We are checking out, perhaps because we can't stand another episode of Wheeler Dealers, a sort of staple diet of hotel room life. It's on now, and I'm lingering in the emptied room for a bit, snow falling in my head.
Of course we could have got kicked out for the row I made last night when Chelsea performed the impossible. I knew I was the only one screaming profanities to start, but in the end the place had quite an atmosphere. I wouldn't say the hotel bar rocked, but that was close as it was ever going to get. That's the thing about a great football match, and that was a great football match, it transports you somewhere else. My memory will be that lingering shot of the visiting Chelsea fans, stuffed way up in the rafters of the Nou Camp, who refused to leave that other place, that and Torres of course. Ten men, Barcelona beaten, just epic.
For a person who doesn't drink I've got one hell of a hangover. Better go and buy that kettle.