We took on the Anfield Abseil, despite my vertigo

He hooks me onto one of the three safety lines and jokes about how Evertonians only get the two safety lines and Manchester United fans don’t get any at all. Harrison laughs at this, and I giggle along nervously as well.

Once we’re both hooked up, I look across at Harrison, who is listening intently to his guide, Steffi, while I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience as I stare blankly at mine. My safety gloves feel like they’ve just been fished out of the nearby River Mersey, thanks to the profuse amounts of sweat gushing from my palms, and I’m only vaguely aware of what Denny, my guide, is saying.

“I’m really sorry,” I croak to Denny. “Can you say that again?”

Denny patiently goes through the instruction in how I should feed the rope through the ring in order to control my descent, and then asks me how I’m feeling.

Behind him, I can see a few of my fellow participants smiling sympathetically at me. They’re clearly just as aware of the fear in my eyes as Denny is.

“Just lean back,” Denny tells me, “I’ve got you.”

Every fibre of my being wants to keep hold of the rail that I’m gripping onto for dear life, and for what seems like an eternity, I’m weighing up how embarrassed I’ll feel about chickening out.

Then I hear my ten-year-old daughter and her mum below us shouting “go Harrison” and I look across to see my son is now at a right angle to the wall of the famous old stadium and slowly inching his way downwards. His guide, Steffi, is praising him for his bravery, and I glance at Denny, who’s telling me that I’ve got this too.

I can hear myself exhaling rapidly, like I’m trying to extinguish a thousand candles, and then I’m at a right angle, and everything feels okay. My feet are against the wall and all of a sudden the simple instructions – that I couldn’t quite focus on a minute ago – all make complete sense. I feed the rope a little at a time and gradually descend.

Ten metres down, I catch up to Harrison, who’s posing for photographs close to the famous Liverpool crest, with his mum, sister and Steffi yelling to him how brave he’s been.

Oddly, I’m actually starting to enjoy the experience now, and Harrison and I have a short chat while we’re both level with the crest. There’s no fear in either of us, and I feel like I could hang around here all day – if it wasn’t for the fact there were other participants waiting.

“Paul, if you want to, you can try jumping away from the wall,” Denny yells down to me.

What a great idea, I think, and a few moments later I find myself pretending that I’m in the SAS. In my mind’s eye, I’m doing a great job of this and look almost 007-esque as I make my way from the crest to the instructor on the ground.

Ten minutes later, I watch the video footage and can see that I’m more Johhny English than James Bond, but the fact remains we both did it.

Harrison is immensely proud of his certificate when we’re handed them at the end; I’m pretty chuffed with mine too.

It seems only right that we end our visit in the Anfield Museum, which is included in the price of the experience, marvelling over the fantastic collection of trophies on display. As a Barnsley fan, this is the nearest Harrison will ever get to seeing major trophies, and he’s just as thrilled to see them as he was to collect his certificate …well almost.