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November 29, 2012 by John Buckley
“On your own, on your own”, or some other stadium echo floated through my bones. As the two tickets I had bought, in hope rather then concrete knowing, clung in the pocket beside my headphones. Sure me and my shadow are having great craic, aren’t we? Personifying a shadow, careful now. Is it me or them who are weird? Looking at me like I’ve something manky in my beard. Growing that seed, the one that’s planted in our minds, if you’re cheering on the boys in blue it better be part of a group, minimum two. So here’s the choice man, while trying to retain a bit of self and calm. You either succumb to the terrace calls or grow a pair of giant balls. “Happiness is best when shared” but as long as it’s someone who actually cares. Well I fucking care, and although I do wish right now to have someone to share the care and sit in my spare chair…. “On my own, on my own, on my own”. Why stop the life I want to have waiting on someone else to show me how to cultivate my own patch. Heading to the match? Sure me and my shadow will go.