lunatics

Me, Jayne and bethany went to see Aaron perform with his school band at a Christmas concert at the Anglican Cathedral tonight. The building is one of my favourites in Liverpool, and the event was very enjoyable - despite bonkers religious overtones. In a religious house.

Aaron's now the principal drummer in the band. He has a good sense of rhythm. He's got my drum machine set up in his room, complete with the footpads, and plays along to anything that takes his fancy.

Within the context of his school band, he has to play rather conservatively. And he does it rather well. At home, however, he thinks he's Keith Moon so you can make up your own mind about that!

Pardon the pun, but I'm constantly "drumming" into him about keeping things simple when playing drums because it's only on very, very rare occasions that lunatics like Moon, Townshend, Entwistle and Daltrey get together and make the noise that we know and love as The Who!

Practice makes perfect....hopefully!

arrogant

To supplement my income, I do a takeaway delivery run a few times a week. It's a fascinating way of witnessing the best and worst of humanity.

Believe it or not, I always try to see the good in everyone. But my faith is well and truly shattered at least once a week by some penny-pinching knobhead and their precious takeaway meal.

Well, I don't know his name but he lives in a modest terrace house on Kelvinside in Crosby. However, "modest" is probably not a word you'd associate with this fellow. His house is a glut of wealth and extravagance beyond the means of most of us. A curtain-less window gives cause to peer into his brightly-lit and opulent cream and gold-themed lounge. His small front path has been transformed with an intricately-carved water fountain. And the bloke drives a black Rolls Royce with the personalised number plate of "TFB 36".

"TFB 36" probably stands for "Tight-Fisted Bastard - 36 times"

His whole lifestyle and property stand out a mile - overstated to the extreme in a street full of otherwise unassuming houses where most people live in the real world rather than the ga-ga land TFB inhabits. He'd suit the jet-set in Blundellsands, but probably likes the notoriety of being flash where he is, because nobody in the posh part of town would give a monkey's ball about him there.

His bill was for £19.80, and he said to me, "there you go...£20" and I turned to go as if he was alright about the change - as I've done with people for god knows how many years, you just get into a routine. But no, TFB 36 says, "what about my 20p change?????"

I wanted to hit the TFB with a brick at that point.

Now, I know a man of his means hasn't made his money giving it away. But, I'm sorry, I take particular offence at this bloke's attitude...for the sake of 20p on a cold, nearly-freezing, Liverpool night.

I have no respect for stuck-up, arrogant mingebags who, wrongly, think they're the ones doing me a favour. Because they're not. The 50p per delivery I get, I will happily forsake in order not to deal with these freaks of nature.

I do this job with the best of humour at each and every person's door. Most folk are regulars and quite pleasant people I have the pleasure of dealing with. But, unfortunately, there's some who openly berate me (and workers like me) with bloody-mindedness and disdain.

They don't deserve my attention or anyone else's. May their god help them when the revolution comes about. They deserve scorn, ridicule and a fresh watery turd across their front steps.

You're wondering now aren't you......

screwed

Due to a callous and aloof government decision to hike university tuition fees, was it any wonder there were student riots in London last night?

As far as I'm concerned, this will be the first of many if Cameron and Osborne have their way with the public purse.

Nick Clegg's attitude throughout this sorry debate has been of a man with his kecks caught down. I said the Tories would stitch the Lib-Dems up good and proper, and it hasn't taken them long has it? The thing with Clegg, Cable and Hughes is they could stop this nonsense HERE AND NOW! But they won't.

Their attitude is one of "we're here to serve ourselves, and not the country."

If the Liberal Democrats have ONE Member of Parliament left at the next election it will be a miracle. They have lost any credibility they previously had, and are the laughing stock of British politics.

On the subject of Prince Charles' car being attacked by protesters yesterday, all I can say is what makes him and his bint any more important or different from everybody else?

In fact, I'd reckon that the damage to HRH was a deliberate attack by Government agents to discredit the student movement.

It's all balls - the country's screwed as if you didn't know that already

parents

Me and Jayne went to Aaron's "Parents Day" at his school today.

He's very good at much of what he does at school. He's not too keen on P.E, Aaron's not really a sporty type anyway. He's well-mannered and pleasant to tutor according to the teacher.

It was good to hear, and a far cry from my own parents thing back at school, which I'll come to in a minute.

Strange feeling walking around a, for want of a better term, "secondary modern" school. Reminded me a little too much of where I went. It's a different place, obviously, with a different regime but it's funny how it can catch one out.....

I think I've spoken about the "Parents Evening" debacle I caused back at Chezzy, a fair while ago. For those not in the know, it's worth repeating here.

Fifteen years old, and I'd had enough with school. I'd got to the point where I'd downed tools and was on strike until I could officially leave. The letter came around the class that "Parents Evening" was soon and would all pupils give the form to their folks to sign whether they were coming or not.

I gave the letter to me Dad. Through our talks, he knew I wasn't happy at school. He opened it, had a quick glance, and asked me, "is it worth me and your Mum going in for this, son? We don't want to be embarrassed."

"No, not really, Dad"

"Okay, no problem." In one of the few times he signed anything official of mine, he ticked the "not attending" box, and I duly passed the letter back into school the next day.

A few days later I was in English class with Mrs. Aberdeen - one of the few teachers who I actually liked and gave a toss about in class when so much of my other schoolwork was down the drain. She proclaimed, loudly, "now, at Parents Evening I'm seeing everyone's Mum and Dad....except Andrew's. Can you tell me why, please?"

Cool as you like I answered, "I told them it wouldn't be worth them coming in, Miss."

Her face was a picture - like she'd been smacked in the mouth with a dolphin or something. Quickly, she regained her composure and carried on. But you know what, I felt so ashamed of what I'd said. Mrs Aberdeen didn't deserve my contempt.

If there's one thing I truly regret at school it's that little incident. Silly, but it stucks in my mind like a sore thumb. Not a lot else bothers me.

Anyway, well done Aaron. Keep it up, son!!!

responsible

To anyone in the U.K, these will be familiar scenes at the moment. Well, actually, in Liverpool we haven't had much snow to speak of, compared to the rest of the country, but the pictures below show the sort of weather we've been having.

There's an ethereal beauty to frosty scenes - which is something I'd never associate with Liverpool usually!

The daily grind, regardless of whether I'm in work or not, of de-icing the cars goes on. But where, last week, we all looked at each other with exclamations of -8 degrees or whatever, now there's a fairly relaxed and nonchalant attitude to this arctic chill, courtesy of our Russian friends if you believe the weather forecasters.

Mind, I came out of the house just before and nearly went arse over tit on the icy pavement. Remembering a caller on local radio who said that there's laws in Germany for householders to clear snow and de-ice their immediate vicinity. I thought how sensible! So I went up to a local garden centre and bought a big bag of grit - £6.99! Market forces at work!

Where we live it's particularly devoid of any direct sunlight, at the front of house anyway, so the slippery conditions still prevail whilst the weak heat from the sun slowly melts ice elsewhere. I threw down a couple of shovel fulls of grit on our path and the pavement outside - the responsible, caring person that I am. And it's worked a treat.

But for how long is another matter.

Villa

Houllier's return to Anfield was a bit pointless. His Aston Villa side are truly woeful, and a very easy win was secured last night without several key players.

One wonders why Le Boss, ably assisted by the irreplaceable Gary McAllister, took on the Villa job? They have their moments, nothing more. However, their owner, Randy Lerner, has taken a cautious, backseat approach to Villa's fortunes and it leaves the impression that being too little involved is almost as bad as being too much (Glazers, Hicks, Gillett, Manderic, etc....)

Easy pickings. Great offside goal by the enigma that is Ryan Babel. Man of the match, yet again, went to Lucas Levia. He calmly went about his job picking off Villa's midfield like flies. Good to see.

More please.

rummaging

Since moving, I've begun and finished transferring all my bills and stuff across to Fazakerley. It's been a quick process and my important details are now from here rather than the flat. Cyril's got my new address and all mail's been redirected. For now.

One of the first things I did after I moved was join the local Fazakerley library. When joining, I was asked, strangely, my football allegiance. On reply, I received the following plastic item pictured below......

It's a brilliant piece of "giving the people what they want". My first impression of Liverpool City Council's services is of a very positive nature.

Timed also to arrive to me is a new bank card. My bank, Santander (they who've taken over from Alliance and Leicester) sent a new card to my old address that failed to arrive. I cancelled that one, and asked for a replacement to be sent to here that duly arrived on Saturday, and a new PIN number today. However, the card was good for rummaging around Ebay, yesterday, getting the final bits and pieces for the kids' Christmas.

It's been a stressful couple of days here and its' reasons are not for the blog's eyes. Let's just say that church and sweets can be explosive!!

merrier

We started putting up the Christmas decorations today.

This is a comparatively new experience for me. I never bothered when I was at Mum's, and even less when was at B'sands. Jo once put up a fibre-optic Christmas tree in the flat, which was pretty cool to be honest, and I think I liked it because it was quite understated.

Christmas is something this year I'll have to endure for the sake of other people. I've had a couple of quite pleasant years away from all the bullshit, but particularly with Aaron and Bethany, I can't go around this time with a face on me.

If Christmas turns out to be a laugh, then all the merrier. But if it's the same load of bollox that I've percieved it in the past, then I think I'm better prepared to force-smile my way through it now than I've ever been.

Must be age........

tosh

Congratulations to Russia for winning the bid to host the 2018 World Cup.

Un-congratulations to England for spitting their dummy out because they think they have a divine right to host the tournament.

The fact that England secured just 2 of the 22 possible votes in the first bidding round shows how little influence the English committee had on the proceedings. Media coverage of the bidding wasn't entirely helpful to the home nation bid either.

Such a shame..............

Maybe FIFA were put off the English bid because of their over-reliance on using all things Mancunian for the presentation. Their was Bobby Charlton, (Manc legend), Prince William Of Old Trafford, David Cameron (Tory tosspot in possible pay of the Glazers), David Beckham (Manc leg-end) and a community worker from Moss Side who made Liam Gallagher sound like a member of the aristocracy.

Manchester isn't the home of football. It might think it is, but it isn't. And facts prove it.

English football has three overwhelmingly successful soccer cities. They are Manchester, London and Liverpool.

If you take the total number of major trophies (League, FA/League Cup and Euro success) each city has won, based on the current number of Premiership football teams based in these cities, it works a little like this........

LIVERPOOL (Liverpool and Everton)

League Championships 27

FA/League Cups 21

European 12

GRAND TOTAL - 60

MANCHESTER (Manchester United and Manchester City)

League Championships 20

FA/League Cups 21

European 6

GRAND TOTAL - 47

LONDON (Arsenal, Chelsea, Spurs, Fulham and West Ham)

League Championships 19

FA/League Cups 37

European 9

GRAND TOTAL - 64

And Manchester self-styles itself as the footballing capital of England? What tosh - in fact, it's another example of the hugely-exaggerated veil of self-importance this deluded bunch of people and their supporters attach to themselves.

London may be the most successful city, but surely Liverpool is still the out-and-out winner based on the two-team ratio as opposed to five.

It's not often I give our Blue friends the benefit of the doubt, but they deserve their place here.

Anyway, the fallout and bitter recriminations to the unsuccessful World Cup bid are a bit of the laugh, so I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

KKI

A little pet project of mine is a photographic record of where I grew up, the places I used to go, and what's still there and what's gone.

I started snapping Waterloo before I moved, but today was the first chance I've had in weeks to do a little more research and reminiscing.

There was a place in Waterloo I used to play in behind the hospital that was called, bizarrely, "King Kong's Island". It's 25 years since I last went there - not knowing whether it still existed anyway. KKI was basically just a tiny wooded area surrounded by bushes and brambles. There was a small pond, and it was great fun building dams, dens and hammocks. The hospital was demolished and rebuilt on a smaller scale, whilst a nursing home was built at the rear.

But, you know, "King Kong's Island" is still there! Today's inspection proved it. I may have been a little cheeky walking through private grounds (actually VERY cheeky!) but I really didn't care. A few trees smaller, but looking much the same as I last left it. A testament to the theory that the builders don't always flatten everything in their tracks.

So this is an ongoing thing, when I get the time. Waterloo was like everywhere else today - cold, icey and very sunny. But recommended!

froze

I had a memorable conversation with Jayne a few weeks ago.

"Do you think the weather will as bad this winter as last," she asked?

"Nah, no way," I replied, "and anyway, it's not even winter yet."

Famous last words.

Very, very cold in Liverpool at the moment. I went out to de-ice the cars, like I've been doing for the past week it seems, and yesterday the temperature was a blisteringly hot minus eight.

The night before, I went out on a night-time bike ride that had more to do with relieving my anger about Liverpool losing to Spurs, than keeping fit. It was BITTERLY cold and even after I got home, the relative warmth of the house was a fallacy because heat could never really penetrate the arctic conditions we found ourselves battling against.

Luckily, we've only had a dusting of snow in Liverpool. That happened overnight, but the snow quickly froze to ice, and the side roads, at least, are treacherous.

To readers in Singapore, you're probably wondering what the fuss is all about. To readers in Siberia you're probably wondering what the fuss is all about too!

Us Brits have a reputation for being very "stiff upper lip". It's nonsense. We moan about absolutely EVERYTHING, and the tiniest detail that goes awry in our sheltered lives becomes a gaping wound, overflowing with puss, that near shatters our resolve to get on.

Personally, I'm not arsed anymore. Not a lot surprises me now. Life's too short to be small.

Queen

I was embarrassingly reminded of Freddie Mercury's passing on Brian May's website a minute ago. Nineteen years since Fred passed on - it's a sobering thought.

Sadly, I'm not as much into Queen as I once was. The blues influence in their music has put me out a fair bit. And a lot of their recent activity has left me cold to be honest.

The thing with Queen was they had the songs, they had the presence, they had the power but they blew the RESPONSIBILITY that Rock had blessed them with. Ultimately all they really wanted to do was entertain people and make a sackful of money in the process. They let Rock down in a big, bad way with that attitude.

Brian once described their gigs akin to something like the Nuremburg Rally, whereas Fred saw their live shows as an escape for people from their problems for a few hours. The reality was, frustratingly, somewhere in between.

Unfortunately, what Pete Townshend ascribed to for "Lifehouse" went totally past the heads of Queen even though they were in the position to make Rock change the world. "Live Aid" only showed a tantalising glimpse of their true potential.

Now all we're left with is 1974's "Sheer Heart Attack" album and a bloody awful West End musical.

bailout

As most regular readers will know, I'm a keen observer of what goes on over in Ireland.

But I'm not entirely surprised at the country's near financial meltdown. I lived in Ireland at the apex of the "Celtic Tiger" economic boom of early noughties and the place was awash with money and prosperity for the first time in the country's long and turbulent history.

However, as an outsider looking in, I always wondered what would happen once huge fiscal support from the EU dried up as new member countries joined the Union?

The result has been catastrophic. During the good times, I suppose no one could blame the flood of money used by the government for all sorts of weird and wonderful projects. It's just a tragedy no one decided to put a little away in case things went tits up.

I used to ask folk over there what would happen when the bubble bursts and they usually gave me blank, uncomprehending faces. They're probably still wondering what the hell to do now?

I can't agree with the mass of criticism against the U.K Government putting £7 billion into the coffers for the Irish bailout package. In one of the few times I'll ever agree with this coalition fiasco, we're protecting our interests in Ireland. So much of the U.K economy is paired with our Irish neighbours that not to help them out is tantamount to lunacy.

On a purely local level, most of the U.K's trade with Ireland goes between Liverpool and Dublin. So think of folk's livelihoods in our twin cities before anything else.

flat

I've left the flat.

It's been a great three and a half years there and, despite outward appearances, I will miss the place.

I'd had correspondence with the landlord, Cyril, for the last week or so, and it seemed he was playing his usual game of fobbing me off. The sticking point was two months' notice I would have to give on the flat to leave, which didn't seem at all fair. And before anyone says I signed a lease to the effect of these circumstances, I hadn't. At least not for the past 18 months. The terms of the lease have been something both me and Cyril abided to, in spite of it not being legally signed.

I really wanted to do everything by the book, but I just couldn't see the point in paying £600 of rent for a property I wasn't at. Both me and Jayne were seriously considering just doing a runner, but with grave foreboding......

Imagine my surprise when on Wednesday, Cyril arrives at the flat whilst I was cleaning up and packing the last of my bits.

He told me I'd been the "model tenant" and of the hundreds of people over the years he'd dealt with as tenants, I'd given him the least problems and was the only person in his experience who'd NEVER missed a payment of rent.

He was incredibly kind and warm about me and was willing to help in any way he could. So we've arranged for me to leave the flat officially at the end of the month. I don't owe him a penny, and vice-versa.

I've cancelled a few direct debits. All my bills have been paid up to the 16th of December, by which time my contracts with the utilities finish.

I'm now at Jayne's and we're in the process of changing all my details for stuff over to her address, and informing the relevant councils (both Liverpool and Sefton) of our changed circumstances. We're doing everything completely and utterly above board. As an example, I've to pay my car insurer an extra £178 to change my policy from Blundellsands, L23 to Fazakerley, L10. Not fun, but it has to be done.

The flat's served me very well. The moans about the girl upstairs, the traffic wardens, and the Weetabix incident are small talk compared to the positives I took from the place. I loved the area - the fact that one was five minutes walk from the beach was an obvious plus. The flat itself was incredibly sunny and bright. I loved nothing more on a summer's day than sitting on the step, sipping from a cold can of Coke watching the world go by. That part of Crosby was incredibly busy from a traffic point of view, but it felt so alive in being that way.

I felt enormously blessed to have the chance to create my first proper home away from home there. I worked hard at it and kept the place in as good an order as I could.

I'll miss it, I've had some great times there, and can only hope the next tenant gets as much feeling of it being their home as I did.

Hawes

More catching up. Here's some pictures of the weekend me, Jayne, Aaron, Bethany and Mum spent up in Yorkshire. I reached the milestone age of 40 whilst in we delighted in Hawes - a small market town in Wensleydale and nothing to do with partaking sexual favours with morally-defunct women. Hawes, however, is populated by inbreds.

There was a party at Jayne's Uncle Dave's for the family - everyone came up from Liverpool. It was a lot of fun and I was presented with a big cake!

The hotel we stayed at was awful. We'd been at Uncle Dave's, and arrived back at the digs before the rest of the party. Upon coming into the bar, it went silent - all eyes on us. A very unnerving experience.

A little later on, when the rest of our entourage arrived, there was a clear division between locals and us. They all stayed by the bar, sometimes looking across and snarling. I didn't really get hung up on the tension, and left the bar early, but not before who I thought was a punter tried to dance with Jayne's Auntie Viv. Viv was rocking her grandson in her arms, and this bloke came behind her and danced in a lecherous fashion. Turned out this was the landlord!

Our room wasn't too bad - clean and tidy, but the sliding door to the en-suite bog/bathroom kept coming off its' hinges and banging me on the head. Aaron and Bethany slept next door, in a room without functioning heating. It was absolutely freezing when I went in there the following morning.

On Sunday morning, we couldn't get out the place quick enough. The landlord was hanging around, pretending to be busy. His attitude was shocking - he just didn't give a shit. No apology for the previous night's antics.

Likewise, we couldn't wait to get off for home. Hawes was a nice enough place, but there was bog-all to do. We spent most of morning waiting for people to show up or not as the case may be, and when we got our chance, we were away.

Both me and Jayne said beforehand that we could have done without this trip because it was enormously expensive. And as much as we had a laugh, it was nothing we wouldn't have missed. But we should treasure these little trips away, because they're gonna be few and far between next year with saving for our wedding.

humbled

I'm playing catch-up again.

On Thursday in work, my colleagues did me proud by giving me a pre-birthday to remember.

As well as loads of nice prezzies and cards, they streamed the place full of balloons and banners - the pride of which was a huge pink penis, pictured below, that hung directly above my desk.

I've been genuinely humbled by my workmates' kindness and generosity. After 15 years together, I mustn't do them in THAT much!!!!

Thanx Ron, Ing and Mandy xxx

Rock

Twelve hours later and my ears are still ringing.

Cheap Trick are the masters of their art.

Rick's guitar playing was as potent and driven - brutally loud and obnoxious! Robin still has the voice to melt metal - effortlessly powerful and heartfelt as ever. Tom is the still the world's best 12-string bass player - viciously noisy and bold. Daxx (deputising for the peerless Bun E.) held all the madness together - providing a solid backbone to this remarkable quartet's brand of Power Pop.

It was the best gig I've been too - they were that good. It's said that sometimes you should never see your heroes in the flesh, you'll only be disappointed. Cheap Trick didn't disappoint me. They re-affirmed my faith in Rock.

Rock and Roll will save the world. I saw a glimpse of it last night. You read it here FIRST!

family

Things could be moving quickly. I say "could" because both me and Jayne want to get it right.

Ooops, nearly forgot, this is about my flat and not anything else....yet!

I hope to be moving into Jayne's officially in the near future. Some of my stuff is already there, so it kind of feels like home already. But neither of us are taking anything for granted. We know what we want to do, both Aaron and Bethany are on board, and we're going to do it right and legitimately (to the best of our abilities) in the shortest time frame possible.

For both of us this is a time for cool heads in the midst of our forthcoming future together.

We get on really, really well. We love each other to bits, we cuddle, kiss, bonk, pull faces and fart. Granted, we can moan like mad at the other, but this happens once in a blue moon now compared to a difficult patch we had over the summer. I stuck it out because I knew that Jayne was good - she still is and a lot more.

There's no triumphalism in what I'm saying. I know there are those out there who are by the wayside now and it'd be the most fantastic world ever if we could all please everyone all the time. Diplomacy has never been my strong point, and I feel I've been badly lacking in the last twelve months. No point saying "Sorry" because I'm just one of these people who never seems to learn.

I'm 40 years old on Saturday and I've spent most of my life basically doing whatever I've wanted to do - without forethought or needing permission to the point sometimes where I've all the tact of a bull in a china shop. But I can't do this any longer. I can't keep on being here just for me. It's just not fair on the few around me and the consequences are enormously negative should I have chosen a lone path. In fact, I'll contradict myself here and say those consequences in my forty years here so far could probably fill up Hell.

I'm not a bad person. I've just spent too much of my life avoiding responsibility.

Jayne says she knew when she met me I was "The One". In me, she's seen so much potential to be good and she's nurtured me into a half-adjusted member of the human race. I've never let someone in that closely. There's no downside to it, and the little changes I've had to make within myself haven't been too taxing. But Jayne encouraged that - sometimes subtlety, and sometimes quite in my face! But it's all been good.

In return, I've hope that I've given both Jayne and the kids a semblance of security and normality in their lives. Just as they give to me.

So after 40 years of trying, I've found "The One" as well. Funny how it happens?

This is why me, Jayne, Aaron and Bethany are all getting together soon. We're a family. And we're gonna make it work.

See you soon in Fazak.

Badfinger

One of my favourite bands of all time are Badfinger. Apple Records have recently re-released their back catalogue, which includes their 1971 masterpiece "Straight Up".

A more complete collection of Power Pop just isn't available. And I'm a connoisseur of the works of Big Star, The Raspberries and The Move.

The story of Badfinger is without doubt the most sad and tragic in the entire history of Rock. The band were royally screwed by their business manager to such a degree that it ended with the suicides of Pete Ham. aged just 27, in 1975, and Liverpool's own Tommy Evans, aged 36, in 1983. It's such a cautionary tale that anybody wanting to get involved in the music business would do well to heed.

But back to "Straight Up". Produced at separate sessions by both Todd Rundgren and George Harrison, it's Badfinger at the peak of their powers. Beginning with the towering ballad "Take It All" which alone proves that the previous year's "Without You" wasn't just a one-off. Followed by the power pop-standard "Baby Blue". Evans' "Money" and "Flying" hark back to Abbey Road-era Beatles. "I'd Die Babe", "Suitcase" and "Sometimes" all written by Joey Molland show the band's Rock side - the latter track a tantalising taster to what Merseybeat could've become. Ham's "Perfection" is just perfection itself - marvellous piece of raga-style power pop topped with an emotive Ham vocal.

Just wonderful! The reissue, a far more welcome release than any of the Beatles' current output, is joy itself.

And while we're on the subject of Power Pop, the great Roy Wood is 64 today. His protegees, Cheap Trick, lie in wait for me on Thursday.......

Chelsea

Ooooh, this was a bit special yesterday.

Fernando Torres claims he's not back to his best yet. So may whatever god opposing defences believe in help them when he's fully fit.

His second goal was one of the most sublime finishes I've ever seen. El Nino's precision curling shot was like threading a needle at the first attempt. True genius.

Easily our best result of the season so far, and yet Torres wasn't man of the match. That accolade, in my humble opinion, goes to Lucas Levia.

In much the same way the Skoda car was much derided until new management at Volkswagon turned the brand into a super-efficient motor, Lucas, under Hodgson's regime, has gone from zero to hero.

There were signs last season that the Brazilian was getting his game together, but yesterday he looked the finished article. Lucas thrives on doing all the dirty midfield jobs no one else wants, or has the balls to do. Single-handedly he nullified an expensive and creative Chelsea midfield trio to doing pretty much nothing. By being a pest - throwing a tackle, a leg, a body in the way of anything Chelsea threw at us - he gave the likes of Gerrard, Maxi, Merelies and particularly Kuyt so much time and space to express themselves.

This is a step forward for the team, nothing more. I still think Hodgson's too cautious for his own good, but when we're getting results like this I'll happily admit my erroneous judgment!!

dream

A dream come true. Jayne's old acoustic guitar was taking up too much space and didn't stand a chance in my hands.

glasses

I learn something new every day, and today's truth was that my Jayne wears glasses. Well, she's supposed to, but had mislaid her pair for nearly a year.

New haircut, new glasses....whatever next????? I'm eager to find out.......

Bolton

Nice to see Rafa's still got his Scouse accent and senseayuma.......

Talking a lot of sense there, but also massively contradicting himself. I think Rafa lost the plot for his last season at our place, in much the same way that Roy's not gotten the plot yet.

Back to back wins is a welcome relief. Bolton are the ugliest alehouse side we'll face all season, but we rode our luck a little and got a crucial win.

gift

Today, after weeks and weeks of badgering her, Jayne got her hair cut. And doesn't she look gift????


I said to her I wanted to be able to see and kiss the back of a bare neck. She happily obliged!

And because it was a home-haircut, guess who had to hoover up all that discarded blond hair from the floor?

Jayne likes it, I like it and the kids don't. Oh well, what a pity, never mind.......

pointless

I went for another of my pointless wanders of old railway stations / yards today. This time I went to find the remains of the vast Fazakerley sidings yard that closed back in 1987.

Here's a 1977 pic of a Wigan-Liverpool Exchange train passing the foot crossing at Fazakerley.

And here's the same view today. Bit different isn't it?

I found very, very little to say there was once an engine yard / goods depot here, and we're only talking just over 20 years ago. The masses of railway sidings were dug up, and replaced by a "country park" of sorts.

Fazakerley sidings are very "blink and you'll miss it", unlike my mapping of the approaches to Exchange, of which a fair amount of evidence is still there to prove its' existence. British Rail really did a hatchet job on Fazak.

knackered

I took our Jay out yesterday because he's on half-term like just about every kid in the country.

We took the footy down to Sefton Park, then Calderstones Park (where the below photo was taken) and rather than take him for his regular meal at McDonalds, we came back to the flat for some ham butties...well, he ate them, I didn't!

I've been to McDonalds a couple of times this year and have had the misfortune to try some of their food. It's shit.

Me and Jayne went to one next to Walton prison last weekend. I think I'd prefer the prison food to be honest. The meal was just full of sugar. I'd bought one of these veggie wraps and the chilli sauce was like treacle. Not nice.

Anyway, after dinner with Jay, I took him on the beach near me. It was very, very windy and the tide was right in. See the sand blowing up the beach?

I think he was nice and knackered after all that exercise? Recommended for boisterous six-year olds!

Scouse

Recently, it's been reported that in an attempt to save money, three London councils have bandied together to provide certain services. So bearing this in mind, it's not inconceivable that the below image might never happen.......

I'd love to know where the actual cut-off point between being in Liverpool and not being in Liverpool is? It doesn't stop at the council boundary that's for sure.

Yet the area of Greater Liverpool is governed by three separate local councils - Liverpool, Sefton and Knowsley.

Sefton is a pain of a borough geographically. Because the Southport end of the boundary has never, ever reconciled itself with the "Scouse" end of the boundary. Yet councillors in both areas vote on each other's services and it's caused no end of friction for 35 years.

So the possibility of Crosby / Bootle / Aintree / Maghull joining an enlarged city council area isn't impossible. In fact, in time, I think it's inevitable?