retiredmartin

January 2026. Sheffield.

Back home in Sheffield on Saturday lunchtime, I hid under the covers avoiding the Manchester derby. Unless I’m physically at the match, I have to avoid the score till the final whistle and last VAR review.

“Ooh, are City losing ?” asks Mrs RM. All her friends are United supporting glory hunters, unlike genuine City fans like me.

20 minutes later, it’s all over and we’ve kept the Reds manager in a job for at least a week. I need a pint.

Ah, Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone etc etc.

Blimey, it was great, a deceptively easy drinking 6% IPA. Feel better already, and we’ve an easy game coming up in Norway.

Someone who shan’t be named dissed the beer in the KIT last week, it’s a free country, but this was a 4.

I resisted the stodge,

and with a full front bar took a seat in the conservatory with the youngsters who seem to prefer the trad Sheffield boozers to the modern bars.

Sadly, I missed Will by about 10 minutes. He never stops.