Been listening to the influence of the Yeoman archetype on the (subconsciously perceived) archetype of the Anglo Saxon (Scott Mannion and Jay Dyer). I don't know about the fancy philosophising (amiable be it when drinking), but all I would say is the longbow two fingers is in the blood, as is the elder's daughter revelling in the big Green T-shirt guy battering the orcs (Dutch in this instance). These kinds of men taught me to sing Bubbles as a young lad while my dad was pulling pints in the Essex village we lived in. Don't know if is the romantic stoicism of the song (and like my dreams they fade and die, I am forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the sky) is connected, but over the last few years it has come in handy.

A Spaniard loved around these parts scored in the 94th minute, and after leaping up and down in a way that isn't becoming, I raise a glass to my dad, who put a hole into the ceiling when Brooking scored in 1980.