Saturday 23 December 1989

So, today was the day.  Home at last.

There was of course the small matter of my having to have my stitches removed first.

Accordingly, I lay on my bed, eyes shut tightly with that familiar lightheaded feeling as the nurse undid the surgeon’s fine piece of needlecraft.  There, all done, you can go home now… Hooray!

When I got home they had set up the living room, just for me. Well almost.  The large portable reclining deck chair had been moved into the room, right in front of the telly.  This was a good thing.

The first thing that I watched was the delayed, live (that’s right, delayed, live) transmission of Liverpool versus Manchester United.  This was another case of my condition having denied me the use of a ticket for an event that I had already bought and paid for.  This time, along with my season ticket (ok, Dad had paid for that), I had been up to Anfield some weeks previously and bought another ticket for my brother.  The intention being that he and I would attend the game.

In the event, he went with his mate and I had to settle for this.  I don’t know why ITV had to show it this way, it’s just that this was before the days of Sky Sports, so I’m guessing that someone in the FA was still working on their infamous blueprint which would revolutionise the distribution of wealth within that game.  I mean herald the introduction of the Premier League…

In the event, the game was a goalless draw.  Liverpool stayed with Arsenal at the top of the table while United remained in mid table mediocrity. That’s just how it was back then.

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