So, if you remember, I had been roped into helping out with the under-12 girls Gaelic team and, surprisingly, I was enjoying my sojourn as a coach; up until the tournament, that is. I’ll get to that shortly.

My fellow coach, Graham, was foisted on me at the same time as I was foisted on him; his daughter being in the same class as Imogen.

Budgie, the club fixer, consecrated the reluctant marriage, and knew we would have no choice but to make it work. Only thing was, Graham knew less about GAA than I did.

I didn’t like Graham when I first saw him in the village: a posh southerner, married to a girl from here, who had made a few bob in London and bought a swanky house.

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Because I was a blow-in before him, I construed a moral high ground and was withering in my observations of his behaviour.

Wearing clothes that he was too........

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