I Broke My Golden Rule

Everton a

17^th of October, 2020.

I am never going to celebrate a goal again – having broken my golden rule of not looking to see if a linesman had put his flag up, after the ball had hit the net. Jordan Henderson’s goal should have stood – end of story.

After I’d got to Dave’s; I took the opportunity of weighing myself; 12 stone 9 the scales revealed. Not too bad I gauged, for a 6 foot 4 man. That’s not much – Carly said, in so many words, as I thought of all the very quick walking I’d done in the week, in work!

I got the soft sweets – not that I intended to eat them as I’ve been getting a tad of toothache – all them biscuits and chocolate I eat have come back to bite me on the gums, so I’m taking it easy with my sugar content. The game was going to be more than enough of a gob filler to get me to love the game again – like the lushiest piece of Mint Aero chocolate.

Liverpool were coming into the 237^th Merseyside Derby on the back of a 7-2 loss at Villa, and it could have been more as I listened to nearly every minute. A response was required – a fighting one and within seconds the reds had set out a marker with swift, slick, attacks, with first time passes. I had not seen us play with such verve in a long while.

With one such attack the ball landed at Mane’s right foot and he almost flicked the ball into the roof of Pickford’s net to make it 1-0 after only about 3 minutes. This set the trend for what would be one of the most dramatic Derbies in a while.

I was off my seat and running towards the large clock in celebration! If I’d fallen out of love with my team; there they were again, showing me why I’d loved them for at least 40 years, and counting. I shouted some nice complimentary rude words towards the Everton bench as I thought about them being top of the League after 4 games; with a perfect start.

Liverpool were on top and should and could have put the game to bed in the first half an hour as Salah failed to get any venom on two shots with his right foot after he had wriggled his way into the 6 – yard box. It was criminal but that’s Mo; you’ve got to take him as he is. Also, Mane blazed wide as Thiago thumped a free-kick in on goal.

Early doors, Virgil van Dijk went for a ball in the left corner of Pickford’s 6 – yard box and got clattered by the England keeper. It wasn’t intentional, I’m sure but Virg stayed down for a little while and then had to go off. We were both worried as Virgil has been a rock at the back since his debut in 2018. He is simply irreplaceable.

Gomes came on to partner Joel Matip and as these two are both off the pace and off form and also made of glass, our defensive vulnerability will become a big problem – over the coming 9 – months, as that is as long as Virgil will be out for, after suffering an ACL injury to his knee…

Everton were hardly in the game but after breaking our dangerously exposed high line, with one pass, which resulted in a corner, they scored from the set-piece, with a close- range header. Don’t ask me to tell you who scored – it was irrelevant. I was just gutted we’d conceded.

So, 1-1 at the break. More tea made by Dave’s fair hand as Carly basked in the rarity of having a weekend off and they were going to make the most of it by having a game of bowls and just happen to bump into their mates – social distanced of course, with a beer or two, with 8 – year old baby Kelsey in tow, as she never leaves Dave’s side.

More of the same fare in the second period, with me actually being retro and watching an individual for a change, instead of the ball. I could not have picked a better player as Thiago was so neat in possession and always tried a forward pass with such ease that he carried a conductor’s baton in the back of his shorts pocket like girls carry their mobiles in the back of their jeans. ‘Crouch’, said Dave, ‘he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?’ said Dave, laughing as I drooled over another of Thiago’s passes who was playing like Xabi Alonsoesque – there can be no greater compliment. Years ago, when I used to go the match, me and this lad called Martin, would both pick separate players to watch, before going into the ground and I used to enjoy it – as though I was a scout or something. Didi Hamman was one I recall watching – another excellent reds midfielder, circa Treble 2001 season.

We wanted a win. Desperate for it as Mo again had a thunderous shot saved by Pickford who was Everton’s man of the moment. However, with about 80 minutes on the clock, at a silent Goodison, Mo hit the sweetest of first – time shots, into the bottom right – hand corner of Pickford’s net that signaled his 100^th Liverpool goal. It should have been the winner – chicken dinner.

The reds had further attempts to seal the deal, but Pickford got in the way. Then the blues went up field, crossed from our right and then Calvin-Lewin, headed into the bottom right-hand corner of Adrian’s goal to make it 2-2. Sickening. For all our attacking play, we could not slam the door shut tightly at the back. It is going to come back on the bum and bite us. Mark my words.

Liverpool though gained a smidge of an advantage as Richarlison, went in on Thiago and nearly broke his leg in a robust, typical vicious Derby challenge which has been seen many times over the years in these fiercely competitive encounters where no love is lost between the Stanley Park neighbours. The Brazilian got a red card as Jota had come on for Bobby Firmino with Klopp intent on winning the game.

Thiago played a bind, almost no look pass inside the right of the Blues area and Mane was onto it in a flash and on the same wavelength was Henderson, who deftly stroked the ball into the bottom left-hand corner of Pickford’s net to make it 3-2. I jumped off the sofa and celebrated with all my heart – just knowing it was the winner and that it had been a well – crafted goal. All three of us thought it – convinced it was, so much so that I pleaded with the reds to just hold it for the next vital few seconds. However, within moments I was throwing my glasses onto the floor in shock, as I took in the fact that VAR had mysteriously ruled the goal out for ‘Offside’….I could not believe it. No wonder I said that I will never celebrate a goal again. Not for at least two minutes. VAR has killed the game when it should have improved it.

However, much we can go on about it – the result of the game is not going to change now. There was still the rest of the weekend to have to chill in. Just like us, Liverpool had to take their medicine and move on – at a safe distance in these times when the country is probably going to go into ‘Lockdown’ again, unless VAR intervenes that is.

19/10/20

1283

Half-full glass.

Chelsea away

20^th September, 2020.

Davie met me at the door, wearing that green/blue away top. I have to say, it looked impressive – ‘I like the feel of it, Crocuh’ he later said, as I too felt it, like Pete feeling those oven gloves, Mike was wearing in ‘Gavin & Stacey’.

Deano was also there and before a ball was kicked, I went into the kitchen to see Carly. Within a moment I had bowed my head and showed her the scar which I had incurred upon myself on the previous Sunday, after I had missed the bottom step of my stairs, crashed into the side of my dad’s cabinet and lay on the floor – with blood coming out of my thick head.

She said that it looked nasty but that the scar was healing. With Carly being in the medical profession – looking after Dave she could have said was a full-time job, never mind the 3 girls, as she looks after old people, which I’m fast becoming! Like I said to her, I was quite concerned that I might have to go to hospital and have stitches but just thank God I did not; instead lobbing a towel on the spot and somehow stopping the bleeding. It was not the first time I had maimed myself in the last few years but that is another story.

She told me that it would be pointless going to the hospital now anyway as Tom (her younger brother) had a piece of glass in his neck and that he was told it was too late, three days after the event to have gone to the Gwent. ‘You won’t see it in your hair’ she reassuringly said. I was just glad I still had hair at my age and that it had not gone grey (yes boys – that Grecian 2000 is working wonders!).

Before I could say my usual opening line, ‘What’s the team?’, the boys told me that Fabinho was in at centre-half as guess what, both Joe Gomes and Joel Matip were injured. That just brought into sharp focus, like that the fragility of my dad’s cabinet and all his buses crashing down, about the flimsy defensive strength of Liverpool’s squad. Me and Davie both concurred many times during the game on that subject. Hopefully Klopp has been thinking on the same wave-length. For the last two seasons we have got away with either Matip or Gomes being crocked as they both covered each other’s absence – our luck may have run out this time.

We all agreed that if we did sign another centre-half then that would make our squad complete – especially as we had been more than delighted with the two signings within the last two days of Thiago Alcantara – a midfielder who can tackle and pass and create, and also Diogo Jota – a winger/forward who can slot into the front three. Excited – you bet! This with the addition of the Greek – ‘Taxi’ something or other, then we were pleased.

As for the game in prospect, with Davie now putting chicken crisps into the bowl as I opened-up our fav chewy refresher sweets, it was a case of hoping that we defended better against Chelsea than we had at Anfield, on the opening day of the season against Leeds where we conceded 3 goals and just about scraped to a 4-3 win thanks to a Mo Salah hat-trick – who looked on fire.

Within ten minutes of this game though, Davie was losing his patience and urging the reds to attack and step it up as an ultra- defensive Chelsea were content to sit back – at home mind and try and hit us on the break through their new boys Harvetz and Werner. I was just glad that we looked a lot more tighter than we had been the previous week as we probed for an opening with Mane and Mo trying to work their magic, as the middle three of Hendo, Gini and Keita worked the ball to the flanks as much as possible with Thiago on the bench and Jota not being able to be considered after his £40 million move from Wolves; as he was not registered in time.

It was tight but after much sighing and urging from Davie and no mention of ‘Dream Team’s’ as I’m now doing one in work, after me castigating the other 2 for the last 3 seasons, and saying there is only one ‘Dream Team’ – ‘Liverpool’, just a minute from the break Hendo played a quick ball with his left-foot, from the edge of the area, straight down the middle for an ‘El Lurkio’ Mane to run onto and out – pace Christensen. The centre-half was forced to almost rugby-tackle Sadio to the ground as Kepa came out of his goal to try and clear the danger.

‘RED CARD!!’ shouted Deano, so that the people down the bottom of the street could hear. It was a yellow at first and a free-kick but the ref must also have heard Deano and looked at the VAR monitor and over-turned his original decision. It was a red. The incident reminded me of the one versus Man City away in 2018/19 when Sadio was in a similar position and clattered into their keeper – unintentionally, and got sent-off. Maybe there is karma afterall. Trent put the resultant free-kick wide of Kepa’s right-post as the whistle blew.

Time for more tea.

I put Kayla’s card onto one of the sides and later on Davie would point out to her that fact, along with ‘Uncle Deano’s. It was a scary thought that their eldest was going to be 15 in a few days’ time. Just where had the years gone? Before I’d entered chez Wheastone, I’d called out to ‘Baby Kelsey’ who was in the park opposite, resplendent in her Liverpool kit and not glued to her or Davie’s mobile – that was refreshing. She is nearing 8 and her smile lights-up the room. It’s a real family – my second one.

‘Oh, he’s warming-up’ Davie said, as the bald Thiago was put through his paces. He did not look too much taller than Davie as it goes. I think he has a tad more ability than Davie may have had though! So, Hendo was off and Thiago was on. Hendo though was injured. He drives the team and had pressed high on occasions in the first half. Not for nothing was he the current Footballer of the Year – not that he would say that, being the humble bloke that he is.

Davie had got his wish. The reds had stepped-it up. On the front foot as they swarmed around Chelsea’s goal to the left of the screen. Biting into tackles and sure enough, thanks to an intricate triangular move which involved Mo passing inside to Bobby, on our right, and then Bobby providing a wicked cross into the 6 – yard box, there was Sadio to fly an arrowed header straight into the top corner of Kepa’s right-hand side netting to give us a crucial, crucial lead.

Arms raised aloft as I sat on the sofa and shouted ‘YES’ in a really annoying, delirious way. Our one – man advantage had put paid to Chelsea’s defensive stance, in one fell swoop.

We were buzzing and within a blink of an eye, it was 2-0. Mane lost the ball on the left edge of the area and then, annoyed with himself, chased Kepa down as he tried to kick it away. The ball only fell to Mane, who turned sharply to fire in a right-footed low effort, to ensure the ball hit the bottom right-hand net of Kepa’s goal. You could not have made it up!

Chelsea were reeling as Thiago was enjoying himself, flicking controlled passes forward all the time, probing for openings, like a conductor, minus his baton. He was fitting in snugly like a glove even being called, ‘Alonso’ by Davie. ‘Now hang-on mate’ I said to Davie, ‘don’t put that pressure on him yet’ as we purred at his Xabi like cameo, after our own much – loved Spanish maestro of yester-year, 2005 vintage. He is akin to him though, the new man.

‘We haven’t won it yet!’ Davie said, as 70 minutes passed, echoing my oft words and he was right too as from out of the blue, Chelsea got a potential ‘Get out of jail’ card as Thiago supposedly fouled one of their players and conceded a penalty which we were all shaking our heads at.

‘This is the last thing we want, to let them back in the game’ Deano sagely said.

Don’t ask me who took it but all I know is that Alisson put down his long cigar he’d been smoking for virtually all game and dived down to his left post to palm the ball away as Virgil smacked away the re-bound in a fashion, he should have dealt with Leeds second goal the previous week. From that moment on the ref may as well have blown-up.

It was a class or even, glass, performance from the reds and we were more than happy with the win. Deano summed it up when he said, ‘I said to Dave yesterday that I’d be settle for a draw’. So, would I have before the game.

As I left, I actually felt quite happy within myself for the first time in a while – it could not last of course but at least I felt like that, as I looked forward to being with these special people again; maybe my glass was half full for a change…

21.9.20

1607

My Mothers Land.

Community Shield: Arsenal.

29^th of August, 2020.

Under the circumstances I could not have wished for a better spec; right in front of the TV screen.

I thought – which was my first mistake, that this game was going to be played on the following day. Wrong. Having booked the room in ‘The Twelve Knights’ and subsequently tried to cancel, I was going to make the most of my time.

Getting-up earlyish, I got a grandstand spot in ‘Remos’. Right in front of the café, away from the blustery wind and in front of me lay Aberavon’s long sandy beach. With a crossword open and the sun shining – it was perfect. Already, justifying my decision to come to my ‘bolt-hole’.

I whiled away a few hours there, getting a re-fill, which I had to queue-up for – socially distancing of course – the new watch-word. Glad that I’d claimed my superb seat earlier as costumed cyclists of all colours, descended like a small army – invading the place, chatting about very steep hills and seeing some of their contingent, very conveniently having to stop, half-way up, to take a ‘phone call’. Yeah, right, was their attitude as they speculated as to the validity of the stoppage!

The two tables either side of me were occupied by different people at various times as I almost claimed my seat as my own, like my spot on my sofa at home – woe betide any visitor who plonks their bum down on it (unless it was my late cat – she could get away with murder!!).

One of the ladies, to the left of me observed, ‘It’s like being on a balcony cabin’.

Yes, I concurred, turning my seat straight onto face the ever – expanding sandy beach, as the water receded. She then went onto say, ‘When I told my son we were at Remos, he was gutted’, telling me that her son was in sunny Spain, having paid a grand to suffer stifling, scorching, sweaty, prickly heat.

‘He wanted to be here’ she laughed, in evident admiration of the place which was not far from their house in ‘Cwmavon’ not ‘Carmathen’ which was well to the west. Who could blame her son? This fact had further vindicated my choice to get-away on a very short ‘stay-cation’ – another watch word which has entered the lexicon, due to the catalyst of the previously un-forseen, Covid – 19, a term which none of us heard about last year but will never forget. The added bonus was that being in Aberavon, I would not have to self-isolate much more than I was – as this was almost self-isolation of my own choosing.

So, having finally managed to get off my seat, very, very reluctantly, for if there was no Liverpool to watch then the chances were, I’d have got two more pots of tea and stayed there until the early evening; it was that chillaxing. I did though walk along the beach and then found myself in the equally enticing ‘Franco’s’ owned by the same people and delighted in eating a pie which my stomach is pining for now as much as a lover’s touch, so is it no wonder that the first opportunity I get; I’m going back there! Steak Ale and cheese and the most – crispiest chips you’ll ever eat, rounded off with the added bonus of a boat of gravy – what more could I ask for? Well worth every penny and set me-up for the rest of the day.

So, there I was, at my digs. Pint in hand. Liverpool lined-up in front of my eyes, at an empty Wembley, for the Charity – no Community Shield these days. It made a welcome change to be there as actual League Champions; yes, that’s right, they had finally done it, after 30 – years; won the Title – our Holy Grail. It was a strong line-up to face FA Cup winners Arsenal. The only surprise was the inclusion of Welshman, Neco Williams, for Trent at right-back. Other than that, it was the usual suspects, with Ali in goal, Virg and Gomes and Andy Robbo. Fabs, Milly and Gini were in the middle with Mo, Mane and Bobby up top.

Liverpool started slowly but I really thought that Virg had opened the scoring with a typical header but it was ruled-out. ‘Offside mate’ I heard someone say from another part of the room, after I had banged my fist down on the comfy army chair that I was sitting on. I was embarrassed that I had celebrated too soon. I felt on my own but I wasn’t really as Deano and Johnny had messaged me. It felt strange not being with the lads.

Arsenal took a grip on the game and soon scored. A cracker-jack of a goal too. That’s it with Arsenal. They play tidy, attractive football and I just can’t hate them – not like United, I mean, I even got over that Friday night in ’89 and it was just the quality of their attacking flair, with the likes of Bergkamp and Henry. Fabulous to watch. And this time it was Aubameyang who almost curled the ball into the bottom left-hand corner of Ali’s net, to score a worthy winner of any game.

Liverpool though managed to survive a few scares which should have resulted in Arsenal going at least 2-0 up. We seemed to be over-run in the middle and Klopp made a few subs and tactical changes with Gomes dropping to right-back and Keita coming on with Minamino. We looked better for it and took an ominous grip on the game in the second period, hardly letting Arsenal out of their own half. It was more like the Liverpool we had become accustomed to seeing over the last two years.

A swift move resulted in Mo getting some space inside the area and before we knew it, the ball was in the top left-hand corner of Leno’s net! Dare I celebrate I thought but it was a goal, all day long. It came from Mini – his first for the club and he’d been sharp during pre-season. ‘It’s not offside, is it?’ I sort of shouted so that the anti – Liverpool Brigade could hopefully just about hear me.

Really, Liverpool should have won the game in the intervening period when their tails were up but failed to put any of their chances away as young Rhian Brewster had come on with only a minute to go. He had been quite prolific on – loan at Swansea last season and had impressed one of the fella’s who I had talked to earlier, who was a ‘Jack’ Season Ticket holder. My view is that he should stay at Anfield – just to let the front 3 know that someone else is eagerly breathing down their necks.

By this time, I had been joined by a fellow red. It made a difference. I told him about the goal and how we had been playing. Arsenal in the meantime, could have won the game in normal time as they decided to up their game and also go for it, to avoid the dreaded lottery of penalties.

‘I hate them’ – Deano messaged me, as the game had finished 1-1. What happened to both teams sharing the shield? And so, it was, penalties, with extra-time having been dispensed with. Don’t ask me to name all those who participated. I can recall Mo striking home the first and Fabs and, and, well all I recall after that is Brewster smacking the top right-hand angle of Leno’s goal and thinking that ‘We’ve had it’.

It was left to Aubameyang to score the winning penalty. Having just manged to set myself-up in the Dream Team in work, I hope he scores a few more this coming season to earn me some points, though of course, and most importantly, not to the detriment of my one and only team (lads – Deano and Davie take note!!), Liverpool.

I had time to kill and was not sure what to do with it – especially as I’d had a pint and half of shandy. It was I felt too risky to drive. Maybe a walk would suffice. I wondered how far down the road it was to town, adjacent to the steel works, for I was not only in the land of my mother but also my grand-father, who had worked there many moons ago.

1404.

4/9/20.

Still Writing Their History

League Season Review: 2019/20.

Trying to kick the ball about in the garden has just made me want to write this; a little reflection on the season so far.

It was when Bobby put Mo through, against Newcastle at home, with that exquisite back-heel, that just encapsulated the skill which comes to my mind, which led to the winning of the title.

Then, I would say it was that game, against Villa. That was the most crucial win. There was a stage that afternoon when Man City were winning and we were losing and the gap was down to 3 points. They would play us next and if it stayed that way, anything could happen. Was it no wonder that I exploded in joy and relief when Robbo scored the equaliser and then went ballistic when Sadio scored that last gasp-winner. For the first time I really felt fear before Robbo’s equaliser, fear that we would be caught. Yes, I know we beat City the week after and moved 9 points ahead of them but it could have been oh so different.

Sweets – every game, always the same ones and if they were not, then we lost and also me trying to park my car always in the same spot when I go to Davie’s to watch the game! As if I’m superstitious – you bet! Then also trying to write-up about every game we won so that Liverpool may keep the incredible run going.

As I pick this piece back-up, the season is over now. I thought at one stage that the ‘Null and Voiders’ were going to have the last laugh – but we did, Liverpool FC. It is incredible what Klopp has achieved. Writing this I will be disappointed if he does not win ‘Manager of the Year’. The team has been relentless. Playing some fantastic, attacking football along the way, in spurts at times. It was like they were setting their own pace. In some games, just doing enough to win. Always I felt we could move-up another two gears.

It is hard to pinpoint one particular player as everyone has played his part, from Adrian, to Ali, to Robbo, Gini, Mini, Sadio, Mo and Hendo! I feel though that we can’t do without Virg – who has played every minute, of every league game for the last two seasons. He was almost the final piece of the jigsaw as Ali was the final one. Though it is doubtful if we could have won the league without Sadio. He has been nothing short of brilliant for the last two years. He has pace to burn and just so accurate and cold-blooded in front of goal. And that smile! It lights-up any ground. I would love it if he won the Players Player trophy.

Yesterday I was trying to figure out how many League doubles we have completed and so here goes, from my head; Aston Villa away – 2-1 (Robbo and Sadio), Home 2-0 (Mane & Jones); Chelsea a 2-1 Trent and Bobby, Chelsea h 5-3 Naby, Trent, Gini, Bobby, Ox, Crystal Palace a 2-1 now I know Bobby scored the winner! Palace h 4-0 Trent, Fabinho, Mo and Mane, Leicester h 2-1 Mane and Milly pen a 4-0 Bob 2, Millie pen, Trent. Norwich h 4-1 own goal after an Origi cross, Virg, Mo and I’m not sure if Sadio scored the 4^th, a 1-0 where Sadio came off the bench and turned to hit it home from close range. Southampton a 2-1 I believe when Sadio deffo scored and I can’t say with certainty who got the other but I know Adrian cocked-up! H 4-0 Ox, Hendo, Mo 2. Spurs H 2-1 when we were a goal behind after about a minute. Hendo and Sadio got brought down with Mo converting the spot-kick. Bobby scored the winner at Spurs, 1-0. Sheffield Utd a 1-0 when Gini squirmed a hopeful ball in, h 2-0 where I think Mo and Mane scored. West Ham a 2-0 Ox and Mo, West Ham h 3-2 and just don’t ask me who scored as I’ll just guess with Sadio and Mo no doubt! Bournemouth a 3-0 Ox, Naby and Mo h 2-1 after the Watford defeat, where we again conceded early with Mo scoring a scuffed equaliser, Virg putting Sadio through and Millie acrobatically clearing off the line – the most important piece of action in 30 – Years. Wolves at home was a 1-0 win, thanks to a Sadio goal then Wolves had a legit goal VARRED out. Also, we won 2-1 away where Hendo opened the scoring, they equalised before Bobby again popped-up with a last gasp winner! I forgot Brighton. We beat them 2-1 at home thanks to two identical Virg headers and then nearly collapsed as Ali got sent-off with the visitors scoring to make it a back’s against the wall last few minutes. We won the away game 3-1 after winning the league. Mo was it and Hendo who put us 2-0 up before we again got slack at the back and they scored a whizzing low shot to make it 2-1. Mo though scored a near post header to make it 3-1.

Crumbs – so that’s at least 12 doubles – 72 points in current currency. I wonder where the other 27 points came from? I know we beat every team in the league this season so lets start with Arsenal at home when Matip rose highest to score with a Kop End header before Mo was pulled back by Luis and he converted the spot-kick and then ran and ran firing home a low shot to make it 3-0. They scored a consolation late on. We beat Burnley 3-1 was it, away? Where Mo and Sadio had a bust-up? Deffo Bobby scored and Trent as well from a ridiculous ball which looped into the top corner of the net! Then there were wins over Watford at home when Mo cheekily back-heeled twice and the visitors missed sitters. Everton were thrashed 5-2 where Origi scored two spectacular goals along with Shaq and Sadio with Gini scoring late on. We beat Man City with Fabinho firing in a fantastic long-ranger howitzer, Trent sending Robbo scampering down the wing before crossing first time for Mo to head home without breaking stride – that could have been the Championship, there and then. Sadio’s bullet header made it 3-0 as City scored late on. Man Untied were beaten 2-0 at home with Virg heading in early as Bobby had a superb goal chalked-off, as did Gini before Mo ran half the length of the pitch and slotted home with the Kop dusting off their old ditty of ‘We’re gonna win the League’.

We drew 1-1 at OT with Divock being fouled before United went up-field, crossed the ball and someone scored. Lallana though preserved our un-defeated league record which stretched-back until January 2019, by ghosting in and prodding in the equaliser as a parting gift. Somehow, we let Burnley back into the game at Anfield after Robbo had scored a powerful header from the right-hand side. In all fairness, the visitors should have won. It stopped us from recording 19 home league wins but the result helped us go 3 League seasons un-defeated at Anfield which is apparently a record. Also, there was that 0-0 draw – the only one of the entire League Season, at Everton which is instantly forgettable except for the fact it nudged us closer to the 5 points required at that stage to win the League.

And to the losses. Only 3. Make that 4 out of 76 over a two-season period. Incredible. The 3-0 defeat at relegated Watford was thouroughly deserved. Awful, sloppy defending. Should have been more conceded as well. Then when the Title had been wrapped-up we pressed Man City for twenty minutes and did not take any of the numerous chances we created and got punished 4-0 in the end and it could have been more. They let-us off lightly if truth be told. When we went to Arsenal and went 1-0 up through Sadio I felt that we would at least get a point but two gifts from Virg and Ali, gave Arsenal the points in a game where we again did not convert a hat-full of chances we created!

I am led to believe that this Liverpool 2019/20 team, have beaten the points tally of our 1978/79 team, who lost 4 games and scored 80 odd goals and conceded a miserly 16 goals over 42 matches. I don’t judge Liverpool on other sides but our own past teams and it is debatable if there was a greater Liverpool team than that 78/79 team which contained Clemence, Neal, A. Kennedy, Thompson, Hansen, Souness, McDermott, Case, R. Kennedy and David Johnson and a certain Kenny Dalglish. Now though, you can instead read Alisson, Trent Alexander-Arnold, A. Robertson, Virgil van Djke, J. Gomes/J.Matip, J. Henderson, G. Wijnaldum, Fabinho, Mo Salah, Bobby Firmino & Sadio Mane – for these men have earned their place alongside the past club legends; they are still writing their history…

27/07/20

I Did Not Want It to End

Newcastle United A

26/7/20.

I could have just carried on watching as the last twenty minutes of our season wound down in the best possible way, with the reds playing delightful one-touch, flicking football, like the true champions they are. It was an absolute joy to watch and I felt gutted when the final whistle went. Will we ever see anything like it again?

This time I had arrived within twenty minutes of kick-off and armed with some bars, given to me by work. I would not buy them myself but Carly smiled in delight when I popped the carrier bag down, in the kitchen, which smelt of freshly cooked chicken in a bag. It made me realise just how hungry I was having not had not much more than a bowl of cereal since I’d got-up.

It’s strange, I don’t eat much these days. I drink a lot more though and I put this down to my new job. You see, as I chatted to Carly and the lads, Dean and Davie, I took voluntary redundancy before being pushed and now am not stressed about which plastic part goes on in the correct order or what mill gap I’m allowed when a curved piece of plastic goes on a plane seat- anymore but have a physical pain sometimes; let’s just say, I don’t fear going to work now; besides which, I’ll never need a gym!

The lads tried to tell me the much-changed team, for the last time, in our Title winning season. Alli, Neco Williams, Robbo, Virg and Joe at the back with Millie, Naby and Gini in the middle. Up top there was Divock – build him a statue, Mini and ‘The Ox’. All the other main guys were on the bench. Just when was the last time Mo, Mane or Bobby did not start? One for the statisticians to look-up me’s thinks.

Newcastle. Ah, so much potential. And we gifted them a goal before we all realised it. Virg seemed to be on the back-foot and a quick free-kick ball over the top, which was put in by Gayle ‘Who always scores against us’ Deano said. After 26 seconds! Nuts. Stunned and shocked, even as VAR checked the goal. I thought that they were offside but Neco must’ve been playing them on. Lesson learnt there for our countryman.

That was about as much as Newcastle seen of the ball, as I cast my mind back to the game at Anfield when we had also gone behind. We had come back to win then. I hoped that despite us having won the League, that we would replicate that action as no-matter how many points we were ahead, I wanted Liverpool to win – always win, it has been instilled and ingrained back into our DNA now by Klopp.

There were crisps of differing sorts in the bowls – and I tried not to take too much advantage but was grateful as Liverpool almost half-heartedly knocked the ball about, hardly registering too many shots at goal in the first period apart from one by the ‘Ox’ which went wide of Dubravka’s right-post. Then the Ox got down the right by-line with a burst of pace and crossed and there was Virg to head powerfully into Dubravka’s top left-hand corner, postage stamp-style. What a simple, well-crafted equaliser, it meant that Virg had scored in the first and last games of our League season.

After that Newcastle may as well have not bothered. Liverpool could have scored again and as Davie finally got the half-time tea’s in, with baby Kelsey showing her ever impressive artistic portfolio of pencil drawings, and the crisps having all been consumed, the second-half was nearly under-way. Sweets were put in the bowl and Liverpool seemed to have moved-up a gear from second to fourth in one switch akin to that Niki Lauda in the film, ‘Rush’ which I’m half-way through watching. Talking of films, I chatted to Dean about the one I had seen the previous night called ‘The Post’ – quite good. He was all over it like – well, Liverpool around Newcastle’s penalty area, as modern American history is his thing. ‘Watch, ‘All the Presidents Men’ he suggested. Maybe I will – just to broaden my own mind.

We were debating about Origi and whether he was good enough – even now, as we easily recalled his vital goals on our way to winning last season’s Champions League (really – did we win that? I have to pinch myself now). And whether Divock was happy to play only fleetingly and what did he go and do, score a cracking, curling goal to put us 2-1 up! He must have heard us.

Divock was off soon though as the terrible three came on. Mane, Mo and Bob. The Geordies must’ve feared the worst. They had every right to. From the moment our main men came on, Liverpool looked totally transformed. It was first to every ball and the midfield did not look so dis-jointed to the forwards. Bobby was the orchestrator with his clever balls and first time passes as the ball was almost slid slow motion around, with first touches from the back to the front, as space was found and chances were created, with Mo hitting Dubravka’s left post almost instantly after coming on. Then he had about another three decent chances. ‘You should have had about 30 goals!’ Dean shouted at our Egyptian King who now had no-chance of retaining his Golden Boot.

As Davie urged though, we still needed that third killer goal, especially as we had seen the team concede needless goals against Burnley and Arsenal which cost us the chance of 100 points. Virg lofted a long ball forward and in the blink of a Bobby back-heel, Mane was cutting in on our left and arrowing a belter into Dubravka’s bottom left to make it 3-1. That was it. No way back for the Barcodes after that.

It should have been more as the four minutes of added on were played out. Four minutes of a season which would live long in the memory. No wonder I did not want it to end…

26/7/20.

1036

Their Day Was Complete (987).

Their wedding was a small do.

Set in the picturesque little church, just tucked-in along the canal.  A small drive up the hill, past the shop on the right and then, before smelling the alluring chips from the chippy, a turning right was required and if you’d blinked, you’d missed the church on the left.

It was here that John had always dreamt about getting married, if anyone was un-lucky enough to have him; as soon as Ami saw it, she too had also fallen in love with it.

Being local, his mates and family were already in ‘Saint Oswald’s’, having gone for more than a quick pint or three, in ’The Waterloo’, just across the road.

John stood waiting nervously outside with his best man, older brother Alan.

‘Have a drop of this Scruff; for your nerves’, Al said, handing John a small hip flask, with a Liver Bird crest engraved on it.

‘Cheers Al’ he said, taking a large gulp of the Bacardi and coke.

‘Feeling better, scruff?’ Alan asked, as he put an arm around his brother’s shoulder. For years now Alan had called him ‘scruff’ as a back-handed compliment. It always made John feel that he was loved by his brother, as the years could roll away to when they were kids and now, only Alan or their mum could make him feel that.

‘I’ am a bit Al’ he said, adding nervously, ‘Sshhee, she, will come, won’t she?’ as two blackbirds padded around the grass, looking for any worms before continuing their search on the scenic, tree-lined ‘nal’ just above them, where in the distance, an echo of a cricket bat hitting a ball could be heard, whilst on the corner of the road, a man in a burgundy red jacket and chequered flat cap, lifted a camera to expertly take a photo of a passing bus.

Just down the road, in Nic’s house, Ami looked in the large mirror for the millionth time.

‘Oh, I haven’t smudged my lippy again have I?’ she cried, whilst she nervously ensured that she had put in her tiny silver, white diamond ear rings, which Johnny had bought her the day after they had got engaged, whilst drinking tea, on the rock.

It was just another sign that he would give her anything, especially the greatest gift of all; his heart.

‘If you don’t get a move on, I’m going to clout you with this!’ exclaimed Nic, as she produced her police truncheon from out of the cupboard under the stairs and began to tap it gently into the palm of her hand, ‘then I’m going to arrest you for wasting a police woman’s time’ said Nic who’d had gotten drunk the night before on less than a half a bottle of lager, much to Ami and Rachel’s amusement.

Ami laughed in a fit of giggles. Welling worrying tears turning into happy ones. Ami was so glad that she was with Nic as her mum May stood close by, whilst her dad Dai impatiently paced the living room carpet, tutting, mutteringly tapping his watch; he knew better than to interfere in women’s stuff though; years of marriage had taught him that.

‘I do’ said John, smiling in total relief, as though Liverpool’s Mo Salah had just scored the title winning goal against Man. United in the last seconds; for at that moment, his dream of becoming Ami’s husband come true.

He was deliriously happy and felt as lucky as any man alive. It was as though he had all the riches in the world which money could not buy, as his heart burst with joy.

‘You may kiss the bride’ Rev Saunders announced.

He looked down at the angel in front of him. My, she really was his all. Her smile melted him just like the first time they had kissed on the banks of the River Usk in Newport, as the white moon had shone down good fortune upon them, whilst reflecting on the greying water.

Delicately he lifted Ami’s veil up, immediately seeing the sparkle in her beautiful brown eyes and also smelling her distinct lush Chanel Number 9 scent, almost making him giddy. As Ami slightly craned her neck up, her lips quivering in anticipation, Johnny bent down slightly, then, as gently as though a feather was dropping to the floor, slowly, tenderly, kissed Ami with such care that they could have been anywhere alone, even Paris or Rome.

‘Alright Scruff!’, Al said, putting a gentle restraining big brother hand on Johnny’s arm, for he could see that the newlyweds were getting carried away as their rising passion ran-away with them – like a pounding driverless steam loco going down a steep bank.

They somehow managed to un-superglue their lips, wearing big red blushes of embarrassment and Johnny was the first to react.

‘Sorry, got a bit carried away there’, he laughed, as Ami giggled, her big dimples showing, as her brown eyes sparkled in pure mischevous delight.

As they came out of the church, with Ami and Johnny leading the way, they saw an-all black cat scamper towards them, its tail bolt upright. It was soon rubbing itself around Ami’s clear sheer tights, loudly meowing un-controllably above the din of the chiming church bells.

With confetti still fluttering to the floor, the newlyweds instinctively bent down to smooth the cat and as it began to purr, it jumped-up onto Johnny’s lap.

‘I think it likes me’ Johnny said.

Ami looked at the cats ragged pink flea collar, fondling the small metal coin identity disc attached to it. Then, as she turned the disc around, they could just make-out the name on it.

They both looked at each other; the world stood still.

‘It’s Soo-ty!’ cried Ami.

At that moment Johnny realised that his lost cat had found them; they both burst into tears.

Their day was complete…

28/04/20.

No words were necessary (1202).

As John drove the car, with green fields either side of them, it buffeted in the wind, like a silver ball in a pin-ball machine.

‘Nearly there’ he said to Ami.

He had picked her up from her house in Newport, near the ornate bridge by the river, where there was a black cat on the mural, which they always touched whenever they passed, on their way to the many bustling, busy bars there.

John had not told her where he was whisking her off to. It frilled her not to know. All he had said to her, as though he was talking to a child, was, ‘It’s not too far’.

When they had got to Cardiff, she asked, in a little girl’s voice, ‘Daddy, are we there yet?’ whilst smirking a smile, which was as wicked as anything he had ever seen.

‘Oh, no, not yet’ he said, daring not to look into her beautiful brown eyes which had been continuing to mesmerise him now for two years.

She recalled the magical night they had met in the pub. As they had stood, poles apart, one end of the long bar to the other, their eyes meeting magnetically, merging into one, to the sound of Erasure’s ‘Blue Savanah’ in the background.

John drove up a slight rise and there it was in front of them – the sea.  It was alive.

It akin to a vast white and grey, frothy blank canvas, which was moving of its own accord. Crashing onto the flat rocks and cliff which jutted spectacularly out either side of the road.

‘Oh, my goodness’ Ami gasped, at the breath-taking scene.

John parked-up. There was only one other car there.

‘Fancy a walk?’ he said, smiling, happy that he could see the joy in her eyes.

He got the Aldi mutton like bag from the boot and presently walked down to the large boulder, sandy beach, via a few steps and went onto the path, to the right.

To their left, they could see surfers, riding the crest of the crashing waves, as though on top of the world before they dipped down into the natural trough to emerge again, incredibly still standing.

‘Wow, it must be exhilarating!’ Ami gasped in awed admiration, smiling, as a long strand of her dark hair fluttered over the side of her lips to find a resting place at the corner of her mouth. The same mouth which John had dared to kiss on that first night. The thrill of which had never left him.

His left arm dropped down and then, just like the first time they had been alone, her delicate hand naturally, gently, softly, fitted into his. It had been like a bolt of electricity for him, making him feel all mushy inside – for the very first time.

Carefully they tread along the path. Ensuring that they were not blown off. To their right was the granite like Limestone cliff face. All craggy and imposing.

They went on, where to the left of them fossilised round Ammonites could be found and also bones of dinosaurs had been discovered. It was like they were in their own land that time had forgot.

There was a handrail either side now as they climbed up, almost being able to touch the jutting out sharp looking finger of rock on their right. It felt like they were climbing their own Mount Everest.

The path wound around, like a cork-screw. Higher and higher they went – akin to their love for one another, as he tightened his gentle grip on Ami.

They instinctively stopped at one point. Looking out to their left. Towards the still crashing sea below where the surfers appeared as small as ants. In the distance they could see England’s coast. The outline traced in and out as the sun briefly burnt away the cloud.

‘That must be Weston’, John said, pointing, ‘I think I can just make out the pier’.

He daren’t kiss her. Just daren’t as they would never have moved from that spot. Somehow, he resisted the temptation and basked in the natural beauty of Mary and their surroundings.

‘Are we there yet?’ she playfully asked again, smirking.

He grinned and tutted – marvelling at her youthful, playfulness, marvelling at the fact she had not changed a bit.

They continued, with each step, nearing the top.

Finally, as he looked down at her, with his hand held out, almost helping her up, they had both reached their destination.

The rock.

‘Here we are babe’ he said as they stood there, like the Statue of Liberty jutting out in the water.

‘Oh my God Johnny’, she cried, lost for words.

It was a spectacular sight, as the sun had his hat on and the clouds had finally dispersed. To Their left, in the distance they could see both Severn bridges which spanned England and Wales. To their right, was the coastline which went all the way towards the famed Mumbles of lava bread and cockles. The greying white Bristol Channel moved apace, lapping, crashing down below onto the beach. Far out there were a few ships carrying containers and other materials, going at a snail’s pace. The sea and sky merged into one white blur and they could almost have touched the sun.

 They felt as though they were on top of the world.

‘It’s breath-taking’ Ami could hardly say, bowled over, by the stunning scenery.

Then a flock of dark birds whizzed by, and in an instant, they were gone.

Presently they sat down on the wooden bench there. John produced sandwiches and of course, poured hot tea from a flask.

As Ami cupped her hands around the plastic cup she said, ‘Oh, that’s better’, taking in the sip of the medicinal brown liquid, as though it was a magic potion.

John had his one arm around her, cwtching her into him. Her smaller body fitted snugly into his tall frame, as her long dark hair easily fell down from his left shoulder.

‘Cheers’, he said, their cups touching, as the wind died down.

 She just got Johnny. He just wanted the simple but most precious of things; to be loved.

After a while, Johnny put his cup to one side, bent down to face Ami’s beautiful, still young face and mesmerising smile, which would melt any man.

With passionate fire raging inside of him, he managed to utter, ‘Ami, I love you with all my heart…Will you do me the great honour of marrying me?’.

His heart raced, faster than any wave which crashed onto the rocks below, louder than any drum which beat in an orchestra, as time stood still.

Ami was totally taken by surprise! Her face flushed with happiness and absolute delight, lighting-up the whole sky.

It seemed like an age – tick, tick, tick.

Five minutes, five hours but it was only five seconds before Ami eagerly responded.

‘Of course, I will, my love’, she replied, kneeling down to cup Johnny’s face in her hands, before bending down to gently kiss his lips.

They stayed there for an age. On the rock. Drinking Tea. With their fire burning. No words were necessary…

26/04/20.  

‘A pint of Milk’.(718)

My life is on hold. I am not the only one. Across the globe there must be millions of us. I mean there are over 60 million in the UK. Most of us cooped-up at home. I am not complaining though – even if it has helped the NHS one per-cent, then it has and will be worthwhile. To stop the spread of this horrid Covid-19.

Up to now, there have been at least 16,000 deaths in this country – far too many…

Yesterday, in total pent-up frustration, I finally threw my mobile phone onto the carpeted floor. It just refused to charge.  It was the final straw. For a few days I had nursed it to get close to 1% let alone 40% charge.  Consequently, I took immediate action in search of another phone charger and drove the 2 miles to Curry’s but alas it was of course not open. B&Q seemed to be though, but getting primer and white paint for my front door frame, was not as pressing as trying to keep my phone pulsing. That can wait.

So, I rocked-up to the nearby Sainsbury’s. It was getting warm and I argued to myself that I may as well try now that I was there. If I had gone back home it would have been a wasted journey. An image loomed in my head of the poster that was put-up, in my best Uncle Albert voice, ‘during the war’ that questioned, ‘Is your journey really necessary?’. At that particular moment, with my week long annoyance bubbling-up, ready to explode again – I argued that it was. I simply needed my mobile working – just, just in case, anything happened.

Presently I joined the queue to get in. At least Sainsbury’s indicated the gap everyone should be social distancing themselves by. I felt a tad safer at that.

Whilst wearing my gloves and getting a basket, I noticed that there were no wipes available – like in Aldi. I made the best use of being there though and got some lemons, sausages and my favourite garlic bread – well, of course, before actually seeing if they had what I wanted in the first place. I picked-up one or two phone chargers and dismissed them, conscious all the time that maybe I did not really possibly, need to be there. But I was. Fortunately, a young lad who worked there came and within two minutes had recommended the right plug-in charger. For the sake of £12, I could not lose; only gain.

I thought there was an easy passage to a checkout. Tidy. However, I heard a voice say, in a polite manner, ‘Excuse me mate’. Oh my. I had only tried to jump in ahead of a chap hidden just in an aisle, who was social distancing himself.

‘Sorry mate’ I said as I saw his laden full trolley, brimming with food.

‘I’ve come to get my tea’ he said and we laughed, as I stood more than two metres apart.

As he got to the conveyor belt, a girl said that I could use the self-service machines. Yes, I had not thought of them. Idiot.

After putting my items through, and using my contactless credit card which is all too easy to click and watch my money go, the girl removed the security tag off the charger and even put it in my Aldi bag.

Just for a change I took the old road home. Past the bus garage -which would have been a mecca for my late dad, as he loved buses and took thousands of snaps. Then, after I went through the crossroads, I surprisingly saw three cop cars and a van by the lay-by. Cars had been stopped and as I saw a copper lean onto the road, I was not sure if he wanted me to stop but he did not put his hand out, so I carried on.

If the policeman had stopped me and asked what I had been doing on the road, I wonder what he would have made of my answer; that I had just got a new mobile charger. The thought which struck me then was the clear message that a recovering Covid -19 patient had said, ‘Don’t go out; not even for a pint of milk…’

Tuesday, 21/4/20.

Not Emotionally (788)

So, I am currently holding my mobile in my right hand – whilst trying to type with my left. It is like I am nursing my phone; as I try and charge it. It is currently on 1 %. The way it is going I am going to lose it altogether.

In the grand scheme of things, it does not matter a great deal. However, I just may need to use my phone if an emergency does occur.

How many lives have been lost now? Over 13,000 – that has to be about the capacity of the current Anfield Road stand at Liverpool’s ground. It does not bear thinking about but what is even more scary is that the number of deaths is just going to rise. Just when will the curve flatten?

Of the tv I have watched, the programme which got to me the most was when Ross Kemp donned all the PPE going – two pairs of gloves, a mask and a gown plus a plastic visor, to film at the front-line, where Covid – 19 cases were actually being treated… It was a real eye-opener. It made me feel very humble at the work the doctors and nurses were carrying out with such love and care. I don’t mind saying I felt quite emotional. People do survive. It could be me there in that ward or my brother or my mum – whom I again yesterday stressed to, not to go out. It could be anyone. Young. Old. Healthy or un-healthy. This thing is not fussy – it attacks indiscriminately.

Then I just flicked over to ‘Question Time’ catching the last two minutes. The message was that the NHS are incredibly, still crying-out for all this PPE – it would be like a soldier going into battle without his helmet, body armour or gas mask. We are apparently the 5^th richest nation on earth. It is Just scandalous. Why are we in this position?

I am not political or religious – the nearest I come to this is following Liverpool FC. Surely this situation could have been prevented? Or am I being naive in thinking that the Government were not aware of the deaths occurring in China – because we were; every day.

Good news – my phone is now on 3% and it is on the floor – almost flat-lined but not quite. This has enabled me to type with two fingers now; but not necessarily meaning that I am writing anything decent or legible.

Wednesday marked the 31^st Anniversary of the Hillsborough Disaster. When 96 Liverpool fans never returned from the FA Cup Semi-final clash with Nottingham Forest. I am old enough to remember it. Old enough to have been going to watch Liverpool; old enough to have nearly been there that day but I wasn’t because I was with my mate, an Evertonian and so had ended-up at the other, almost forgotten, semi between Everton and Norwich. That was weird. I love watching football – any live football and in that period, enjoyed going to watch the blues with him but would always of course, be thinking about how Liverpool were doing and just like now, would never be happier than to hear that they had won.

Everyone knows what happened. I was upset and shocked, as were the Evertonians. Football took a back-seat for a while but I was relieved when Liverpool FC eventually decided to carry on playing.  because I had gone to Goodison, I was lucky enough to have a ticket for what turned out to be an emotional and dramatic cup final.

On Wednesday, inspired by one of the good people on twitter, I decided, for a change to wear a Liverpool top; putting on a white number, circa 2008 – think Torres, Gerrard et al. I kept an eye on the time, counting down the minutes to ‘3.06’ just sat on my sofa. Silently. 96 fans – if you look at their ages, a fair few of them would be just either side of 50 now, the same as me and as I type this, a cold shiver goes runs through my body.

The cd was ready. After a technical hitch, I put it on our song, ‘You know the one’ as Trevor Hicks says, blasting ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. I did not care if my neighbours heard it. I hoped they did. Maybe it may have helped them even in the present circumstances. It helped me as I sang badly and loudly, imagining myself on the old standing Kop with thousands around me; all in unison, all bonded together as though some mighty hidden hand had brushed superglue all over our heads.

I may have been physically alone but not emotionally.

17/4/20.

A Tad Normal.

Sunday, 12^th of April, 2020.

So, week three of my lockdown is nearly upon me – it has gone quick but just where have the days gone?

‘Have a routine’, so the experts suggested. Well, I have, sort of. I set my alarm for 8.40 – now that is way too late for a normal shift; try 4.40. But as the days have passed, I find that I am waking-up before the alarm. Just naturally. My body-clock kicking-in. I wonder if anyone else has gotten like this?

I spend far too much time on my phone and scroll  on it for a good twenty minutes, just lying there, rubbing the crusty sleep from my eyes and think of the guys still in work, as they look towards their break – conscious of the fact I should really be there. Just hoping everyone is keeping at a safe distance.

Twitter occupies me like a magnet which I can’t resist or get away from. Then it is Facebook and I say to myself at 8.30, ‘That’s it, I’m getting-up!’. By the time I’m brushing my teeth, my alarm goes off on one, wanting attention like my old dear cat Sooty, meowing for food. I glare at my phone as it lies on my bed – and say, ‘I’ll be there now’ whilst discharging a mouthful of white foam down the plug-hole.

My aim is to make it in front of the tv for 9. Sometimes I get there before this, with my breakfast hardly changing of porridge or Weetabix with blueberries, nuts and grapes and of course, my first cuppa of the day! It will be one of at least five. BBC 1 – and I get to see the girl on there. She is becoming increasingly attractive and funny as well, especially as she took the mick out of her co-presenter, a stuffy chap, the other day, by ribbing him that he had not known the name (Olaf) of the one character from the children’s cartoon fantasy. At a time of national stress – it helps to see a smiley attractive face bantering.  

The news is never good. The one bit which I really want to know is just how many poor people have lost their lives to this ‘Txxt’ and more importantly, if the figures are going down at all. Also, if the nurses who are so bravely tending people with it, have finally been given complete and utter protection – like a knight going into battle in full body-armour. To my mind, and by the way, I’m not political, they should all get tested before and after they go onto treat any suspected cases and not just then either, but every day. Then any suspected patients should be tested – ASAP. That’s it, I’ll get down off my soapbox now.

The headlines – such as they are, get repeated at 9.15 and by now breakfast is over and my hands are twiddling and idle, instinctively they grab my mobile and go straight into Twitter, with me half listening but immediately I put my phone down when they show real people – like nurses in the ward  or people in care homes or on rare occasions, pharmacies or volunteers etc, battling away. No wonder the other day I was nearly going-off on one when ‘the Beeb’ spent half an hour on Boris Johnson being in hospital. I understand he is the PM and all that but I felt they went right over the top. I sincerely hope that he recovers, just like hoping anyone else will. Boris is just as much a single statistic as Kenny Dalglish – my number one Liverpool hero or the inspirational 99 – year-old fella, who came out of hospital.

Fortunately, the sun has been out. Luckily, I live in a house with a front and back garden. I chase the sun. Setting-up my table and chairs in the bottom left-hand side of my garden and start on one of the crosswords I’ve stashed away.  As I sit there, it is quite peaceful for a while. Again, I count myself very fortunate. It’s the people who live in flats – high up too, with children as well who I most feel sorry for. It must be a nightmare for them. As if right on que, I hear the little girls from next door, pile out into their garden and start to play. I am glad that they are so innocent, though guarantee one of them, sometime along the line will scream; it signals that this surreal life we are all living is at least a tad normal…

764