This time yesterday I was getting a bit fretful about last evening`s encounter between a resurgent Wigan Athletic and a `nothing to play for` Swansea City, the result of which could have had an effect on the relegation finale of the Premier League.   A Wigan win and a crescendo of bum squeaking would follow from Newcastle to Norwich, Birmingham, Fulham and even the branch line of Southampton, whereas a win for Swansea would allow breathing to become more easy for us Saints fans.   In the event, Swansea won 3-2, cue sighs of relief except in Wigan whose chances of survival now appear slim.

So I went to bed a little happier than might have been the case, only to wake up to the news that, at long last, the glowering presence of `Sir` Alex Ferguson will be no more on the touchlines of the land.   After 26 years and 38 trophies he has decided to step aside as Manchester United manager, take his place on the board and bring all his qualities of diplomacy and restraint to a new role as club `ambassador.`  Not sure you could make it up.

Now, of course, one has to acknowledge his record in producing all those trophies over all those years and in a sense I have no quarrel with what he has achieved.   But it is the manner in which those achievements have been reached which has always irked.   His `philosophy` of management by rant, hair drier and pugnacious aggression has not been one to encourage any feelings of warmth towards Old Trafford.   

And when the sycophantic fawnings over Ferguson have died down, we are simply left with yet another dinosaur shuffling off to the swamp.  I wish him no ill in his overdue retirement but I just know that life will be that much more tolerable now that he has decided to go.

So, in the course of half a day, any lingering concerns about Southampton`s survival have, thanks to Wigan`s defensive ineptitude, largely disappeared and Ferguson finally leaving the field of play have between them conspired to bring relief all round.   What a difference a day makes.