I thoroughly enjoyed watching the kids trounce Liverpool’s own youngsters (and let’s be honest, Jeremie Aliadiere would not have waltzed through their first team defence like he did last night) in a public hostelry in the Highbury area yesterday evening. I also enjoyed necking down a few jars of the golden nectar.

So much so that, half cut on my way back home, I passed the old stadium and thought, what the hell. Without wishing to encourage anybody else to do the same – in my condition it wasn’t the wisest of moves – it was quite easy to find a way over the surrounds and there was little sign of any security inside. Still, it was a demolition site, the only genuine thing to protect was the safety of intruders, so more fool me if I met some unfortunate accident.

Obviously the Clock End and North Bank are no more. The West Stand is gradually going, but the odds are the East will meet its end first. Thinking that any human activity would be nearest the West Stand where the main entrances are, I stuck to the East and had a wander over the half demolished area. The players’ tunnel had piles of boulders in front of it, but I was able to climb over from the ‘pitch’ side and into the hallowed area. I stood a few minutes on the steps and just took it all in, thinking of the players that had lined up there. I then took a stroll up the steps to the dressing rooms – it’s just a shell there now, but there are giveaways – the players’ baths – unsold at the Highbury auction, are leaned up against a wall, and the red and white tiling remains in places.

Some previous visitors had spray painted ‘Stay’ on the walls in red, which I thought was a nice touch, if a little late. I stumbled around using my mobile phone to light the way. The Marble Halls have been completely blocked off on all sides and are inaccessible. This will rather obviously be the reception area for the plush flats that are being built and will, by the looks of things, be retained. I certainly wasn’t going to get any souvenirs from there, but did remove a mirror from the home dressing room area that I could not believe was still intact. To think of the number of players that had checked their appearance in that thing once changed back into their civvies after a match. I don’t doubt the mirror would have been smashed soon enough, so I felt no guilt in salvaging a piece of Highbury history from such a fate. Where the demolition had been ongoing, I was able to walk through a hole in the dressing room walls onto the back of the lower tier to make my exit.

There is something about a place that has been lived in, used, and then left to decay. On one level it’s just bricks and mortar, but on another, the memories and imaginings a solitary visitor brings with them can make the experience of walking around such a place a special experience. And the way demolition was progressing, there was a little bit of me that believed I might even be the last human being in that players’ tunnel before it went completely. Fanciful, but possible, especially if it’s no longer there today.

I toyed with the idea of trying to get upstairs, but having seen the advanced state of demolition below, I really thought it might not be a good idea. It was dark, I was drunk, I had a mirror from the dressing room and I was delirious about a 6-3 win at Anfield. Goodbye Highbury. We part on the best of terms.