So that was that.
Second year. First term. Over.
My Dad came to pick me up in the early afternoon and we were off. I was again going to swap the high life in the big city for a much more low paced existence in the countryside for a month.
We set off, out of Liverpool past Allerton Cemetery, on towards Speke Boulevard and further onwards over the Runcorn Bridge. Then out along the A533, (a maze by any estimation apart from Dad’s) to the A49 at the Tall Trees Filling Station.
As we drove through Whitchurch on the A49 we had the football on the radio. Back in the day, there was no Radio 5. So it was to Sport on 2 on the medium wave that we were tuned.
There was some game going on as we drove. Chelsea were playing Liverpool at Stamford Bridge and it was one of those games in which, back in the day, Liverpool would stand toe to toe with anybody, trading goals. And, more to the point, finish the game having scored more.
Today’s scoreline was Chelsea 2-5 Liverpool. Beardsley and Rush had made it two within five minutes before Gordon Durie halved the deficit on twelve minutes. Ray Houghton made it 1-3 on twenty-three minutes and there were no more goals until Steve McMahon grabbed Liverpool’s fourth on fifty-one minutes – four minutes after Beasant had saved Molby’s penalty. Rush made it five with his second on seventy-nine minutes and Chelsea’s great goal getter Kerry Dixon finished the scoring in the penultimate minute.
And that really was that. I was home and ready for the Christmas festivities to commence…