At 11.30pm I bumped into Porthmadog man about town Tommie Collins under the monstrous statue of Alexander the Great (see above) and said I thought we’d played well.

A not untypical torrent of, er, extreme disagreement came back my way and Tommie – ruddy about the face – got even ruddier it seemed in the dark, and strode off. Nice off-pink jacket by the way, Mr Collins, where can I get one?

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I was. Perhaps we were both right.

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