Due to what can only really be described as stupidity, although, now you mention it, idiocy would serve equally well I ended up, not in Berwick Upon Tweed, where I should have been, but in Westport, Mayo, where I patently shouldn't have. I'll spare you the details.
Even though Westport, Mayo was entirely the wrong place it was, is, a very beautiful place. We spent Saturday morning on the beach and could happily have stayed there all day if it wasn't for the fact that Celtic were playing on the telly. So we went back to town to watch it.
Every single pub, in that west coast Irish town, was showing the Man United game though. Each place was thronged with West Brits avidly watching their beloved Manchester heroes. Finally though, I found one pub with only two people in it. They were both West Brits themselves but they had some Irish sympathy. So they took pity on me and let me watch the last half hour of the Celtic game.
That small gesture made me very proud. And I sipped my pint of black blood in celebration of this free state.
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