Stood on the Pier, jump now. Missus just didn't get it. She hated football with a passion! It seemed like hours on the way home. Tried the radio again. It worked. The rest is history.

Maybe it was because it was the first time in our lifetime we had been so near to losing our top flight status.

I had never been to The Old Lady before, and ultimately decided I didn't want my first game to be potentially the worst day of my life if we didn't win, so I ended up just lying in bed, listening to the game on my radio.

It wasn't just the fact we went 2-0 down, but the manner in which it happened (penalty and own goal) that made me take a swipe at the radio and send it across my room. I just lay there in my bed, numb, tears filling my eyes.

It felt like I had been lying there for hours when something told me to go and retrieve the radio and plug it in again. By this point we had pulled one back and I suddenly got a sense of hope and a renewed optimism.

The rest, as they say, is history. Cue jumping around my room like a nutter, flying down the stairs, hugging my Mum, hugging my Sister, hugging the cat (none of whom appreciated how much it meant to me!)

I then remember watching on TV the scenes at full time. The pitch invasion. The pure emotion of it all. Incredible scenes.

There was one particular kid that the camera focused on, perched on his Dad's shoulders out there on the hallowed turf having the time of his life.

I briefly pondered how that could have been me.

But I didn't really care. We had done it, and that's all that really mattered.

All dreadful occasions leading up to it, and all sheer release after it.

Palace wasn't technically the last day, but an extra 30+ years on the clock, definitely made it more real.

Youth naively ruled out going down years ago, but Palace I feared the worst. 2 nil down it was rock bottom. The chips were down, the fire was out.

I'm sure John Ebbrell went off, and he looked like he was glad to be taken out of that very emotional atmosphere, was it Stuart Barlow who came on to replace him? Seems a strange swop if it was!

Or had you already checked, you wind-up merchant?

Barlow subbed on for Ebbrell after 80 minutes.

The sense of release when we survived has stayed with me and there was a picture of a young lad on his knees in the center circle, that feeling has has never left.

As Paisley said, football is not about life or death, it is more important than that. I am so proud our wonderful club gave him a home after his retirement.

Just over 6 months later I took the eldest to his first game as we rolled over to Coventry. 3 points from 30 and 22nd. May 1995 was going to be even worse.
I persuaded a steward to let him walk on the pitch - so he did not see me cry. My beloved Everton. How?

No wind-up Michael, I just didn't trust my own memory because you might have thought we would have brought a defender on to hold onto the lead although in my head I thought Barlow had come on.

By the way, Michael, check how many subs were allowed those days, it was 30 years ago! I definitely don't remember how many.