesterday (Saturday). I plonked my backside onto the sofa and watched a recording of the previous night's Natwest T20 game between Essex and Surrey. Cricket wise although I must admit it's normally a sport I'd rather follow on the radio the team I do follow is Essex. This is because when I was a child they would play a Sunday League game at Valentine's Park in Ilford near where I'd lived when (much) younger.

Of course many things have changed since then. For example 20/20 cricket didn't exist, and you didn't then have to wonder how a bank bailed out by the taxpayer is sponsoring a sports competition. Still, Essex is the team I support and so the early morning was spent watching the match.

Essex however lost. But despite the never knowingly undersold quality of Sky Sports commentary, done by people I suspect annoyed that they didn't have the Test Match Cricket gig, I'd lost interest well before that.Should've just stuck to watching football recordings.

The only piece of real energy today was I made a quick trip to Porthcawl for a bit of shopping and a quick trip to the library. The weather was grim, though Porthcawl can still give a good picture no matter how miserable the day.

Fifty Shades Of Grey

As hinted I've borrowed a new book from the library which is this:

The Three Degrees - Paul Rees

This is about the three Afro Caribbean players who started to play for West Bromwich Albion in the late seventies. Their experiences, including the racism which was (if you consider the bananas) literally thrown at them. It should be an interesting read.

Once all the Porthcawl stuff was done it was time to go home and get ready to become a Manchester United fan for the day.

Explanations for the unknowing are in order. At the end of the Premier League season West Ham had finished seventh. A situation which meant they had missed out of inclusion into next season's Europa League judged on that alone. Their only chance was if Manchester United,already in the competition having finished the season in fifth, won the FA cup that they were contesting that day against Crystal Palace. So it meant that yesterday I was like a lot of Manchester United fans in Britain, having never been to Manchester let alone see them play there.

It also meant that I would be watching an FA Cup Final and rooting for the favourite.

As it happens I've never hated Manchester United like other fans do. That goes for Chelsea and Manchester City too. I think it's because I'm old enough to remember when these teams failed. When they got relegated and the years of empty trophy wise.

(Incidentally speaking of the years of empty the best title of a football book ever was Manchester United Ruined My Life by Colin Schindler. Written by a City supporter during United's recent successful period and before the oil money transformed the blue side.It says everything about being a fan when things are not going well)

It doesn't mean I root for them normally (after all in most matches they are the favourite). It doesn't mean I'm immune to cracking jokes about them. It's just that there's no bitter bile that comes from my lips when they are the subject of conversation.

And as I'm rambling on the subject I don't have this hatred towards Millwall either that each others fans are apparently inserted into the DNA. To be honest I feel neutral towards them. A sort of Charlton Athletic state of being.

Tottenham come close. In recent years they've become really annoying. There's something particular about their chairman Daniel Levy that is really dislikeable. When there are shots him on the television during a game, he always looks as if he's about to produce a white cat whilst expecting the arrival of James Bond.

But of course ultimately, there's always Arsenal. I've a group of friends known since childhood from north London who have been rabid fans of the Gunners and have always sort to remind me of their successes and West Ham's failures. Remember one Sunday when I received a phone call gloating over some embarrassing Hammers defeat.For some reason - can't recall now - was in bed laid low by some bug so there was no way I could respond properly. So waited patiently for years until West Ham beat them and I rang them to gloat. I was ...ahem ...thirty five at the time.

I am a fifty two year old man now. But football,and only football has the capacity of turning me into a ten year old boy. When we beat Arsenal in the first game of the season just ended. I viewed it as the long awaited triumph of good over the forces of evil.

But anyway back to yesterday. There was one more match to see before my (temporary) team's game. I'd never watched a Scottish Cup Final Live before and having Sky Sports did give me that opportunity so I took it.It was between Hibernian and Rangers. The latter was recently promoted next season to continue their rivalry with Celtic. A confrontation I can now best describe as being like Cardiff and Swansea with added religion.

Spoiler alert: It was unquestionably the best thing I saw yesterday. Hibernian won 3-2. Thanks in no small part to Anthony Stokes. Apparently he's on loan from Celtic so I assume now that Rangers fans think that he was on an undercover mission to spoil their day. David Gray, their captain scored an injury time and you saw what it meant in his face  and the faces of players,the manager an the fans that the hoodoo of cup failure was now lifted.

Speaking of the Hibernian fans some of them invaded the pitch after the game as did a few Rangers ones. If the TV pictures were anything to go by the wringing of hands at the situation was mainly overdone as although I'm sure there were a few apes of either team it was mainly a case of the Hibs fans being drunk with happiness at their victory. It was the Hibernian manager, Alan Stubbs, who said it best. For when the Sky Sports interviewer tried to get him to condemn the situation he said though not condoning the pitch invasion he understood it. That's a man with a sense of perspective.

By the way Sunshine On Leith is probably the best football anthem ever. If you can watch on Youtube the scenes of the fans singing it after the team received the cup then do it. Your hairs will rise from the back of your neck at the emotion of it all

So to the FA Cup Final and time to watch my team play. Well the first half was, barring a few decisions from the referee Mark Clattenburg that helped United (what a fine match official he is), dull. Time travels fast in a football game when you're bored. It makes your mind wander as well to ask important questions. Such why did Alan Pardew the Crystal Palace manager wear a Triffid on his lapel? And why did the Captain of my team, Wayne Rooney,have a hair transplant when he seems to have settled for a hairstyle best described as US marine?

In the second half Palace, then much to my relief United scored. So by 90 mins the match had to go into extra half time.Then there was a long pause on the TV for about fifteen to twenty minutes whilst I went to have dinner with the other inhabitants of the house otherwise known as my wife and daughter. Unsure what my wife was doing whilst I was watching the football. Daughter was making a hat for her Design and Technology lesson at school and no, I don't understand what a hat has got to do with technology either.

Unpaused the first half of extra time was unmemorable other than for the sending off of Chris Smalling for a tackle more suited to Twickenham. In the second half though my team dominated the game and Jesse Lindgard scored an absolute cracker of a winner.

So my team had won by 2-1. But now it's Sunday my real team is now in the Europa League. So Manchester United ......thank you.

And as it's Sunday I suspect I'd better get acquainted with my wife and daughter again.

Until the next time.