"As I sat by the Liverpool museum, overlooking our Great River, the cold December chill made my old bones shiver. I sat there quietly recalling, my time as a young kid, way back in the 60's of the things that I once did, me, and my best mate, would come to the Pier Head, it was a bus ride from my home in Kirkby, the place would be dead. Our mission was to catch pigeons...the pure racers, not the Scraggs, we caught them so easily, and stuffed them into our duffle bags. With so much to do, Sunday's always were fun, and we both loved hearing the loud bang, of the One O'clock gun. We'd "bunk," onto the ferry, in the distance was Camell Lairds, then back across The Mersey, watched over by our two Liver Birds. We always had a laugh, playing down by the Dock, then we'd agree that it was time to go home, after a glance at the big Royal Liver Clock. On the bus back up the East Lanc's, on the 44d, then jump off at Moorgate Road, my best mate, and me. In our lofts, we'd share out the pigeons, our catch of the day, eventually out would come the football, until dark we would all play. It was cool being teenagers, with no troubles, or strife, looking back at it all now....it was the best time of our life!"