I’m sitting on the sofa in my flat on Thursday evening, laughing to myself as I rewatch Ariana DeBose's ‘Angela Bassett did the thing’ BAFTAs rap for the eight-hundredth time in a row when I hear a massive bang from outside followed by chants and cheers from, what I can only presume, a group of rowdy men.
Mere minutes later, police sirens bellow out as the chanting continues to get louder. As an always-on reporter - I like to think I’m perhaps ‘seasoned’ by this point, but I’m sure many will argue otherwise - I am right on the balcony, eying up the going’s-on in case I need to make my colleagues on shift aware. Then I realise something that changes the narrative slightly: It’s match night and Manchester United have just won.
I am one of the lucky souls to live in Old Trafford (or Stretford, depending on who you ask) right near to Manchester United Stadium and Old Trafford Cricket Ground. When there’s a home game, a cricket tournament, or even a Harry Styles gig, I have a front row view of the sea of crowds making their way to and from each of the venues.
