A Messi freekick, freezing Lyon and a pen – tales of a European sojourn

A pen. Beautiful, granted, but still just a pen. A Cartier: shiny, a little bit heavier than a biro and emblazoned with the Milan club crest.┬áBut still just a pen - the opening lines of Andrea Pirlo's autobiography was stuck inside my head as I examined my pen. It wasn't a Cartier. I never looked... Continue Reading →

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