After the war memorial, I visited StanleyâÂÂs football pitch, which was occupied by grazing geese as big as Andy Reid.
Then the office of Penguin News, the newspaper of The Falklands. Bizarrely, a football story was front page news.
Wayne Clement, one of the islandsâ most promising players, had tripped in a hole on the pitch and broken his leg in three places, dislocating his foot too.
The hospital on the islands doesnâÂÂt deal with that type of injury, so he went by air ambulance to Chile where his leg was re-set. Islanders â or Bennies or Kelpers as they are called â are worried that he wonâÂÂt be back in time to represent the Falklands in the Small Island games next year.
Dr Prado, the bone specialist in Chile, said that if the accident had not happened on a Friday the delay in getting him to the clinic could have meant he would never have played again.
I also visited Globe Tavern, one of eight or nine pubs in Stanley. Many of the British forces at Mount Pleasant have drunk in there and the roof is covered in union flags with the names of the soldiers marked on them.
Flags adorn the Globe Tavern
IâÂÂd missed a United game being televised by a day, but was told about an islander called Steve who was named after Steve Coppell. Coppell is one of the brightest men in football. IâÂÂve interviewed him a few times and heâÂÂs come closer to articulating what it feels like to make a debut in front of 50,000 than most footballers.
âÂÂMy heart was jumping out of my chest and IlâÂÂve never had another experience like it,â Coppell said. âÂÂI wasnâÂÂt running; I was floating across the grass. Words do not do the experience justice; it was a drug-like euphoric trance. IâÂÂve had a few operations, and it was like that little pleasant stage after the anaesthetic. Only multiplied by a hundred.âÂÂ
In the pub, I got speaking to Don, 82, who had been a driver to the islandâÂÂs governor when the Argentinian troops invaded. As we spoke, two Tornados did a low-level fly past before shooting almost vertically upwards. You could literally feel the tremendous noise they made in your bones.
âÂÂThatâÂÂs to remind any visiting Argies that weâÂÂre not asleep,â Don said. âÂÂSome of them come by ship and refuse to present their passports because they claim they are still in Argentina.âÂÂ
Along with the 30 or so British marines in Stanley in 1982, they had to surrender. ItâÂÂs a tenuous thought, but itâÂÂs good job Paddy Crerand wasnâÂÂt the governor.
For one, he would have kicked the âÂÂThatcher Driveâ signs and, for two, I reckon he would have fancied his chances against 9,000 Argentinians - partly out of revenge for Estudiantes beating United in 1968.
Not that Paddy would ever work for the British government. In Tokyo, we were both interviewed by a Japanese journalist who is writing a book on English football.
Crerand went first and within five minutes he was telling the poor girl about Irish politics. She was too polite to stop him.
âÂÂPaddy, sheâÂÂs writing a book on English football, not internment,â I interjected.
And IâÂÂll never forget the image of him on the same trip struggling to work out a translation machine.
The idea is that you wear headphones and click to the language of your choice as the various players and coaches spoke in their own language. Thus you could hear Ferguson in Spanish or Japanese as his words were immediately translated.
"I'll be answering the next question in Swahili"
Crerand, who only briefly owned a mobile phone before throwing it in the River Mersey because âÂÂit was driving me crackers,â tried to wear his on his arm before I fixed it on his ear. Except he fiddled with the switch.
âÂÂThe managerâÂÂs speaking in Spanish,â he whispered, nodding approvingly as Sir Alex spoke, âÂÂvery clever man, the manager.âÂÂ
âÂÂHeâÂÂs speaking in English, Pat,â you are listening to the Spanish translator.â I wish I hadnâÂÂt set him straight.
Another time, a Japanese fan presented him with a picture of him playing. HeâÂÂd never seen it before and was visibly moved. Out of courtesy, he was wished a safe journey back to Manchester.
âÂÂNo, I wish I had a Tardis which could transport me back to Sale,â he replied crossly.
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