First up at the weekend and decidedly flaky, although it is interesting to look back on events now and to realise that drawing a blank at Norwich was nowhere near as bad a result as it seemed when the full time whistle blew. Of course, I may be going a tiny bit soft in my old age, massaged and mollycoddled by Roman-invested millions as I am, but hindsight and North London comeuppance left me feeling more sanguine than I thought possible at around 2.30pm on Saturday and certainly much less inclined to begrudge AVB and the squad a few days off in sunny Spain. Why so? Well, you only have to look at the non-holidaying mood of some of our rivals to see what I’m getting at…

For example, Harry’s going nowhere nice for at least a fortnight and even if he wanted to sail on down to Monaco, perhaps taking some air and a little cash to open a bank account, he doesn’t exactly look as though he’s up for it, or up for very much at all by way of jollity at the moment. Getting into the holiday spireeet might also be a tad difficult for Arsene too, following a tactical blunder that left most sane Gooners, including my son-in-law, pleading for him to be put on permanent gardening leave - as opposed to a beach where he would only tend to bask in well-past glories, one assumes. Add to this the persistent party-pooping now going on at the court of King Kenny and you soon appreciate why the Scouse icon of yesteryear is a long, long way away from inviting Craig Bellamy and his golf clubs down to the Iberian Coast for a spot of two-iron wielding in the sun.

And to be honest, I think AVB and the boys are best out of Mancunian earshot at this time of year as well. Having muscled themselves to the top of the pile, as per usual in Ferguson’s case and in support of the odds in Mancini’s, it is true to say that Blighty is no place to be in such circumstances for other Premiership clubs, especially when the January transfer window is open and the opportunity still exists for the world’s finest footballers to reportedly beat a path to Old Trafford’s door to play for the greatest club side ever seen in this or any other lifetime, all for a mere pittance and bounteous prestige, or confirm their commitment to a City project that lacks for nothing [should you be looking for an alter-ego to United’s] and provides a trouble-free, Media-friendly option should you wish to avoid the mercenary level that Gary Cahill has so brazenly sunk to by coming to the Bridge.

Indeed, no matter how often these two leaders of the privileged men sat atop the table deny the fact, they know there will always be a steady stream of players linked to their clubs by obsequious hacks who like nothing better than to massage the mindset of Manchester at a time when it is all too obviously the one place nobody really wants to be if you’re in need of sunshine and a bit of a break. Hence, Sir Alex and Roberto play metaphorical ball while AVB and our lot do the same thing for real on a Spanish beach, getting a tan and waiting for what will be [will be] coming through the coldest of our two open windows. Last year, of course, it was Fernando and now, due to circumstances within his control, yet somehow seemingly beyond it, he really does look like an individual needing a few days off.

Personally though, whilst he might be one player you’d begrudge a good time to after the season he’s had to date, I wouldn’t and the reasoning behind my magnanimity is simple. As far as I’m concerned, Torres deserves his holiday and deserves to succeed in a blue shirt. Fernando never hides away and, scoring or not, I have to confess to unqualified enjoyment of the way he plays the game, much as I love a beautiful beach and not Blackpool‘s, a sun-drenched piece of skilful, unexpected, if unfulfilled brilliance, as opposed to the anticipated shower you always have to be prepared for up North, but which never disappoints. His current situation reminds me of a certain Hernan Crespo at his elegant, albeit often barren, best. Yes I admit, those were times that frustrated the hell out of me on occasions, but I miss him now he’s gone, much in the same way as I’ll probably miss our Spaniard should AVB decide enough is enough.

That said, I suppose we will just have to trust in the Boas not giving up on him and pray they mull things over under a sunshade with a drink in hand, for both mutual benefit and for the sake of the team, because it’s not as if he is out there under a cloudless sky working with Luddite Geordie material that’s heading nothing but straight for the bar on arrival, is it? Or indulging an Italian fruitcake who, likely as not, is destined to blow a hotel window or two to smithereens with an outdoor firework display that somehow finds itself indoors. Or can he be said to be like Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, who didn’t need the twin room after all, but who now appreciates just how captains of industry and of Russia gain, for some people who don’t know what they‘re doing,, status far above and beyond the call of duty. Nor also, it should go without saying, is he Craig Bellamy, who will pitch into any conversation about JT at the drop of a bad lie, followed swiftly by you into rough beside any golf hole you care to choose without even the slightest sideways furtive glance to check who is watching..

In short, here’s hoping that a few restful days on holiday have the desired effect on the needy, with all and sundry in the squad reaching the same conclusion I have about the decision-making of our manager and his handling of Fernando Torres. After all… what’s not to like about him, both on and off the pitch?

Fernando never hides away and, scoring or not, I have to confess to unqualified enjoyment of the way he plays the game, much as I love a beautiful beach and not Blackpool‘s, a sun-drenched piece of skilful, unexpected, if unfulfilled brilliance, as opposed to the anticipated shower you always have to be prepared for up North, but which never disappoints. His current situation reminds me of a certain Hernan Crespo at his elegant, albeit often barren, best. Yes I admit, those were times that frustrated the hell out of me on occasions, but I miss him now he’s gone, much in the same way as I’ll probably miss our Spaniard should AVB decide enough is enough.

Not sure Fernando has been playing in a way that can be compared to a beautiful beach. Think that's stretching it somewhat. I know what you mean but I think you're being kind. Very kind.

As for Crespo, I don't remember any barren runs. His ratio of goals-per-minutes was astonishing. He had a sure touch in front of goal, he played with passion, he scored glorious goals, and there was never doubting his quality.

Beautifully written as usual.