Old Haunts

So, it's Ivory's birthday, and the gang's reunited for bold jaunts round old haunts. Ivory's brother BJ (left) is still in the country, and he's getting taken to see the place where his sister first met Tom and fell in love. If he was hoping for moonlit canals or scented gardens, frankly, he is in for a fucking shock.

We tramp around the deserted concrete walkways that were so familiar to us a decade ago, and recall the good old days. When Tom and Ivory were first dating, he took her to a four-hour long play about the life of Andy Warhol, performed in a draughty old sugar warehouse in the coldest November on record. At the time, Tom thought he'd knackered the whole relationship in one trouser-freezing night. But luckily, at the same time, Ivory was thinking: "If we can just get through this forty-five minute monologue before hypothermia sets in, everything after this is piss-easy."

With Kenny (right) along for the ride, we zoom up to Williamson Park, and show BJ the Ashton Memorial - erected by Lord Ashton for his dead wife - followed by the abandoned Moor Hospital insane asylum, the Quernmore Road cemetery, and Golgotha, the hanging ground of the Pendle Witches. Because it wasn't enough that we traipsed the poor bastard round a concrete ghost town; now we have to teach him the real meaning of "old haunts".

All the same, it's a fun afternoon, brightened by sudden sunshine. Armed with beer, we head back to the old house for an old-fashioned party. At which point, I decide to check the Albion's fortunes, heavy with the knowledge that we've never won a match on the opening day of a Premier League season.

And to my amazement, we've only gone and beaten Liverpool 3-0.

On a day filled with spectres and spirits, at least one ghost has been soundly put to rest.