Early on in the life of this blog, I wrote about getting to Liverpool by way of Wigan. I was thinking about that again today when another memory crossed my mind.
At the end of my day in Liverpool, I headed back to Manchester. My friend in Liverpool saw me back to the train at Lime Street Stn. and made sure I got on the right one back to Manchester where I was staying with a (different) friend. It was now dark outside and I sat at a seat with a table and was writing in my notebook for my trip diary. A little girl was sitting across from me, small, blonde and about four years old. She was traveling to Bradford with her dad. Her name was Etty.
Her father seemed to be more interested in sharing his tins of ale with someone he knew or maybe just met down the car further and Etty was left to her own devices. He would call up now and then to see if she was ok. She was curious about my journal, seeing me writing and came over and we chatted.
I let her “write” in the back of it while we discussed our journeys. Her father was an avid Everton football team supporter and had her trained well. Once or twice he’d call down to her, “Etty! What’s ManU (Manchester United)?’ and she’d correctly and automatically reply, as required, “shite, Dad!!” This satisfied her dad who was probably showing off his properly raised daughter to his mates. He didn’t seem concerned that she was talking to a stranger but I don’t suppose I look very dangerous.
Etty and I enjoyed each other’s company until Manchester Picadilly where I got off the train and took a cab back to where I was staying. Bradford was another hour or more journey from there.
My fiance is not a sporty type person and does not follow football though his dad does. The rivalries between supporters of local teams can be quite fierce. Liverpool and Everton vie for the loyalties of the Mersey area. Manchester United and Manchester City are the two main teams not so far away from Liverpool. I sometimes wondered if I would enjoy a football match but I’ve never taken the opportunity and since G. isn’t a fan at all, I don’t suppose I will.