In the current climate of Tory Narnia, wherein the grey-skull right-wing witch of Universal Callousness defends dogmatic cruelty by chillingly spouting bogus figures, like a terrifying echo from World history, inevitably our minds need some memory to jemmy us out of our slough of despond. Like the recent Indian Summers in the season of greyness and windy destruction, my mind was easily drawn back to earlier in this godforsaken year to Sheffield, England and a weekend of camaraderie and respectful competition called The Anglo-Galician Cup. This year I was fortunate enough to be invited to witness this brilliant event, and it just so happened that it was the tenth anniversary of the event, so emotions were running high.
