Greg, Adele and Joel of Bloom

3 months ago   |   Words: Phil Bridges   |   Photography: Phil Bridges

As Birkenhead bathes in the low March sun, broken liners await repair in the adjacent Cammell Laird shipyard. These sleeping giants are a fitting symbol of restoration as I near Bloom, the new home to mental health charity The Open Door Centre.

Opened in February, following seven years in Liscard, the charity’s new home is a cocoon of wellbeing. On entering the muralled building, muted dream-pop soundtracks bubbling curry and a wood burner crackles in a communal cafe area. Breakout spaces and therapy sheds are accessible towards the back of the tastefully renovated warehouse space. It’s the antithesis to sterile offices under flyovers and suburban clinics you might normally associate with therapy. It is 11am and the venue has just opened for a day of delivering mental health support to its 15-30 year old members. Gathered on a bench are Adele, Joel and Greg, three amiable 20 somethings, who channel their respective mental health experiences into full time roles at the charity. Over the course of our interview, The Open Door’s mantra of being a charity by young people for young people is clear.

Before we delve into a serious discussion around lived experience, the challenges young people face and therapy, I ask the interviewees to confirm their names. Joel deadpans “Joel Dipple. Nipple with a D” – propelling his colleagues into a collective belly laugh. “I genuinely never made that connection,” Greg chortles. The exchange is emblematic of how The Open Door houses vital conversations in accessible surrounds. It’s a Russian doll of depth – therapy punctuated with humour and warmth. Working on a free membership format, the charity supports young people feeling down, low, stressed or anxious, through its Computerised Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CCBT) tool ‘Bazaar: A Marketplace For The Mind’. Visitors are guided through the eight week training with someone of a similar age and character – providing a perfect blend of human interaction and accessible online intervention.

Adele Iddison, 25, Wirral, centre co-ordinator

PB: What are your own experiences around mental health

AI: It probably all started when I was in my early teens – a bit of anxiety and depression around my brother going to the army. It wasn’t taken seriously though. It was just seen as something to kind of shake off. But it developed into this horrible depression that I tried to ignore at first until I went to uni and it all came to a head. I dropped out of uni and just felt really low with no direction. The pressure of getting work added to it. 

PB: What has helped you?

AI: I think just talking to people about it, because that was my main issue – I just never spoke to anyone about it, I think because of that experience when I was younger and it not being taken seriously. It kind of shut me up as I got older. Once I did speak out about it, how I actually really felt, which was worse than what people thought, that’s when I was taken seriously.

This job keeps me well. Helping other people has really helped me. It’s helped with my confidence as well. Also, just making sure that I’m with people. Making sure that I’m at least doing something that I enjoy at least once a week – having that balance and making sure that I have structure.

PB: What challenges do you think young people face?

AI: I think the main challenge is not being taken seriously, and that worry of “If I do tell people, will I be taken seriously? Will people want to help or will they just think I’m weird?” You know, all the stigma around it as well – I think that’s one of the main challenges. And again, finding that support. There is a lot out there but it’s more about trying to find the right kind of support. It’s very clinical, which can work for some people but a lot of people need that feeling of being able to approach people. I think that’s a challenge for young people as well.

PB: How can The Open Door Centre help young people?

AI: We’re a non-clinical service. We have the volunteer programme, so we allow people to be paired with people that have that relatability factor to them. All the volunteers have had their own experiences too, including staff too. I think that’s a really big factor that comes into it at the centre. The course that we do as well is bespoke – there’s no course out there like it. It’s unique to the centre as well, and the building with the culture side I think is presented in a way that’s accessible and creative.

Greg Edwards, 29, Wirral, operations manager

PB: What are your own experiences around mental health

GE: I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in my early twenties. It’s something I’ve always had but it became worse as I got older. Thankfully, I got treatment and support when I was living in London and my recovery started from there, and it’s been pretty good since.

PB: What has helped you?

GE: In terms of keeping well, I think with a lot of mental health issues it’s about the journey you go through. So, learning a lot about yourself, learning about your own resilience, your own trigger points. I think that’s quite important. Keeping well to me is all about self awareness and sort of trying to nip things in the bud before they become a big problem again or blow out of proportion. Living quite a busy, active life suits me and my personality. I do a lot of endurance sport events and things like that to keep me busy and keep my mind healthy. I also do a lot of music and other creative things outside of work which stops me from having too much time to worry about other things, which seems to work.

PB: What challenges do you think young people face?

GE: I would probably say the digital age has caused problems in the sense people are always able to communicate and not necessarily in a healthy way. We see a lot of issues around things like cyber bullying. You know, in the past, if you were bullied at school and you went home, the bullying stopped. Now, if you’re experiencing bullying, it can continue online, in Whats App groups for example.

There’s a lot more acceptance around mental health issues now, which is a really positive thing but I don’t think the support networks, these statutory services, have caught up with the demand, and I think the expectation of young people being able to access support immediately isn’t there. That’s a real obstacle, and I think it causes quite a lot of tension for young people.

PB: How can The Open Door Centre help young people?

GE: One of our key ambitions, and something we’ve always met, is to have no waiting lists. Offering immediate and effective support in a creative, innovative environment is kind of central to what we do. It doesn’t have to be complicated – it’s not anything secretive. It’s all about having a person-centred approach to working with people where we respond to their individualism and help them through their journey in a way that’s compassionate and supportive. Using clinical tools but in a way that’s engaged with other people. It hasn’t got the same formal approach as in some clinical services.

What we’re trying to do really is offer that choice and that opportunity to people if they want to, or they’re not feeling great. They can just come along, sign up with us, and get involved. We’ve been gradually able to support more people each year. Now, moving to the Bloom Building, we’re able to more than triple our support, which is a great step for the charity but hopefully it will help the local area more and help young people more as we see more people.

Joel Dipple, 24, Stafford, venue co-ordinator

PB: What are your own experiences around mental health?

JD: My mental health deteriorated after the death of my best mate. I don’t think it was anything you could see as long term depression or anxiety, but the grief from that was something I bottled up for probably around six months and it came to a head in a series of panic attacks. I then sought grief counselling – for a little while, which helped. I always found for me personally, the art of conversation helped me get through that stage and helps me to this day in terms of coming to terms with what happened.

What I thought would have been great for me at the time was if there was a space like this where I was, where there was a more welcoming environment than something that was clinical. I probably would have sought help far earlier than I did. Now being able to work in an environment which is so welcoming and supportive of others is something that I am quite proud to be in this environment, hopefully helping folk. Even if it is, for me, just being on the coffee shop side of things and making it a welcoming experience for people. It’s great.

PB: What challenges do you think young people face?

JD: From my own experiences, knowing where and who to talk to. I think as young people, we are far more aware of the conversation of mental health and it is far more open, but there is still always the struggle of not wanting to maybe burden friendship groups or close people with mental health issues and not knowing where a conversation can actually take place around it.

PB: How can The Open Door Centre help young people?

JD: Having a space like this where, as Greg was saying, there’s no waiting list and a conversation can happen with someone who’s trained and relatable is an amazing thing.

bloombuilding.co.uk 

Shaun Whalley: Football Focused

4 weeks ago   |   Words: Ste Turton   |   Photography: Phil Bridges

As we sit down for breakfast at a converted barn just off the Knowsley Expressway, I realise it’s been five years since I’ve seen Shaun Whalley in person. A close school friend and old drinking partner, the talented winger was always good company. With a turn of phrase as sharp as his Cruyff, we’d bonded as younger men over the usual gear. Sports, betting, The Strokes; we had a lot in common, including our addictive personalities.

Whalley was a fun-loving, infectious kid with a wild streak. Not a Gazza sort, or tragic George Best figure. Just a loveable rogue, who’s pace on the pitch got him paid, while his over-zealousness away from the field, at times, hindered his professional progress. But I’d heard good things. Mutual friends had told me the Shrewsbury forward had completely ironed out his old issues.

As the coffee and convo flows on a chilly Wednesday morning in Cheshire, it’s clear my old pal is in a good place.

“This is the best I’ve ever been doing. I’ve been playing in League One for four years now,  and done well every season. We nearly got up last year.”

With spells at a variety of teams, ranging from Accrington to Warrington, Shaun’s time at Shrewsbury has been the most consistent of his career. It’s no coincidence it has arrived after finding peace in his private life.

Never a regular drinker, Whalley was notorious for going hard on the occasions he did cut loose; often leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. I’d been involved in many of those outings. Ruined furniture at house parties. Hotels turned upside down. Cleaned-out drinks cabinets. Young seeds being sewn, you could say. But not an ideal look for a footballer, or actions for a footballer’s friends to be encouraging. Married last summer to partner Jessica and now a father to four-year old Jude, the wild nights have long been benched.

“It’s so hard when you’re making the same mistakes over and over. I try and explain it to people, me mar and that. They like a drink and I think they find it hard that I hardly bother now. I feel like they think I’m not having fun. I try to explain to her that once I stop drinking, I don’t even think about it. It’s not in my thoughts. I don’t go boozers no more, and that’s not even out of effort. I’m just not interested”.

In 2015 when playing for Luton, Whalley received a wake-up call, on the booze front, that topped any of his previous warnings. After the team’s end of season awards ceremony, Shaun had been arrested for his alleged involvement in an assault. It was claimed his teammate, Ricky Miller, had head-butted a taxi-driver during a drunken, late-night ride.

“I sobered up quick, sat in that cell all day, getting questioned. What the fuck had gone on?”

“You know me, Ste. I’ve never been a fighter. I knew it wouldn’t have been me who’d head-butted a fella but at the same time, I couldn’t remember. I didn’t have a clue. Could have been? I just thought, “I’m in the shit here”.

Although never charged over the incident, Miller was also later cleared in court, the experience triggered change.

“I spoke to a lawyer. He said they could have nicked me, just for being there. My contract was up at Luton and I was just thinking, what am I gonna do here? I didn’t wanna drop down the leagues again. I had bills to pay. When I was younger I didn’t have any responsibility, it was just me, going at it.”

When a move to Shrewsbury presented itself that summer, Shaun and his partner jumped at the chance of a fresh start. They haven’t looked back. Together for eight years before last year’s wedding, the gratitude he feels towards Jessica’s positive influence is clear when he talks about his wife.

“With her being older than me, she’s always been more mature. She never really drank, either. So I wouldn’t. I guess she’s just bullied me straight,” he reflects with a smile.

While not strictly tee-total, Shaun’s alcohol intake is kept to the rarest occasions. Where once he’d revel in the carnage of a binge, he seems relieved those incident filled sessions are a thing of the past.

“We went to Dublin after a Saturday match for our Christmas doo. I had a good few bevvys, but no incidents, just a few drinks. Got some food. To wake up in the apartment knowing I’d not done anything stupid was just the best thing. I was buzzing”.

With the bevvying boxed off, the conversation turns to another vice we’d both indulged in during our younger friendship. Like many footballers, Shaun found himself with a healthy wad in his pocket and endless, post-training afternoons to fill. Hours – and notes – would invariably be spent gambling.

“The thing was, I just didn’t care when I lost. Most people are pissed off and fuming when they’ve done a wage in. I was just like “sound, that’s gone now”. The girls working the counter couldn’t get their heads around my reaction to bets going down. But I found out later that’s more a sign of a problem than getting angry.”

With one in five addictive gamblers attempting suicide at some point in their lives, Shaun’s escape from what had become a destructive hobby was a major achievement. He again credits Jessica for playing a big part; checking his finances, checking-in on his whereabouts. Ultimately, it was Shaun’s shift in priorities and a determination to be better that lead to change. He says he still has a flutter at Cheltenham and Aintree, but it’s once a year. Like the drinking, it’s controlled.

“I used to think I was a big sports fan. I still love boxing and obviously watching some footy games, but I hardly watch anything else. I wasn’t really into the other sports, just gambling on them.”

Recently back from a lengthy absence through injury, did he have any anxieties over old habits creeping back up on him, while sidelined?

“I’m just in a totally different place now, I don’t get the opportunities to lose the plot. It wasn’t an injury where I’d been stuck at home, so I was still going into training. Getting in earlier, leaving later. I just go home, play with our Jude, watch a bit of telly, then we go asleep. Then it’s the next day.”

Finding structure and discipline hasn’t made Shaun any less fun to be around. Those Ray Liotta blue eyes that once hinted at Henry Hill madness still light up when he’s excited, but represent much calmer waters these days. As we gab about the latest Netflix releases and what new boxing podcasts he should be getting his head into, I’m reminded that our friendship was much more than the gambling and partying that so often defined it.

“You know, I’ll never say any of that was shit, I really enjoyed a lot of those times. But there comes a time, you’ve gotta pay bills. You’ve gotta grow up. And then they’re just memories.”

Whalley’s clearly changed for the better, but so it seems has his environment. With high profile stars such as Tottenham’s Danny Rose opening up on depression, and the FA taking a zero tolerance approach to players gambling on football, does the current locker room seem different to the atmospheres he experienced when coming through the ranks?

‘Completely. Some of the stuff that used to go on in the early days was just not the sort of thing you can get away with in a work place. People just get along and are more understanding of problems. There’ll be the odd talk of a golf bet, but a lot of the younger lads are too busy on social media. It’s much more relaxed.’

After scoring on his recent return to Shrewsbury’s starting lineup after four months absence, the current version of Shaun Whalley seems to have more to give to his club than at any time in his life. He’s been lucky to meet a partner that has helped him develop, but his own intelligence and introspection have also been vital in preventing a premature end to his Football League status.

As for the future? He’s hoping his experiences – coupled with his footballing nouse – will allow him the opportunity to help younger professionals from a position of leadership.

“I want to be a manager, one hundred percent. Football’s all I wanna do. It’s gonna be hard. There are a lot of people that want to manage and there’s not a job for everyone. I know that. I just feel like I could do it, I could be a good manager. I seem to get on with people in football. I’m easy going, I like to see other people’s point of view and where they’re at.”

There’s no doubting where Whalley’s at. After settling the bill, we laugh at the fact we’re leaving a quaint farm dishing out bacon butties and cuppas, rather than a pub or bookies serving up pints and bets, like the old days. There are plenty more positive days ahead for Shaun. On and off the pitch.

Photo Credit – AMA Sports Photo Agency

If you’re struggling with gambling issues, checkout https://www.gamcare.org.uk for help and advice.

Inner Space – Kieran Shudall

1 month ago   |   Words: Phil Bridges   |   Photography: Phil Bridges

As forties jazz fills a faux Parisian café on Lark Lane in Liverpool, I spy Kieran Shudall, through the window, bobbing animatedly, phone in hand, trying to locate me. The friendly Circa Waves singer exaggerates relief as he catches my eye. Five years ago Shudall ascended rapidly from building sites and stage-managing bands, to playing Glastonbury. His nostalgic anthems suggested a young scouser living a filmic indie dream. But by the band’s second album, 2017’s ‘Different Creatures’, his songs had become more introspective and Kieran talked publicly about the other side of being in a band: “Just because you have a great job doesn’t mean you can’t suffer mentally and I think it’s important for people to know that,” he told the BBC. With us almost comfortable on stools, hot drinks in hand, Kieran explains the unnaturalness of being so high and low before and after shows. “It can all be an anti-climax. You can come off stage after a big gig feeling a bit guilty like ‘Why aren’t we jumping around the dressing room, and drinking, like in the films? Then you’re back at your silent hotel room. Luckily, I was 26 when we got signed, so I can’t imagine what that must be like for an 18 year old.”

Kieran says Circa Waves was never intended as a live project. Having been in bands previously, he wished to focus on songwriting – releasing his recordings anonymously on the internet. “There are people who have to be on stage and I’ve never been like that.” I note he is a confident frontman. Sipping his coffee, Kieran explains this is learned, rather than innate. He says buried within the stage persona is an anxious kid, who was too nervous to even do presentations at college. “I avoided them like the plague, calling in sick, or asking to do a video. I literally couldn’t get up in front of the class.” He attributes his ability to function on public platforms now to both his wife Heather: “she is amazing” and practice. But there is always another challenge around the corner. “Being in a band, you’re constantly doing stuff out of your comfort zone. I’ve just performed on Sunday Brunch and national TV is terrifying for me. I worried about it for an entire week on tour, but luckily I had Heather who can build me up. Once I’ve done it, I’ll feel great because I’ve pushed myself to achieve something.”

“It’s funny, I was sat next to a bunch of actors who were also really nervous and I thought they’re anxious and they’re in films with Tom Hiddleston’. It affects everyone. You just learn to hide it. Confidence is a choice, you just decide to be confident.”

In his song ‘Out On My Own’ from ‘Different Creatures’, Kieran sings about walking ‘in the steps of the men that you grew up with. But maybe they’re better equipped at dealing with this’. I wonder how modern models of masculinity affect him, as both a touring musician and husband?

“My dad was an electrician, able to fix everything, he could plaster walls and paint the house, do all this kind of stuff and I’m a bit like ‘I can’t do any of that, I’m rubbish’. You almost want to be the sort of tough provider. But at the same time you have the new generation Z growing up knowing it’s ok to be open and sensitive. I feel us millennials are kind of caught in-between. We’re still trying to figure out what’s acceptable. There’s a lot of stuff on Netflix and in the media about being young, sensitive and transparent and that’s amazing. We didn’t have that when we were kids.”

In May, Circa Waves will take their new, more layered expressions to America. “Everything’s built up at a nice pace. Luckily for me, gigs don’t scare me anymore, the bigger the better in my mind, which is something that weirdly happened over time. I feel at home on stage now.”

With Kieran driven largely by the creative process, I wonder how he deals with the scrutiny from music critics? “I hate waiting for reviews and try not to read them as 90% of them will be positive and I’ll be focusing on the 10% that are bad. I guess that can be quite anxiety inducing. It’s frustrating as you can put everything into your work and someone can pick it apart in one sentence. The Guardian did a shit review of our second album but the NME loved it. You want everyone to like it but that’s not possible. Also, the more you put yourself out there commercially or the bigger you get, the more the cooler magazines tend to dislike you. It’s a tough balancing act. You gain bigger crowds but lose some of that critical credibility. It’s very hard to have both.” Kieran laughs: “Bands like Arcade Fire are a bit of an anomaly.” He continues: “I used to strive for both critical and commercial acclaim but now I just try to make stuff as big and as ambitious as possible.”

The Penny Lane resident goes on to explain that it’s also a fine line between artistic expression and keeping your current fans happy: “I don’t think it’s good for art when you try to cater entirely to your current fan base. With our new album, there’s been a lot of people saying ‘Why is there a piano?’ for example. But you have to evolve. You can’t make the same album six times. Imagine if The Beatles had done that? They basically went from a boy band to a psych band. Imagine if they’d had the production techniques of today! They would be having a ball making music now.”

I wind up the interview asking how Kieran would say he has changed in last five years since Circa Waves formed? “I’m 31 now and I was 26 when we started. While life is more complicated and there are more responsibilities, I certainly feel more settled in myself. I suppose most song writers are kind of sensitive on the inside, so I still have that part of me. I think coming home after being on a tour where thousands of people have been cheering you every night to just going to the pub with your mates and talking about telly and being like ‘Isn’t this beer nice’, just regular things really bring your mind back to earth.

“Whilst we’ve had success, we haven’t toured the world constantly, and have had time at home to readjust back to being just a normal person’. I love my house, I love my cats.”

 

Zuton Fever: Dave McCabe on working it out

2 months ago   |   Words: Ste Turton   |   Photography: Phil Bridges

Sundays have changed a bit for Dave McCabe. Straight from a gym session of spinning ‘and a load of weights’, the charismatic musician’s looking fresh, as he settles into a booth at Love & Rockets, Lark Lane, for a chat about The Zutons’ upcoming tour. With rehearsals booked for this evening and a potentially sweaty 90 minutes watching his title-chasing Liverpool this afternoon, it’s not what you’d call a traditional day of rest. Dave’s happy with the loaded schedule.

“The fitness helps your voice, it helps your brain. It’s not like I’m looking dead skinny and great. But I’m seeing a personal trainer twice, sometimes three times a week. Riding me bike into town. It helps, you know, doing bits.”

Besides one fundraising gig three years back for the tragic loss of close friend Kristian Ealey, The Zoots haven’t been on stage together for a decade. Kicking-off ten UK headline gigs this month to celebrate the fifteen-year release of debut LP Who Killed…The Zutons?, McCabe recently made a conscious decision to live a cleaner, more productive life.

“This is me one beer all weekend, I’ve cut right down. The main thing is staying off the ale, getting up early in the morning, doing your warm-ups, all that shit. You’ve got loads to do to keep you distracted once the tour starts, but the hard work’s done in the practice room. You can’t  just go into rehearsal feeling dead weird and hungover. I’ve been having fits of tears, I don’t know why. They only last about two seconds and I used to put it down to the hangovers. But I’ve realised it’s always about stuff I like. A song I like. It’s never crying because I’m bitter, or angry. It’s always positive. It’s always about beautiful stuff.”

It’s been a hectic and emotional few months all round. Since announcing the reunion before Christmas, the band have been busy behind the closed doors of Elevator Studios, re-discovering their rhythm and timing. Alongside its catchy melodies and hooks, Who Killed…The Zutons? is an album filled with trepidation and uncertainty. Tracks like Zuton Fever and Pressure Point, in particular, grapple with unwanted and inexplicable anxieties. What was going through the frontman’s young mind, when he penned the lyrics?

“I was kinda just growing up. You’re seeing your dream come to life because we’d already been signed and started the album. You take a step back, loads of stuff comes out and you start cleaning your emotional pipes.”

“If you’re in a band you’ve got to be like that. In terms of songs and expressing yourself, you’ve gotta be honest or no one else will connect with it.”

Reconnecting with his bandmates seems to be providing as much enjoyment as re-visiting their back catalogue. At a time when some of Dave’s nearest have been battling ill-health, the comfort of his familiar crew has been a timely blessing.

“Back in the big bed, and I’ve only had one argument with Boyan” (Chowdhury, guitar) he laughs. “It’s been really good, everyone’s been dead nice. It was all about me and Sean (Payne, drums) getting on. We’re the driving force, if you will. Pair of narks, the ones who go home and think about shit.”

With Abi Harding back on sax, it’s only Russell Pritchard missing from the original lineup. The La’s/Cast’s Jay Lewis picks up bass duty, while Neil Bradley’s introduced on keys; adding a different dimension not only to the Zutons’ trademark stuff, but also new material the re-shaped collective are working on.

“There’s about twenty songs that I like, bits of songs. They all need finishing. It feels good, the ones we’ve done. Feels like it’s moved forward with Neil being there. There’s more percussion. Bit less sax, more harmonies. I’ve known Jay and Neil since I was about 17, they’ve got the right personalities.”

It’s been a long time coming, but McCabe seems to have struck a harmony in both his recreational and occupational realms. With an eye on the mounted television showing the Liverpool match, and his fingers stuck into a post-workout recovery batch of chicken wings, he’s as relaxed as a Reds fan can be right now. But as any football fan knows, a one-nil lead can be precarious, especially for an outfit with attacking tendencies. Does he see his controlled streak continuing, during and after the tour?

“We’ve done loads of partying in the past. The main thing for me is laying off, not going crazy for days on end. The best advice for anyone not to drink is to keep busy, replace it with other stuff. Give it a chance to feel better. Get over the boredom and all that.”

The singer’s honesty won’t come as a surprise to those who know him. An open book with a real interest in the human condition; even during his wildest periods, McCabe always had a self awareness and desire to find inner calm.

“I think maybe the main thing with any kind of anxiety is realising something in your head is creating stress. A lot of the problems I’ve had in my life have been stress related. Luckily for me I’ve known it’s stress, or been in a group where someone’s been able to point out to me ‘look, you’re stressed’. Some people go months… years, without knowing that. And it has bad results. I’ve seen mates break down crying, just over feeling anxious. I don’t find it hard to gab about anxiety or stress any more. I did when I was younger. More and more people are suffering from it. It’s normal to talk.”

Whether it’s been solo shows or with other bands – including Silent K, which he’s still a member – Dave’s never stopped gigging. But the last time the Zutons topped the bill, Barack Obama had just been elected president, Instagram had yet to be created and Michael Jackson was still alive. Does the prospect of going out there, to a potentially different environment and audience, bring with it additional nerves or fears?

“It’s more about the singing really at the moment, hitting the high notes. But you’ve gotta have nerves, the old cliche is true, and I always did. It’s a good thing. If you just go on and you’re not nervous you’re usually knackered and do a shit gig.”

And what about young artists starting out, putting bands together? With the shift to streaming and the ability for musicians to monetise their talent seemingly more difficult than when McCabe signed his first record deal, does he have any advice for newcomers?

“If you don’t know the difference and you really wanna do it, you’ll find a way. Just keep doing it. The main thing is just enjoying it, that’s what I’ve always thought from the off. It’s nice to make a living out of music, but if you don’t enjoy it there’s no point in doing it.”

True to his word he declines numerous offers of another drink, instead nursing one Guinness for the duration of the conversation, switching to water after polishing off his grub. On the 60 minute mark with Liverpool still leading, he decides to dart off and watch the rest of the game at home, unnecessarily apologising for wanting to grab an hours kip before band duties.

It’s a wiser McCabe; one that’s learnt from experiences and past disappointments. After a rollercoaster conclusion to the match his team have returned to the top of the league, too. Hopefully where they’ll remain.

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