I was nervous on Sunday night. Couldn't get to sleep.

The following day, 10,000 Everton supporters had been allocated the privilege to attend the first test event at the new stadium at Bramley-Moore Dock. I was one of the fortunate ones, along with a friend and our dads.

The event has added to a general royal blue buzz at the moment. WhatsApp groups and social media were awash with excitement and anticipation the day after the 2-1 win at Crystal Palace. Not only were Everton seemingly an upwardly mobile football team again thanks to David Moyes, but we were about to get a first proper look at the new home on the waterfront.

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And yet, I was nervous. As the hours ticked by on Sunday night and into Monday morning, my mind was racing.

I think it's fine to say now out loud - I haven't always been totally on board about the move to the docks. For a couple of reasons.

The first has started to fade away in recent weeks thankfully. At times, with the team in disarray and the very existence of the football club seemingly under threat under the ownership of Farhad Moshiri, I had previously looked at the new stadium as a potential millstone.

When worrying accounts were released and PSR problems surfaced - along with the very real prospect of Everton being a Championship club - I'd look at the stadium being built and wonder: 'How are they going to pay for *that* thing?'

Thanks to The Friedkin Group and Moyes, that existential dread has been dashed. Everton have financial stability. Everton will be a Premier League club again next season.

And the second? Well, I just love Goodison Park. I love my seat in the lower Gwladys Street. I love the idiosyncrasies of the matchday routine I've crafted over decades. I love memories - even the bad - that have been made.

I love how it can elevate lads and girls in royal blue shirts too. That much was evident less than a week ago, when an injury-ravaged Everton went toe-to-toe with Premier League champions elect Liverpool and emerged with a 2-2 draw. It's rare that a football stadium and an atmosphere can do that.

That was the main anxiety as we got dropped off on Great Howard Street on Monday night and started the downhill walk to the dock road. What if I walk in and just don't feel it? What if it's not quite as good as being billed? What if it's just not the same?

As we turned right at the bottom of Dublin Street and started the walk up to the stadium, those fears started to subside. Peering over the old dock wall is the unique roof of the ground, surrounded by a blue hue from the stadium lighting. A beckoning beacon for flocking Evertonians.

It's only when you're down on the front and within close proximity of the stadium that you start get a sense of the scale of the structure and site.

The updates from the club have been impressive and informative, while those who have tracked the build progress from commutes to and from the city centre from the north will have no doubt been excited by shell of the stadium gradually taking form. It's those train journeys from which I've charted the progress, often tactically picking a seat on the appropriate side of the carriage to get the best look.

But the biggest wow factor the stadium offers comes when you're up close and personal with it.

Walking through the gates and into the fan plaza is where those in attendance stopped to take photographs with friends and family members. Plenty paused and lingered for a second.

We asked a fellow blue would he mind taking a picture of the four of us. "Of course mate," was his jovial reply, barely able to peel his eyes away from the gigantic structure in front of us. "I'll take as many as you want on a night like this. Boss isn't it?"

It is boss. It's grand. It's vast. And when you take your seat, there's a massive sense of space to be filled. By Evertonians and by Evertonian noise.

That sensation is helped by the towering south stand. It is very steep. We were in row 50 and while hamstrings were stretched to get up to the seats, even at that height there isn't a sense that you're detached from the action. You could feel the thwack of challenges and hear thud of the ball when a long pass was being played. It's an architectural marvel.

Sitting there was strange. A match was being played, although supporters were craning their necks throughout. Looking at the roof, seeing how many rows were behind them, pointing out where they'd purchased their own season ticket or where they'd like to buy one in one of the future windows.

And then Harrison Rimmer scored the first goal. A Wigan youngster who supports Liverpool. Naturally he goaded the 10,000 in attendance with a reference to the six European Cups won by our red neighbours.

Still, even that moment was perversely satisfying. I mean, of course he'd scored! This is still Everton, after all. And that it felt like Everton at this venue - even with so much work still to do before the full opening - was so comforting. It felt right.

We left after around 70 minutes eventually, clutching an Everton donut in frostbitten fingers. Even as the wind whipped through the old dockland streets, the buzz among supporters was still audible on the breeze. "How good was it though?" "Ridiculous, just ridiculous"

After a drink and a debrief, I eventually made it home around 11pm.. I thawed out, clambered into bed and couldn't sleep again.

This time it was due to excitement. Fears sated and mind wired, I grabbed my phone and couldn't help but scroll through social media. Reading articles, watching videos and taking in images from different angles. It was anxiety replaced by anticipation. Acceptance at last and a yearning to get back.