On moonlit nights we still often get together. We usually meet on the football pitch, after a match, because it’s quiet, no one about. That’s how foxes and ghosts like it. It’s only when all of us are together again that I can really believe it happened, that we really did make not just one but two impossible dreams come true.

I have to pinch myself – sometimes even then – to believe it happened. But I was there. I saw it all with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears, smelt it with my own nose.

Honest. Cub’s honour. Dib, dib, dib!