Mi Mam came to Anfield with me. Whenever I dream of Anfield it is always looks like the centre court at wimbledon (though I have never been to wimbledon). Anyway, it was against Manchester United (it always is). The lights were out, bar one at the Kop end (we were sat in the anny road. The mancs kicked off regardless, and took a two goal lead, much to the rest of the grounds derision. The ref allowed it as well. The first was through Dudeks legs – he took some right stick from the Anny Road for that one, before pointing out that he couldn’t actually see it as it was dark. Fair point, but he still should have saved it.
Then my mother was accused of shouting ‘Lanky streak of piss’ at someone as they walked past us to get the pies in (it wasn’t even half time).
Then the location switched to Coney Street in York. Mi Mam had disappeared as well. I tried to walk down Coney Street, but as I turned the corner where Kebab man/the william hill used to be, I was met with a Tunnel opening, starting where the gap used to be. And then a rumbling. And then a train. I managed to get round the corner sharpish, where I met Peter Cook.
He proceeded to tell me all about the fact that York now had an underground (which I had already remembered, because I have dreamt about this before). He told me we had to get on it to get to the other side of York (i.e. the clifton/bootham side). So we got on a bus at the Castle, that took us round the roundabout, down to the barbican, and back round to the castle, pulling up on the opposite side of the road.
Next thing I know I am in the station, which is basically like the tunnels for the New York Metro – very dark, damp, and very wide. There is no platform, just some fold away chairs next to the rails. A sprinter train goes past. There is a big sign on the wall for the york tube map, but I can’t read it.
The train arrives and we get on (its like a metropolitan line train but not as wide). There are no York tube maps on it, just the Oxford underground (?!?!?) and London’s.
For some reason then I was back at my old Weir Road flat, sat on the landing, which is in fact like the gallery of some theatre.
Kenny Dalglish appears on the landing – I told him I had dreamt about him, and he walked off looking very worried. At this point the hall below turns into a stage, and Dalglish enters, kicking comedy sized footballs (like in the new Times sport adverts).
Suddenly I am also joined by an audience. People start singing the ‘Fields of Anfield Road’, but they are singing it wrong. So me and James Martin, (a cook who appears on Ready Steady Cook who has been sat next to me through this) stand up and sing it at the top of our voices, but badly out of tune.