Bradford Fire: 25 Years On: The lucky ones

This time of year always brings a strange sense of isolation, guilt almost, to the Bridge household because as the people of Bradford and Lincoln mark another anniversary of the day 56 people perished in the Valley Parade fire disaster – 25 years ago on May 11 1985 – there remains in this family only relief.

It was supposed to be the greatest day in the club's recent history, the day Peter Jackson, City's captain, was presented with the trophy to complete the club's Third Division Championship season before their final match of the campaign against Lincoln City. Man and boy, the Kop had been our preferred viewing position but for the celebration we had bought seating tickets. It was our first time in the old stand which had been the pride of Bradford when first opened in 1911 to a design by the great football ground architect Archibald Leitch. By 1985 it had become shabby. It was a rabbit warren smelling of Cornish pasties and Bovril, people pressed too close together in mutual discomfort and, down a dim corridor, primitive toilet facilities. We did not know it was a death trap. Richard takes up the story: "Is it really 25 years ago? That means my father was only two years older than I am today when it happened.

"How the world has changed in that time, technological advances immediately spring to mind, but so, too, does the staggering improvement in the country's football grounds, which is directly linked to the Bradford and Hillsborough disasters of the Eighties.

"It was a glorious spring day and I recall saying to my dad as we walked down to the ground from Manningham Lane that I'd never seen so many smiling faces at a match. Prior to kick-off the players showed their appreciation of the season-long support by holding up individual letters spelling out the phrase 'THANK YOU FANS' and kicking signed footballs into the crowd.

"I recall little of the footballing action from the first 43 minutes, then there was a disturbance in the crowd at the opposite end of the stand we were in and play was halted.

"Within seconds a thick plume of smoke had reached the underside of the stand roof and people were spilling over the front of the seated area on to the terracing below and ultimately to the pitch where the players stood, wondering what was happening.

"I grabbed dad's arm and suggested we head in the opposite direction. As we shuffled past the people who remained to observe the events unfolding, we almost bumped in to a man who had caught one of the autographed balls an hour earlier.

"For some reason, at the end of the row, I didn't turn right and head towards the rear of the stand and the logical exit route. I continued across block A and then down to the front of the seated area. Here we were faced with a fence and a large drop on the other side which, thankfully, I didn't have to contend with as dad jumped first and then caught me mid-flight.

"As we hurried onto the pitch there was a backdrop of shrieks and screams. I remember dad asking a policeman heading in the opposite direction if everyone had escaped from the stand. The officer replied: 'Yes'.

"By now the pitch was covered in spectators and it took an age to make it across the penalty area to the exit between the Midland Road and Bradford End stands, all the while my dad urging me not to turn round. I didn't.

"Having made it down the steps on to Midland Road, dad passed me a can of Fanta he had bought from a street vendor. We were both shaking.

"We made our way back to Manningham Lane and joined the stream of shell-shocked supporters walking zombie-like towards the city centre. We passed a classmate and his father, their clothes were smouldering. He explained they had had to crawl out under the turnstiles at the back of the stand because the exit gates were locked.

"We reached the top of Kirkgate and the streets were full of shoppers staring

over our shoulders at the shaft of thick smoke soaring skywards.

"Dad popped into a phone booth and rang my grandad to tell him we were okay and not to panic. As it transpired he'd been watching the racing and was unaware of what had happened."

That's Richard's story. We had reached the safety of a disbelieving city. Outside the ground, especially behind the charred remains of the stand, it was pandemonium. Firemen and policemen rushed to do what they could as survivors milled round, looking for friends and relatives, praying they had survived.

Those in the terrace houses round the ground, most of them Asian, opened their doors and offered tea and chairs. People queued quietly to telephone with news that they were safe.

We headed for home unaware that anyone – let alone 56 people, two of them from Lincoln, the rest Bradfordians – had perished.

Then we switched on the television to see the terrible pictures and hear John Helm's words on World of Sport. The enormity of it all still did not sink in; neither did relief at our good fortune.

At that point, a drive to Keighley to take in a few overs of a Bradford League cricket match with pint in hand seemed a good idea. It was not until people began talking of what had suddenly become "the Bradford City fire disaster" that home seemed like the place to be.

That evening we were invited out for dinner and, as usual, the entertainment ended with our hostess playing the piano, the rest of us singing. Our repertoire included Don't Fence Me In and the shock suddenly struck. If Valley Parade had had pitch-side fences we would have been trapped. It was an uneasy night's sleep.

The following days were unremarkable. Work, school and life went on with the fire something which had happened to others: to those who had died, their relatives and loved ones, to the many were terribly burnt and undergoing treatment at Bradford Royal Infirmary and Pinderfields in Wakefield.

Messages of condolence flooded into Bradford. A disaster appeal which would eventually raise 3.5m was launched and a memorial service was held. An inquiry chaired by Sir Oliver Popplewell investigated the fire and concluded, not surprisingly, that wooden stands would no longer be legal.

He also found, more controversially, that the fire was a piece of misfortune. Despite evidence the club had been warned of the danger inherent in the stand with the build-up of rubbish in the gap under the seats, no one was to blame. One letter from a council official had said: "A carelessly discarded cigarette could give rise to a fire risk." Prophetic words.

There will be the annual memorial service at City Hall next Tuesday (May 11) and the bells will peal Abide with Me and You'll Never Walk Alone but we will not be there.

That is for people who suffered in the Bradford City fire, not for those of us who do not have the scars of surgery, memories of lost friends and relatives or endless nightmares. We were and remain the lucky ones.

YP MAG 8/5/10