I got three books from the library - Briggs' Age of Improvement; Hearder's Europe in the C19th, and Marx and Engels' Communist Maniesto.
Piccadilly Sport was nearly all City, but who cares. There's a forty five thousand crowd at Maine Road, not bad for a Second Division game - not bad for a first division, come to think of it. There's a second half commentary on City, who are leading 5-0. I said at half past two that if City go up, United will win the Cup.
Going up, going up, going up. Denis Tueart is having difficulty getting his words out...but reckons there's still time for City to throw away a five goal lead. I wish I had gone now, I was thinking of doing so, but couldn't be bothered.
I turned off the radio and on the telly, to see all the City fans on the pitch. United won at QPR.
I listened to Piccadilly Sport - and also Radio Two and Manchester, it's nearly all City. It's true after all - Billy McNeill is superhuman - he was on both Piccadilly and Manchester at the same time.
I watched the News. A stand caught fire at Bradford, killing at least forty people. It would have been worse if there was a fence...it's now got me worrying about Old Trafford.
I watched Match of the Day. There was no music, and Jimmy Hill wore a black tie.
I mowed half the lawn, then Matth took over so that I could change my bed and that while listening to Kid Jensen. I decided to lean out of the bedroom window and hurl abuse at Matth down in the garden. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the sunlight catch the edge of a car. Instinctively, I glanced over in the direction of the car. I just happened to notice it was outside Paul McGrath's house, and it looked like a silver Sierra. "I wonder if that's Kev's?" I asked myself. Then, "No, don't be an idiot." Eventually I went out to Church and as I rounded the corner, I noted that it was Kevin's. "Aha," thinks I "just wait til I see Judy tomorrow." On my way home I noticed that he had gone.
Over tea, the family got chatting. Mummy was asking if Ollie had been keeping me up to date on the latest prices the touts are asking for Cup Final tickets. I replied that I hadn't really been speaking to Ollie, and I added that no doubt he'd be full of the baptism. So Mummy asked me who was being baptised. I said Paul McGrath's son. Pauline said it had seemed fairly quiet outside his house as she went past. She then added that she had seen a fella walking down the drive in leather trousers, and presumed he must have been a United footballer.
"Well," I said, "Kevin Moran's car was parked outside."
"Was that the silver one?" asked Pauline. I said yes and she said that he had got into it. Meanwhile, Mummy, Daddy, and Matth were kind-of semi-amazed at the way nothing escapes the notice of Pauline and me!
I watched the News. They showed the Bradford fire, and the memorial service at the cathedral. The whole city is in mourning, not surprising, considering that there are fifty two dead and eighteen unaccounted for.
Most of my set of people were talking about the Bradford fire. It was horrific the way it burnt down in four and a half minutes flat. It has much coverage in the Guardian as the Brighton Bomb. Of course, apart from the sheer tragedy, the horror, and the sympathy, it does make you think of yourself in the same position. Okay, Old Trafford is not wooden, but, unlike Bradford, it as a safety fence around the pitch, making escape near impossible.
At half past one I went to choir. It's an absolute shambles, but who really cares!
After some Italian homework I went out to school en voiture. Very soon the music evening started. We sang 'Now Is The Month of Maying' and 'Sing Me And Chant It' both by Thomas Morley, and both of which I hate, and sandwiched in between was something about pleasure, by Thomas Weelkes, which is just about bearable. I then listened to Andrea play some Mozart accompanied by Judy. I then went to the Common Room and waited for the latest football. Honest to god, it wasn't worth it. Watford were leading 2-0 after fifteen minutes.
By the time the choir went on again it was four-nil. The 'Hey Jude' was very pleasant, and the 'Che farò senza Euridice' by Gluck was so beautiful I was in tears.
I really mustn't have gone to many choir practices, because I have no memory of the Morley/Weelkes, and no memory of learning the Gluck...
When I got home I learnt United had lost five-one. I don't know who scored, and to be candid, I couldn't give two fucks about the result.
A few people (but not many) have been sarky about 5-1, but most people aren't bothered. I broke my mug in Pure Maths. Seeing that I was really upset, Cliffie was really sympathetic.
At lunch I went to Speech Day choir. We sang Tallis's Cannon, and Handels "And the Glory of the Lord." We might also do Gershwin's "Summertime"
I went to a Committee meeting. Sr. E and Mrs Q are considering introducing slightly more fashionable shoes for Sixth Formers. We had the worst, most embarrassing, most unfashionable uniform in the whole country, maybe even the world...
As soon as I left the school, sod's law began to apply, and the rain really chucked it down. I was absolutely soaked by the time I reached the bus station, and to compound my soakedness, I narrowly missed the 277. I waited for the 264, as it arrived the rain visibly eased off. It started again chucking it down by the time I stepped off the bus. I walked up Woodhouse Lane, and had got fairly far up, when who should drive past in the opposite direction, but Paul McGrath...and he smiled at me - mind you, I looked pretty hysterical soaked to the marrow!
I heard the chart. I was dead chuffed to hear that United have gone in. But I was pigsick when I heard that dreadful Everton record three places above it. It's so awful it makes me ashamed to be a football fan. I reckon Everton are going to win the cup, and I don't really care. I flicked through the Radio and TV Timeses. "Everton are going to win the Cup" proclaim the Radio Times.
I played my two Man Utd records. I do like 'We All Follow Man. United', especially the brass twiddly bits. Hey, I've just thought...I can tell the girls that I live near someone who just happens to be in the charts, who I just happened to see today!
I watched the Cup Winners Cup Final, Everton v Rapid Vienna. In the first half it was all Everton. If they play like that on Saturday, United will be whitewashed. The second half was more a match, yet Everton scored. The final score was 3-0. If it wasn't for the fact that they are playing United on Saturday, I would wish them to win the treble, just to cock a snook at Liverpool. At the end of the programme, they played the Everton song. The song is good, but then, it is a combination of Sousa & Offenbach.
Off school today because it's Ascension Day. Not bad!
Lots of build-up in the local print and broadcast media for the Cup Final...
Andre said that a friend of her Mum's was round at the Albistons' house the other day for coffee. Apparently, when Gary Bailey had his tickets nicked, all the rest of the team were really chuffed, because they can't stand him.
School dragged. It's awful really. It's ten to five now. In twenty four hours either Robbo or Ratfeatures will be going up the stairs to collect the Cup.
The weather was nice - indeed we were out on the chapel lawn at lunchtime in just shirt sleeves. It is a pity it had to be spoilt by the fact that both Andre and I are dying of colds. Andrea's invented a new word - trisexual. She was annoying me slightly shes suddenly becoming an Everton fan. Oh well. If Everton win, and she starts bragging. I'll just tell her I'm definitely unimpressed by her habit of changing sides when convenient. And if United win...well, she suddenly becomes a United fan again.
Pages of media build-up to the Cup Final
Part 3 contains a Cup Final, more celebrity spotting, and another football disaster.
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