Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Wild Flowers at Hillsborough

I remember the day of the Hillsborough disaster as though it was yesterday. I was climbing at Tremadog on a perfect spring day. I can even remember the routes we did- Hogmanny Hangover, Merlin and One Step in the Clouds. As a football fan brought up on Merseyside I was keen to find out between climbs, how my team-Everton- were getting on in the other-forgotten-semi final that day and kept asking bemused climbers if they knew the football scores...they didn't...middle class gits!

Driving home at twilight, the Moelwyns were particularly stunning. Dusted in salmon pink against a rainbow sky. On the way home, we called in on my Scouse friend Mark- who should have been climbing with us that day- and he looked grey when he answered the door.

There on TV I watched the terrible aftermath.

The next day I picked wild flowers from the Welsh hedgerows and drove to Anfield with my family were we laid our little posy with the mountain of flowers, scarves and photographs and just stood there in a stunned murmer.

There but for the grace of God went I for many a time I had been caught up in the chaos which sprang from 60.000 people funneling into and out of a football ground. Another day, another time it could have been my Dad, my mates or myself.

God bless the 96 and their familes.

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