Saturday 1 October 1988

I wanted to go to the football today, Liverpool versus Newcastle United. More of which later.

However, I had arranged with my parents for them to bring the rest of my stuff, so I was busy receiving them instead. I didn’t note it in my diary, but I am sure that I recall my Mum making a comment that she was a bit upset that they had come all this way to see me and all I had done was make it blindingly obvious that I would rather that they hadn’t… Sorry Mum.

Anyway, a few miles away in L4, Mirandinha’s penalty at the Kop end settled things in the Geordies’ favour after Gary Gillespie and John Hendrie had traded first half goals.

Friday 7 October 1988

Perhaps if I had said, ‘and thus started one of the greatest drinking careers in the history of the University of Liverpool‘ I might have been a little nearer the truth.

Tonight was that night of nights, the first ever Civil Engineering Society pub crawl.  Well the first one that I had ever been on.  I can’t remember much, save for the fact that I met a few of my cohort properly for the first time.  Yes, I know that we had traversed a week’s worth of lectures together already, but to my mind you only really begin to know someone when you’ve been out on the lash with them.  It’s as true now as it was then…

I only noted a couple in my diary mind.  There was H***** – immediately christened ‘H’ and Ed.  If we’d known anything about anything, we’d have called him Mr Ed, but we didn’t so we erm… didn’t.  And then, there was P***.  He was / is a lad from Cannock in Staffordshire.  On hearing his accent and in my infinite wisdom, I asked him whereabouts in Birmingham he was from.  He took it remarkably well all things considered, ‘I ay from Birmingham, I’m from Cannock…’  ‘Oh right, sorry mate.’

There were also a couple of Geordie lads, one of whom I developed an immediate and long lasting antipathy towards – he was a p***k(!) what is a man supposed to do?  The other, after he’d forgiven me for my p**s poor attempt at a Geordie accent became a good friend and one of my circle of ‘copying’ friends.  When I say copying I don’t mean blatantly and brazenly plagiarising… I mean offering mutual help and guidance… like a study group of sorts… honest.

Finally, the love of my life.  Or rather the new love of my life.  My latest infatuation.  I did ask her out, eventually, but she wasn’t interested.  It was great being in love with her though, especially when I thought that she didn’t have a bloke.  I could sit next to her in lectures or stand next to her on group nights out, occasionally even talk to her.  There was no pressure, only the deep delight that I took in being in her presence.

Saturday 22 October 1988

Having been to a game at Anfield in the early eighties, I suppose that I shouldn’t really count Liverpool 0-0 Coventry City as my first game.

However, that earlier visit had been with my Dad and brother.  This was under my own steam and with two of my new Civil Engineering mates, Ed and H.  The game of course was forgettable, but the bus ride up there was breathtakingly nerve-wracking, the tension building with every corner that the bus turned.  The walk up the inside to the top of the Kop and then out and down towards the vast greenness of the pitch was just jaw-dropping.