On the ferry to Dublin a few years ago. Liverpool Football club were playing, but don't ask me who ( someone, somewhere !), and the ferry was full of red shirted supporters, Dads, daughters, mates. Their red bloomed all over the place, spreading out across bagsied window seats, pulsing through the aisles of the duty free, clotting up the edges of the bar. I was on my own, so had all the time to kill, and read, mostly, but did do this sketch of one of them, passed out on a table in the lounge.
Eventually his mates came and roused him, and they all sat arguing penalties and injuries, until we shouldered our way, juddering, into Dublin harbour.