I've made a spur of the moment decision and I'm regretting it.
I've driven 200 miles off route to collect my son from university at Lancaster in the north west of England to support Millwall (my football/soccer team) on the road at Hartlepool up in the north east of England. It's half time, we are losing 2-0, we just aren't at the races, and the pleasant spring sunshine is nowhere near cheering me up, or the other 150 Millwall who have made the long trip from South London.
Half an hour later our substitute striker Super Neil Harris smashes in the winner, and his hat-trick goal, and your correspondent, and the other 150 Millwall, are indulging in one of those undignified, but wholly justified lunatic celebrations when your team comes back from the dead.
What an absolutely brilliant decision I tell myself.
It's Monday afternoon, my son is home from uni, and I still haven't wiped the smile off my face.
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