It was a grey day in October 1998 when I had my first brush with Sir Alex Ferguson. In those days he was just Alex Ferguson, but to me he was already a man whose presence could illuminate any room. It was still the relatively early years of the Premier League and names such as
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My husband was trying, with some urgency, to tell me something. I knew it was important because he had thrown by the wayside the strictest rule of our bilingual household: no mixing English and French. We’d always tried to stay away from Franglish. With its “j’agree”s and “le footing”s, it seemed slightly embarrassing, the labradoodle
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