Sunday 8th December 2019

Dateline: Norwich.

And much to my surprise I lay in bed, gently sleeping until quarter past seven, and outside it was almost light. But with breakfast scheduled for nine, I could lay in bed, check the news on my phone and just force myself to chill some more.

There would be plenty of time for being busy later.

I get up at eight for a shower, make the bed and try to make the room like I hadn't slept in it, and at quarter to nine I heard Sarah in the kitchen below, so I go down to say good morning and also to see if I could help with anything.

There wasn't. But soon we sat down to hot croissant, cereal, fruit and lashing of fresh coffee. A perfect start.

And we talk, lots. About, I don't know, things. I remember talking about politics, HS2, Mum and much, much more. So it was a wrench to say at half ten that I really needed to go, and so leave Sarah and Richard.

Outside it was a golden morning, all blue skies that contrasted with the golden leaves still on the path and road as I walked down to the city centre. I have done this before, so know the way, and I wanted to take in a graffiti-filled subway as there was some good art in there last time, but not this, just tags all along the length. In fact a school kid was tagging on top of another tag as I walked past, whilst his girlfriend stayed on lookout.

I walk through an estate down onto St Benedict's Street, an ancient road with four churches in a few hundred yards, and lined with old inns, courtyards and independent shops, all closed at eleven on a Sunday morning, of course. Everytime I walk past where the Norwich Record and Tape Exchange used to be, I think of the musty smell of mouldy record sleeves and ove the unwashed record collectors, like me, who used to trawl through their racks every week.

All gone now.

Up to the market square, and from the edge I could smell chips frying. I check with my stomach if it would like some chips. And it replied yes, with lots of salt and vingar. So, I always go what I'm told, wander through the rows of closed stalls to find the one chippy open, and order a medium sized tray, and smother it with salt and malt vinegar in the traditional way. I then go to one of the tables at the top of the row, to sit and eat and people watch.

I have always wondered who buys army surplus camouflage gear, but as no one goes to the stall, I still don't know.

From there I wander to Gentleman's Walk, then along Back of the Inns, I mention these as I love that Norwich has streets with these names. I mean, Back of the Inns? Anyway, up through Castle Mall, stopping at the fresh coffee shop for a bag of tiramisu flavoured beans and a big cup of freshly brewed Java.

It was now getting towards midday, and the time I was supposed to meet my friends, Ian and Ali. I walk up Timber Hill, past the Murderers, tempted to go in for some real ale, but at the top is The Woolpack, a pub my parents and I used to frequent in the 1980s. Its not changed that much to be honest, other than multiple TV screes each showing a different sports channel. I buy a pint and take one of the few remaining tables to wait.

A few minutes later, they arrive, and so its pints all round. We catch up, a lot has happened since August 8th since we parted last outside Anfield. But we are all well, well other than head injuries, flu and a bad shoulder. W're doing OK.

One more pint and we walk to the ground, down the hill to Carrow Bridge and then round the ground to where I hope my smart card will let me in. I assumed it was a smart card, I could see no chip. I stand in line and when I get to the front, put the card in the reader and the red light changed to green, and I was allowed in.

Simple.

Good job I took note of my seat row and number, as there was no way of finding out now.

I get the same thrill as always when I walked out onto the terrace, the floodlights making the grass shine with neon brightness. The ground was full and the singing was loud. And out come the players, we cheer and flags are waved.

My seat was right behind the goal, one row from the front, so getting an idea of the way the play developed was difficult, but for the first half, all went well. We score on twenty minutes of so, and all seemed well with the world. Until a dark cloud passed over and dumped a hailstorm on us, for 15 minutes. I was soaked.

During half time, the Sheffiled Utd players were doing hard exercise instead of getting the ahairdryer treatment, so Norwich should have known they would come flying out when the whistle went for the second half.

But it seems the players didn't get the message. Within two minutes they were level, and three minutes later they were ahead.

From there, Norwich didn't play badly, just without conviction, and it never looked like they believed we could score. And so it proved.

The final whistle went with the ground half empty. I had no reason to rush out, so stay behind until the stand was almost empty. My friends were not going out for post-match pints, so looking at my ticket I see I have a ticket allowing me to travel on any service, so decide to catch the train an hour earlier than planned.

I reach the station 35 minutes before departure, and the train had just pulled in so was empty. I mean who would want to travel at five on a Sunday evening in December?

Half of Norwich apparently. By five, the train was packed, standing in the vestibules. And so it continued down the line, with people getting on, having nowhere to sit.

Being dark, I could only look at my reflection, and the occasional passing station, zipping by too quickly to be able to identify it.

Once at Stratford, I had 20 minutes to get to the International station for the Dover train, which I manage, and sit on the platform as two Eurostars hammer by at 180mph a few feet away. They are impressive.

I manage to get a seat on the train to Dover, squeezing on a table with an arty couple dressed in matching red berets. As you do.

Jools was waiting for me outside the station, and drove me home, back up the hill and past the castle.

By the time I got home it was twenty to nine, and the weekend nearly gone.

We have a selection of party food and a brew while we catch up. And the day, the weekend was done.

Phew.