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It has been warm. I’m a sweaty little man, but that’s just a failing of my glands, and it’s bad form to complain about it being warm.
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Lots of traffic about. I can believe that it’s still less than usual, but I’ve looking back and forth along the queues of motor cars at the traffic lights in campy disbelief, like, where are you all going. I also glared at a driver I saw fiddling with his mobile phone.
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Some cycling. Went quite a long way to see my da, and explored some of the off-road cycle paths – they’re quite good, aren’t they.
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Time for some observations about the novelty of living near a football stadium where, finally, some matches have been played.
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I walked past Martin Keown. He hadn’t donned his mandatory mask yet – not sure I’d’ve recognised him if he had – but, even so, I wasn’t completely sure it was Martin Keown until, later, I searched Twitter to see people complaining about Martin Keown’s punditry.
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Yesterday, there was a drone buzzing about overhead. This meant I could tune into the BBC and see that the Morrisons car park was empty so I wouldn’t need to queue to buy tomato juice.
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Some fans gathered to watch the team coaches (more coaches than usual, for distancing, I think) arrive and depart. Clearly they, like me, were excited by the Van Hool Astromegas, Mercedes-Benz Tourismos and Plaxton Elite is, not the famous masked athlete passengers.
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😍 Liverpool.