Yes, I’m really that far behind, and have no idea whether City will escape relegation this season.
The whole day of the Leicester game was one of the most nervous I’ve ever been, 13.5.12 included, which I know will sound daft to football philistines.
The prospect of jubilant Scousers if we mucked it up was terrifying, and I skipped the usual pre-match nerve settlers on a stunning Manchester night.
Possibly the earliest I’ve been at a match, and I still fail to bring you a report on the Lager offer on Colin Bell Level 3.
The bloke next to me said it.
“Don’t shoot Vinnie” (Google it)
Stuff your European cups, this was as good as it gets.
So good I gave the Port St Beer House another chance, high prices and familiarity forgotten (see report from Chris Dyson).
It looked lovely. Perhaps the Piccadilly Spoons would have looked lovely that night.
A night like that calls for a Squawk of delight, of course, and Squawk Pavo was a joy.
Reading a tearful RAWK, the Liverpool supporters blog, was even more fun.