I followed every stroke, grunt and whack, not on the telly, or even the radio, but whilst reading the Sunday papers. With the hot weather all windows and doors were open and Trisha over the back was prone to scream and shout like a five-year-old, with odd bursts of ‘Come on Andy.’ Well, I’m old enough to remember ‘C’mon Irene,’ sung by a couple of curly-haired down- and- outers wearing overalls. It even went to number 1. The last time I watched...