The tales of a 15 year old me.

So on Sunday Everton played Carlisle away in the FA Cup and that got me thinking about my trip to Carlisle in the FA Cup. So re-re wind the crowd say “Bo Selecta” and a 15 year old me met a lad from Carlisle called John or “Snowy” as we nicknamed him due to his very blonde hair. I met him on a holiday in Malta in September 1988 . I Also met a nice girl from Mirfield (By Huddersfield) but the less said about that the better but my parents allowed me to get the train up there just turned 15. My god there is no chance I would let a lad of 15 come and see Elizabeth in Liverpool or make the return trip. Anyway back to the football and I made another train trip up to Carlisle and met John on the friday night and went the match on the Saturday afternoon and stood in the home end keeping quiet as games still had an edge about them in them days and I recall John Barnes coming in for a bit of racial abuse from the home fans. Liverpool won and at the quarter final Liverpool played Brentford at home so I repaid the hospitality and John came down and stood on the famous kop (Yes that one before football sold its bastard soul)  The Saturday night I ended up at what could only be described as a barn dance not far from what was now the infamous village of Lockerbie. Being over a quarter of a century ago the memory is hazy but I recall trying to act hard and drinking cans of some kind of McEwans beer and being dragged up to dance with people doing some king of barn dance or what seemed like a Highland fling but no holiday romance fling (I would have remembered that !!! ) Mad to think that at the age of just 15 I was given such freedom by my parents. My Eldest daughter Elizabeth (12 in August) will never have such freedoms and so as such will be wrapped up in a bubble and dropped into life at some point wet behind the ears not ready for the big bad world. Its not that bad but you need to know your way about things, it helps. Me on the other hand knew almost every bus route by the age of 12 thanks to endless weekends travelling on a saveaway bus ticket playing such games as start at the Pier Head and first to the old Liverpool Airport on the bus wins. The 82 always beat the 80. Whilst of junior school age I would be sneaking one of my dads Woodbines cigarettes and crossing Aigburth Road then scaling a fence with spikes on top and the topping about 12 foot into Otterspool park fro a cheeky bifter ! Was life that different years ago ? Never did keep in touch with John. It was penpal or nothing in them days but I do remember his house wasn’t that far from the ground and his house could well have been under water during the recent floods there. What great days growing up finding your way in life just armed with a tenner and 50p to put in John’s mums “phone box” normally a money box style thing kept by the phone so you could offer a payment for using the precious phone line long distance to Liverpool. Due to my strange eating habits I was cheap to feed and remember just living on tins of Heinz Spaghetti on toast. Sadly I can’t remember John’s surname so no way of tracing him on the social media networks that exists these days. I do remember the girl from Mirfield’s name but best keep that in the past eh ha ha ha. So 1989 and my ventures into the big wide world. For some reason I didn’t go to the semi final of the cup (Maybe I didn’t qualify for a ticket I can’t remember) We all know what happened that day and a younger 14 year old lad I knew Phil Hammond who like me was just setting out on the adventures of life along with 95 others never made it back. Justice for the 96.


So all is going well for the Greater Manchester Marathon on April 10th. I have a 16 mile training run planned for Sunday and I have dropped a stone in weight since the start of January and am now just classed as a fat bastard instead of a very fat bastard. Any donations welcome for Down Syndrome Liverpool either on the link below or how about just a pound by texting NFAY73 £1 to 70070 to sponsor me today. Enough of the hard sell I promised not to go mad. So in other news the world of music is being hit hard by many deaths this year and the one that got me was Liverpool’s very own Colin Vearncombe more commonly known as Black who had the hit single “Wonderful Life” A strange one this as I actually felt a bit of sadness over this. Am I going mellow in my old age ? Have I discovered my heart ? Anyways Colin’s music was much more than “Wonderful Life” and I had followed his career since 1987 to date managing to catch him live twice. So I will raise my glass of wine (Yes a treat for losing a stone or as they do a Mrs Fay’s fat club ring a bell !!! ) and listen to “Ravel in the rain” and a reminder that life can be cut off in an instant and indeed whilst out jogging last Sunday I was running at the junction of Green Lane/Menlove Avenue and a fast left turn coming off Menlove. There was a woman on Menlove driving a mini and I could see her waiting for an indicator nothing came so I jogged on. She turned left and such is the junction would have been doing around 25mph an hour. I felt the air push past my knees as she went past. She didn’t even slow down or beep. Another one or two steps and I would have been doing a few summersaults that would get a perfect mark at the Brazilian Olympics and then eating tarmac for Sunday brunch. Never mind a marathon I might have been fighting for my life. It was only after I thought fucking hell that was close at the time I was too worried about being 13 miles into a 15 mile run. On the plus side if I had died imagine what kind of money my just giving page for Down Syndrome Liverpool would have raised !!!

Just fan video for “Ravel in the rain” by Black


Fay x x x x x x x

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