THE trouble with “some people” is they don’t understand how fundamental the application of the wisdom of Bill Shankly is to living a full and happy existence.

Mar 22 2008 by Mike Chapple, Liverpool Daily Post

THE trouble with “some people” is they don’t understand how fundamental the application of the wisdom of Bill Shankly is to living a full and happy existence.

That’s in relation to the great man’s famous quote: “Some people think football is a matter of life and death – I can assure them it’s far more important than that.”

To the footie heathen such philosophy may seem ridiculous while the true believer knows that Shanks was doing nothing more than stating the obvious.

Lady Penelope, of Pensby, falls into the former category, God help her soul.

The full impact of the gulf that lies between us came when Yours Truly embarked on a mission of mercy to collect her after a knee operation conducted at a Runcorn hospital.

Unfortunately, pick-up time coincided with the live Champions League draw on Sky Sports. The significance of this would have been lost on the patient so she was left in ignorance as she was bundled into the car with sticks akimbo before the Chapmobile screeched off at light speed to find a pub which had it on.

“Won’t be a sec!” the Pub Column said as he leapt out and dashed in through the doors of the nearest hostelry leaving a dazed Lady behind.

A few minutes later, I got back behind the wheel to mutter “We got Arsenal”.

It was a mistake which sparked off a plethora of exasperated “I don’t believe its!!!!” that would have put Victor Meldrew to shame.

“All that rushing around just for football – and I’m a sick woman,” added the Lady with a squawk as she poked me with her crutch. (Oo-er missus!)

She needed placating – and fast.

Salvation was found at the Clock Face, Prescot.

This is one of the finest pubs to be found in this satellite town bestriding the Scouse/Woolly border and one which is most appropriately named given that the settlement is steeped in the history of timepiece manufacture.

A Georgian mansion in origin, it was constructed in the late 18th century as a dower house for the widow of the Earl of Derby although it has been a Thwaites pub now for just over a quarter of a century. For much of that time, it has been run by the Moody family of Sid and Linda, with daughters Alison and Lyndsey. Its interior consists of two large, but homely, sitting rooms with a long bar spanning both which was recently the object of an extensive makeover.

The brewery had originally suggested that it should be modernised – but Linda, wary of the chrome and laminate horror that this can entail, put her foot down. It means that its identity as a cosy, traditional alehouse has been retained along with the echoes of its grander past.

This meant the Lady felt entirely at home despite the indignity of having to hop around like a female Long John Silver to find a table and chair on which to perch with her damaged leg.

She did so with aplomb and, considering surgery had taken place only four hours before, was keeping up a sterling performance. The Clock’s excellent food and drink only helped to improve it. Fine pints of cask Thwaites Lancaster Bomber, Bitter and Mild are served here while the home made food is exceptional and affords it a loyal following – two ladies from Yorkshire even come over every Saturday to eat the legendary steak and kidney pie. We, however, went for Lyndsey’s “pride and joy” the home made chilli and the succulent roast beef dinner, a bargain at 13 quid all in.

It was in a Champions League all of its own.