No strings attached

NO matter how badly you feel, there’s always someone worse off than you.

It's an old consolation but one I clung to on Saturday. That morning, I'd stopped off at my local 'international' hotel, the Britannia Airport in Northenden, South Manchester. It was full of Irishmen over for the United match, faces gleaming with excitement.

A lot of those lads are guys who spend all their disposable income coming over every fortnight; others will have saved long and hard and pulled strings to get a ticket for their one match of the season. (Yes, we Mancs DO realise how much it costs to 'do United' from Ireland at a weekend.)