Dad had to be taken to hospital today, after being found on the floor, (again), this morning. An afternoon at the RAH in Paisley proved that there was little wrong physically, and he was being brought back to the Vale, the local hospital, at some point later this evening for a day or two.

Nothing to be done, I'm afraid, except letting him sleep until the morning.

It was with a heavy heart I went to Hampden tonight, and apart from a no score draw, I got incredibly annoyed by the sectarian singing of the Northern Irish. Are there no Roman Catholics amongst their support? Neil Lennon, a Celtic player, gave up international football because he was getting death threats. It was not the best evening of my life.

Falling out with the RW on my return didn't help me, but that was my fault, and all my positivity went out the window.

In one day. In one fell swoop.

Tomorrow is another day.