Miriam Lordkeeps track of Taoiseach Bertie Ahern as he makes another foray into Manchester for soccer and a Sunday summit
Bertie rolled his eyes and slowly sucked in his breath, conspicuously sheltering under a very dark cloud. He was like a man who had forgotten his painkillers, and now the twinges were setting in.
He sighed and shook his head sadly. "That's one disaster after the other," said Bertie, wincing. Lest there be any confusion, the Taoiseach was talking about football.
Although you wouldn't know with him. He might just have been sending out a message about his current political standing.
Bertie was in Manchester for a summit meeting with prime minister Gordon Brown. In football parlance, this was a top of the table tie.
The venue was Manchester airport and the meeting lasted about three-quarters of an hour before Gordon and Bertie were conveyed at high speed and under police escort to see a football match.
No big deal to the Taoiseach. It's not the first time he's been bussed around Manchester. Although this time around, he'll have no problem finding people to attest to the fact that he was in town.
Take your pick, your lordships: prime minister Brown or Bobby Charlton? Things are different now though. Back in 1994, when he travelled to Manchester to see a game at Old Trafford, he came home with an envelope stuffed full of £50 notes and a severe dose of amnesia. But he wasn't the Taoiseach then. He was just minister for finance.
Yesterday, despite attending a match and making a speech afterwards at the Irish World Heritage Centre in Cheetham Hill, he returned to Ireland with one arm as long as the other.
"Will you be making a presentation to Bertie?" we asked the chairman of the Heritage Centre. "Not this time," he replied.
He was not to know how relieved his VIP guest would have been by this news.
But maybe he knew already. Leaving Manchester these days in anything other than the clothes he stands up in is not a smart thing for Bertie to do. So he didn't get as much as a cup of tea, in case anyone is asking.
There was lunch, though, above in the Manchester United directors' box, with the owners of the club and Bobby Charlton. All very rich men. Not to mention the players on the pitch - worth millions.
Nobody offered the Taoiseach tuppence.
His visit to Old Trafford was private. He was whisked through the corporate entrance with Gordon Brown, so there was no time for the Manchester United mad Taoiseach to pay his respects at the Munich Clock at the East Stand. The main reason the two prime ministers were in Manchester was to mark the 50th anniversary of the Munich air crash, when 23 people perished, eight of them Manchester United players.
They were the Busby Babes, Dublin's Liam Whelan among them.
When the Taoiseach is not being a true blue, he is an ardent red. Yesterday, he was in red mode. But the day belonged to the true blues. For once, Bertie could not profess to be a standardbearer. In this local soccer derby, Manchester City shocked their hosts by winning the match. Two goals to one.
This was the first time they won at Old Trafford in 34 years. A famous victory for the boys in blue, and Bertie couldn't celebrate it.
Still, at least there was some consolation for him. Back home, Forpadydeplasterer won at Leopardstown. (To be more precise, the horse named after Bertie's pub loan pal romped home. Thus, bringing thoughts of dig-outs back to mind in Dublin, while remembrance of whip arounds past won the day across the water in Manchester.)
After the game, the Taoiseach visited the Heritage Centre just outside the city centre. This would be his first and only meeting of the day with the media. The centre is in a very old building that once housed the Royal British Legion. It was officially opened in 1986 by then minister for foreign affairs, Peter Barry. A second plaque commemorates the day the Irish minister for trade and tourism opened the shop and travel centre 10 years later - one Enda Kenny.
Plans are well advanced for a new Irish World Heritage Centre, which will be built on an 11-acre site with a hotel, museum, conference centre and hotel. The existing building is like something from a different age. It's not just the fixtures and fittings, but the sense of clinging to an older Ireland which is all but gone from the homeland.
The floor in the entrance hall is made from smooth slabs of Connemara marble. The floor in the dining room is laid in timber taken from the Lancashire mill where Michael Davitt lost his arm in 1857. The shop does a roaring trade in red lemonade, Barrys tea, Tayto crisps, Odlums flour and Chef brown sauce. They can hardly keep up with the demand for the white pudding.
It seems quaint and anachronistic, yet it is also a very important community resource. Fifteen different nationalities use the centre, and it is an important touchstone for those people who left Ireland many year ago and didn't make it big. Into this interesting mix stepped the Taoiseach yesterday. Nobody in the place could vote for him. Some of the younger people didn't know who he was.
But when Bertie arrived, with the British ambassador in tow, you could feel the whole place lift with is presence. Elderly men and women vied to be at his side. One young fella with a thick Lancashire accent, pushed his Mam forward and she posed shyly for a photo with Bertie, who slipped an arm around her waist.
"You never lost the accent, did ya!" Her eyes sparkled. "Up the Dubs!" said Blue Bertie as he left, not Red Ahern anymore.