Clare called – did I want to meet her and Woody for a stroll along the Mersey? Yes, of course. I took my bike down, and met them between the Parkway and the Water Park. Woody hadn’t really been down there before, and seemed to really enjoy it. The first pint at Jackson’s Boat was a struggle. “Bettsy’s friend,” said Tom, “calls this ‘The Pint of Treacle,’ because it’s so hard to drink.”
We carried on up towards the Bowling Green to watch the Ireland Australia game, and the treacle soon thawed. It was a tremendous game of rugby. At half time Tom and I nipped out to smoke. My bike was under the guard of two burly police officers. Policing is good at the bottom of Beech Road.
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