Remembrance

Today is a dark day in my life. No matter where I am or who I am with, my feet and mouth stop working and I pray silence for a couple of minutes.

I starkly remember the day of 15th April 1989. I was all dressed up in my entire Liverpool kit (including boots!) surrounded by my pictures of Beardsley, Barnes and McMahon, my Dalglish and Thompson autographs and any other paraphenalia I owned. Sat in my living room watching Grandstand, nervous excitement tingling through me as the Mighty Reds took on Clough's beautiful Forest team.

I remember it clearly now. 3.05pm Des Lynam reported something had happened at Hillsborough to stop the game, initially fearing overcrowding or crowd trouble. TV rights allowed them to show some very non-football footage as people clamoured around - even the TV studio didn't know how to explain what was happening. What took place for me was a very dark afternoon indeed, glued to the radio as the events unfolded on national news.

I went to Anfield 4 years later to interview Brian Hall for a school essay I was writing on the disaster. Magnanimous and eternally positive as he is, we didn't delay too much on the subject, and my mind fell back to the horrific images of the day I had spent hours photocopying in Birmingham Central Library. It still hurts me to this day. I will only link to one image in this post here.

I've been to a Hillsborough service at Anfield and there is an incredible sense of community, of reflection, of love, and of perserverance. It's a unique feeling that I have never experienced before, despite passings in my own family. I can only imagine the ridiculous and vacuous feelings the families have this time of year.

My thoughts and love are with you forever. Your children, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters and friends will never walk alone.