I have a wonderful gift; I can get sunburnt in just about any light unless I’m really very careful.

I tend to be careful when in hot climates; it’s only sensible. So I’ve been in Egypt in high summer and not gotten burnt. I’ve been in Morocco and only gotten a mild bit of colour. Ditto Madeira. When it’s more local, though, I tend to be less sensible, out of not noticing that the sun is bright enough. I’ve been painfully (and, according to TLG, hilariously) burnt in Jersey. Back in the day, I was really painfully burnt in Donegall. I’ve recently gotten a bit burnt after waling round Belfast for an hour. And only yesterday, I added Monaghan to the list of places where I’ve gotten a little bit of skin damage.

At the same time, I broke out some mementos from a little trip to Croke in 1989; a few Antrim keepsakes from the last time they were in any sort of a final. Yes, then it was hurling, and yesterday it was football, but that’s not the point.

They were good, for a team that hasn’t been in a final for decades. And considering that they were playing the All-Ireland champions. And they could walk out with their heads held high, because they drew in the second half. Got massacred in the first, but that’s not the point, is it…