5. 5th January 2024. It's on

The game's on then. We had the amber weather warning yesterday for overnight (amber or yellow, who really knows and what's the difference?), tons of snow apparently. I scoffed at the idea, we never get snow on the banks of the Mersey.

Here's our garden:

Definitely snow. More than usual. And at ten o'clock this morning, just after LFC had announced that there'd be another meeting to see whether the game could go ahead at noon, it started snowing again. Then stopped. Then started again. Which made it likely that there'd be no game. Which kind of ruins the rhythm of the day when you've woken with anticipation and suddenly have no idea what you'll be doing now. 

Which is an incredibly minor complaint when you're sat in Bootle and are literally at home, while others have travelled far and wide for this, many setting out before the noon meeting, many more already here (our Charlie came over yesterday, stayed at my mum's, went record shopping - welcome to the age old addiction). 

But. Noon meeting. The game's on. The rain will come (a real rain will come and wipe the snow from the streets).

Five points ahead of Arsenal, two games in hand, a Manchester United that are really struggling to face, with a debt from last year to be repaid (they ended our season with that FA Cup game - we win that and we win a quadruple).

There's a league to be won.

In other news - bought a fine Islay single malt from Aldi yesterday, very well reviewed, describes itself as peaty and smoky. Had a taste. Might take a few sips to get into. J described as like drinking a bonfire. She might have a point. She can't even look at the bottle now. I'll get my taste buds round it in a day or two.

The curry though? A Rogan Josh that made my eyes sweat, and may well have destroyed my blood pressure forever. My curry days, it appears, are now far behind me. 

Listening? The Waterboys 'Room To Roam' on newly purchased, remastered, vinyl. Two 180gm discs, playing at 45rpm. It's an album that lives in mine and J's life; it's our last days in Hull and first in Leeds. The world thought it a disappointment on release, following on from Fisherman's Blues, felt it lacked substance. The world was wrong; it's gorgeous, and clearly the album Mike Scott needed to make at that point. 

Memory and warmth. Built into the grooves, translated into the lives of two people he's never met. That's all you can do, send your message out to the world, tell them where you are, who you are - at this precise moment - and see who gets it.