I have tremendous host, here in spring-beautiful Upper Austria. A marvellously spacious room, balcony and such hospitality. I should not be surprised (but I am!). Every time I have stayed here I am met by the same polite, genuine friendliness that relaxes me. Wonderful.
The son is a fine musician, a sometime-guitar teacher. Oh, and a Man United fan! Saying that, we get on well together, talk music, genres, but I cannot persuade him to shun the Red Devils and become a Saddler.
Tuesday evening and he mentions that he will be going to his neighbour’s to watch the United v City game (a real derby) and would I like to go. I admit that I am tempted. Walsall are playing at Bradford but that is unlikely to feature on any TV show. But I decline, hopefully gracefully.
He sends his father a text one minute after the game has started: Utd. are one down. I am in bed when he gets back, but meet him later on the following day.
“We lost three to nothing,” he says. “I was angry for one hour after the end of the game. Then not. We did not have a chance. Man City were in, I think you say … a different class …”
What a marvellous attitude. I salute it and him.
He is also willing to take a moment, interrogate his smart-phone (known as “handies” here) to find the Walsall result. I am expecting poor news. But he tells me we won two – nil.
That Craig Westcarr scored both goals.
The rest of the day – needless to say – goes smoothly… except he still will not convert !
Trials and Trails: life and times of a Walsall fan 