WELL yesterday was very much a blue one – but I have a feeling today will be all-white.

I was amazed at just how few people I saw travelling down to Wembley by train on Saturday morning.

The train – which I had expected to be a nightmare – was half-full, and the mile walk down Brent high street was relatively uneventful, but for the dodgy wheel on my suitcase.

It was only after we checked into the hotel at about 1pm that you got a sense of what was to come.

Myself and Liam had walked round to the neighbouring hotel to meet a few of the lads from the MEN, or fraternise with the enemy, depending on how you see it.

A quick beer and a chat later, and we were met on our return to the outside world by a wall of blue shirts. It seemed we had been invaded by City fans, who were covering every inch of space on the west side of town.

It really was quite an impressive sight, until that is, you watched a section of idiots begin to throw cans of beer at cars and buses passing slowly down the high street, who were of a United persuasion.

I dare say the same thing was going on at the opposite side of town, but you do wonder about the mentality of some people, don't you?

Anyhow, it was time to weave through the fans and make our way to Wembley, where sadly, the match itself failed to live up to its billing.

City set themselves up to be hard to beat and United look toothless without Rooney. Scholes deserved his red card, which had been coming for some time, I might add.

Balotelli proved that for all his talent, he's still lacking in the class stakes, but the right side won on the day.

Back at the hotel I was treated to rendition after rendition of 'Blue Moon' outside by single-glazed window, mixed subtly with the screaming of sirens.

But, feeling fresh as a daisy this morning, I'm ready to do it all again. Only this time, it will be Wanderers fans keeping me up past midnight with some celebratory songs.

Who knows, I might just join them...