The smell of chip shop vinegar hit me walking past the chippy on Walton Road and suddenly I'm eight years old again, stealing batter bits from me dad's paper wrapper while he swore at the traffic on the way home from Anfield. Me mam would've gone mental if she knew he let me have the last sausage too, but he just winked and said "don't tell your mother, she'll have us both on a diet of rabbit food by Tuesday." Still can taste that greasy paper in me fingers thirty years later 🍟