The best smell in the world!

Posted: April 24, 2011 in Uncategorized
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Across the Mersey

Oil, shit, and fish n’ chips… that’s what the  Mersey smells like! It might sound rank to you, but it’s the best smell in the world to me.  There’s nowhere on earth with a smell quite like it.

All right, I haven’t been everywhere in world, or even anywhere in the world, for that matter! (Except for in my dreams, and through the books I read.. oh and north Wales!).. but I guarantee that the smell of the Mersey is unique.  It’s the worst smell in the world and best smell in the world, all at the same time.  And even though I want to explore every corner of this earth, I know I will always return to this exact spot on the dock, and I’ll be home… with the seagulls shitting on me and the boats tooting at me as they sail to far away places.

I’m not going to be like the Beatles, who wrote loads of songs about their wonderful Liverpool as if it was the best city on the planet,  and then as soon as they could get out of the place they all f@cked off to their penthouse apartments in New York, and their 12 bedroom  mansions in London.

I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be out of here as fast a fart from my arse if I had half the chance; standing on top of Table Mountain in South Africa, snorkelling with the angel fish in the Red Sea, and even buying 12 bedroom mansions in London with swimming pools the size of the Mersey! But I’d always know where my real home was… here with me ma (especially when she gets rid of the whiskey bottle).

Well.. maybe I’d move  out to a posher place, like Cheshire, where the footy players live with their dead fit wives.. me ma would be so happy, that she’d forget about the whiskey, and it wouldn’t bother her anymore.. the whiskey wouldn’t be able to find her in the Cheshire countryside.  She would be too busy tending to her dead big garden with the roses and daffodils.  She’d be smiling through the kitchen window at me with her pinny on while I practiced footy in the garden the size of a footy pitch, ready for when I’m playing in defence for Liverpool.  Her lines on her face would be gone, as she cooked up proper dinners for me when I came home from school, like scouse with beetroot, or sausage and corned beef hash (Big, fat, proper sausages, not those skinny posh ones with the green bits in!).  Everything would be perfect, as long as I can still get into Liverpool and sit right here, by the dock, with my fishing rod.. next to the best (and the worst) smell in the world!!


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