Friday 9th August 2019

Start of the football season (Premier League).

And Norwich get the honour of starting the season, with some help from a team called Liverpool. All we had to do was get there.

We had put the cats in a safe place, we just had to get ourselves to the city on the Mersey, me getting there before kick off time at eight.

We were up at six. Or just past. The plans I had to write blog posts and edit shots went out the window.

We had coffee.

Then packed.

I cooked bacon butties; for the journey.

And we had showers, got dressed, and were ready to leave at eight.

Here we go. Last minute ticket check.

And we're off.

We drive into town, and find a place to park above the station, on a steep street. We were watched by a woman from an upstairs room. I checked, there were no parking restrictions.

A quick walk down the hill, over the Old Folkestone Road, down the steps and into the station. Our pre-bought tickets let us onto the platform. We had 20 minutes.

Better than being late.

For a change, the train was to leave from platform 2, so we cross over the footbridge and wait for the train to come in, which it does, from Folkestone. The information board even updated us with news that the train was between here and Folkestone.

Anyway, we get on and take our seats, checking our tickets for the nth time.

All good.

We glide out of the station on time at 08:47, and trundle under the Western Heights, and then turning down at the foot of the cliffs and along to Shakespeare Beach and Cliffs.

And, well, you know the route. Only thing this time is staying on all the way to St Pancras.

We had over an hour, so wait until everyone else gets off, then we detrain, walk to the far side of the station, taking the new route through the houses to Euston, just ten minutes away.

We arrive with the usual chaos in the departure hall. But we have reservations, so no need to panic, we just keep an eye until we were told to go to platform 15. Us and half the station, apparently.

We had seats in the carriage nearest the buffers, so a short walk. Jools stores the case in a rach, and we settle down into out seats in the quiet coach.

Ever since I was a child, I have always enjoyed looking out of the window on journeys, and would love this, a three hour trip up to Merseyside.

Our route is up the West Coast Main Line (WCML), so is quick and past some of the most interesting places for spotters, eben in the 2nd decade of the 21st century. I see: the new EMUs for the Barking to Gospel Oak line, a Post Office mobile sorting office, a Vivarail class 230, class 37s, class 47s and the usual thrill of passing through Crewe and their railway centre with the scrapped APT.

My head is looking this way and that, I swear it almost became unscrewed!

North of Crewe we turn off the WCML and head through Runcorn into Liverpool, passing from the deep cutting into Lime Street.

And it was pissing down.

Welcome to Liverpool.

Sigh.

We have no idea what way to go or what to do. But we were hungry.

Food.

Shall we go to the pub?

Or what about the pan-Asian buffet?

Yes, that sounds good.

So, in driving rain we walk over the main road and down the steps to the buffet. And for seven and a half of your English pounds you can take an empty plate and fill it, and refill it, and refill it.

And so on.

So, we do.

Three plates later, we were full, and outside the rain had stopped. So, we go outside, I get the camera out to do some snapping.

But as we were not in Kent any more, the rain was never far away, and after walking round the shopping area nearby, the rain returned and e took shelter in an Irish bar. All were wearing Liverpool shirts, and I have my Daniel Farke on one. What could go wrong?

Turns out, I don't speak Scouse, so other than nodding when a gobshite comes over to chat, we escape unhurt.

I was due to meet my friends n another bar at half three, and Jools had to find where to collect the room keys. As we were trying Air B&B for the first time. So, se went in search of an office near to Central Station, I went to another bar and had another pint.

I made a pint vanish, ad was about to got for a second when I spot Ian and Ali.

We hug and Ian says he's off to the bar.

I'll have a pint.

Please.

And so the afternoon passed. We have beer, other arrive, they have dinner, we have more beers.

So, at six, we decide to try to get to Anfield.

Anfield is, sadly, not near a station, so it is either bus or taxi of a half hour walk, if you know they way. And there is a mighty line for cabs in the station. But we jump in one in waiting traffic, and the Driver is in good spirits as he is off to the game, so we pay for his trip to the ground.

Traffic is heavy, but he gets us near the ground, and from when the car goes over the brow of a hill, we see the ground below, towering over the terraced houses around it, and everywhere is packed.

We walk to The Arkles, the most famous pub near to the ground, and where the very club was formed.

We squeeze in and Ian gets to the bar and buys us two bottles of some kind of beer each. THough we can't go outside, as we have glass bottles. I pour mine into a plastic glass, but the police don't take kindly to that either.

I drown that, and think its time I go to the ground.

All streets are lined with stalls selling scarves, badges and other souvenirs, I pass them all by.

At the ground, I am frisked before being let in, up some steps and laid out before me is the turf, glowing a luminous green under the floodlights.

This is Anfield.

I take my place and watch the ground fill up. On the side of the pitch, half a dozen TV stations have cameras lines on presenters doing links live all around the globe. There are here to see us, Norwich.

And Liverpool.

This is Liverpool's first game since winning the European Cup, so there is much to celebrate, banners are unfolded and flags waved. Songs are sung, but us and them.

Teams warm us, stand fill up. The noise levels rise further.

The teams go off, ready to enter again as gladiators to be introduced to the baying fans. Flashlights explode as the teams enter the field, the referee in front carrying the ball.

It's showtime.

The game kicks off, and in 5 minutes a shot is deflected off the Norwich captain into the far corner of the goal.

1-0.

On 20, Liverpool score a second, and City are chasing shadows.

Salah's quick feet brings a third, and a quickly taken corner nets a 4th.

This is going to be painful.

And yet, through it all, Norwich keep playing, and in the 2nd, survive a couple of scares, and through it press and press. City hit the bar, then Pukki is put through and puts the ball in the corner.

4-1.

And that was it for the scoring. Could have been worse had Liverpool taken their chances all their players been fit. But, enough to be positive about.

We cheer and applaud the players, and they applaud us. We have sung the whole game and made a proper good atmosphere.

And that was that.

The crowd files out, I wait for Ian and Ali, then we go to find a taxi that the driver promised us would be plentiful.

Bollocks.

50,000 people trying to get on buses or flagging down taxis.

We are wearing yellow and green and stand no chance.

Half an hour goes by. Taxis go by, we wave that the drivers stare right through us.

A queue for a bus forms.

Three buses sail by and more queues form.

We stand no chance. 90 minutes now have passed since the end of the game. It is nearly half eleven. When a bus stops near us, and in our line we get on. Though two frends could not run for the bus, so missed out. We wave at them as our bus pulls away and heads back to the city centre.

Jools was waiting in the Air B&B, and all I had to do was find my way to Central Station, get on the right train to Moorfields Station.

I found the station, but then had the fun of getting a ticket at the station at midnight. All dregs of society were on show, the bright young things, the drunk, the shady and me.

I get a ticket, and ask to make sure I am on the right platform.

A train comes in, I go one stop to Moorfields, take the only exit and am at the building.

I call Jools, and she comes down to meet me to take us to the room.

I mean, its not a bad place, has a bed, a kitchenette and bathroom. But that is it. No TV or radio, and no air conditioning, which was a pain as it was humid as hell, and in the blurb the surrounding area was described as "lively", it sounded like a riot was going on.

We slept fitfully.

And it was hot. Damn hot.