Okay, so here's where I have to admit that I know absolutely nothing about football. When I was of an age to play it incessantly, I soon found that it wasn't meant for people of my size or clumsiness, and was mainly used by the popular kids as a way to humiliate the ones who weren't popular. I vastly preferred hiding in the corner with a book. Matt Busby, though, was a long way before my time. He played the game before the second world war (and was a PT instructor during it), but that's not what he's known for. He's famous because he managed Manchester United in the 50's and 60's, when they had a habit of winning rather a lot - and because much of his most famous team died in a terrible plane crash at Munich in 1958.
So why am I wittering on about him? Because he died exactly twenty years ago today. Do you remember where you were back then? I don't. At least not exactly.
But what would happen if you found yourself back in 1994 all of a sudden, along with everyone else on the planet? That's the subject of my next novel, Twenty Years Ago Today.
More fun from 1994 tomorrow!