Hillsborough

I'm not a football fan, never have been, never will be, its egg chasing for me every time. But the Hillsborough disaster, like Aberfan is one of those moments in time when you know where you were and what you were doing when it happend.

20 years ago yesterday, I know where I was, I was in London with Noel, celebrating his 30th Birthday with a weekend away, a rare treat for us in those pre-children, still skint days. It was a big adventure for us country folk to venture to the big city and we were having a wonderful time, until we came back to the hotel on the Saturday evening and watched the dreadful events that had unfolded on that afternoon in Sheffield. Noel was worried because his cousins were avid Nottingham Forest fans and were at the match, we know now that no Forest fans were affected but at the time it was awful not knowing. But they were affected because they were there and they still don't like to talk about it now 20 years later.

I have watched the news coverage of yesterday's memorial with a lump in my throat and a tear very close to my eye (its my age and I get like that over stuff these days), and still can't understand how something like that could have been allowed to happen in a "civilised" country. I confess I didn't realise the controversey which still surrounds that day and I was shocked when I followed a link to a memorial site, at how young many of the victims were, the youngest only 10 years old. I was even more surprised when watching the news that Erin had no idea of what had happened, you forget that the youngsters don't seem to have the social history that you acquire with age.

RIP the 96.