I too can see that day, numbersix. I can hear the wistful Celtic songs warning of an impending storm in the Lavapies area; can see the Cuban smoke rings rising, warning that another overdraft limit is about to be breached and can taste the magical red syrup of the North as it slides down the throat, making those peanuts seem just a little bit more edible. Until that day, we'll just have to make hay while the sun shines. Good to hear from you again, Hansard and thanks for the kind words - it's good to be back though I feel somewhat fraudulent as I am evidently no longer overseas. I was fortunate enough to see the game in a lovely Spanish owned establishment in Kingston with some of the Spanish teachers from school. A great spread of tortilla, chorizo, jamon and manchego was washed down with...err...London Pride. 4-1 didn't flatter Spain and at long last they have a pair of strikers who know their way around a six yard box. This really could be their year but, as a Manchester City fan, you'd expect a heavy dose of naive and ultimately foolish optimism, I suspect. My beloved City seem to have turned into Chelsea-lite and so I have fled gleefully into hgxiv's arms at AFC Wimbledon, where glamorous awaydays in Slough are now my much more wholesome staple. Take care and every good wish to you and yours.