When it comes to football, my eldest daughter is possibly the most superstitious person on the planet. As far as possible, everything has to be the same as the corresponding match in a previous season. Any slight deviation could mean a defeat. Obviously, the entire football world runs on the basis of what happens in this house on any given day.
So, just for today, and in order to try and calm her down from the state of superventricular hyperventilation she has worked herself into, I have decided to go along with it and do my best to re-create the day in 1999 when United last won the European Cup.
I have mentioned in a previous post, that for reasons known only to herself, she remembers what we had for tea.
Steak and onions it is, then.
She also remembered something with custard.
Apple crumble? Will that do?
She spent the first fifteen minutes of the match in 1999 at Brownies. The Father of This Lot had to pick her up and moaned all the way home.
Now, with the best will in the world, I could not see Brown Owl letting a nineteen year old into a Brownie meeting (and believe me, she wanted me to ask). However, we seem to have solved the problem - The Fixer went to athletics training after school and the Father of This Lot had to pick her up. He moaned all the way home. So that was alright.
I was wearing jeans and flip-flops. That was easy, since I always wear jeans and flip-flops.
The kids were decked out in United shirts.
We had flags and various other bits of memorabilia hanging out of the windows.
I did not watch the match. I paced about upstairs until five minutes from the end.
Check, check and double check.
The plan seems to have gone a little awry in that, in 1999, the Football Fanatic was not ensconced in a bar in town, surrounded by everyone else who has not gone to Moscow, with the intention of partying all night and turning up sometime tomorrow morning. When mentioned, however, this was classed as 'a mere detail'.
So there you go. I've done everything I can to re-create the day to the best of my ability.
Although how the hell I'm going to fit The Noise into a 0-3 month old sleepsuit and start breastfeeding again I've yet to work out.
UPDATE: I CAN'T SPEAK. I CAN'T BREATHE. I WAS IN THE BACK GARDEN DURING THE PENALTIES. AND I'M BLOODY GLAD IT'S OVER!!
CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE