Liverpool 3
After a better night's sleep and a relaxing wake up, I venture into the day with 4 things planned, around the weather. So far the weather has been kind and today also looks OK. My Uber driver today is the first one who has actually talked to me. He informs me it is half term (which I realise of course), and this is why the traffic is good. I wonder if I should tell him about my experience of driving around London in a little van to all the music publishing houses collecting parcels, but I think better of it. That, incidentally, was one of the most stressful things I have ever done to earn money.
First stop is the Central Library. I arrive at opening time and there is a flurry as the door opens for insomniacs. It has an ancient facade but as soon as you walk in you are greeted with a slick decor and more computers than you can shake a stick at. It looks as if it was built last week. I always feel as if I am trespassing in these places but I pretend I am a college professor (I don't think I could be taken for a student any longer), and I stride purposefully.
The Reading Room is predictably round and is stunning. I love being surrounded by books and here they are a plenty. It is the most beautiful room. There are 3 students sitting at tables and I try to look studious which is difficult with a large zoom lens and the loud noise of the shutter.
I then climb to the top of the building and venture out onto the passable roof terrace. The glass dome at the top of the stairs is a nice touch.
I descend again to the cafe which is very quiet and I settle with a book. Ah, ‘this is the life’ I think, ‘I could sit here all day’, and then there is a deluge of customers. I must say the coffee is exceptional so maybe word has got around, but I do feel sorry for the girl at the till dealing with it all solo. She must've thought a job in a library cafe sounded so tranquil. Her hair has turned red.
The Walker Art Gallery is next door. It is sizable and crammed with marble sculptures, paintings, costumes and all the rest of it. In a small corner of one room is a little bow to the Dutch Golden Age and I find a painter I have not heard of. I also discover that the term ‘Golden Age’ is frowned on by some, as so much of the wealth and development of the age was obtained through the slave trade. I won't comment further on that. There is a large impressive portrait of Henry VIII.
The promised sun is failing but I brave it through the rain in search of a bus. I have read that the buses are contactless so I give it a go. Almost every mode of transport in UK cities is straightforward, except for buses. Every city is different and fares are not always easy to research online. I wave my card at the machine and I am let on, phew! £2. My destination is Sefton Park, about thirty minutes out of the city. There is a Palm House. The Victorians were very good at these and almost all cities have one. If they couldn't think what to do, they just built a Palm House. I love them. The view from the top of the bus is what you might expect from a sprawling city, and I prefer this to the open top tourist one which costs £12 and goes round in circles.
I find Sefton Park and I spot a sign for the Palm House but it is pointing in the opposite direction. I check that it can't have been blown in the wind but then decide to ignore it. In Britain we do many things well, but signage is not one of them. I plough on and see the Palm House ahead but from inside I hear the sound of screaming children. I had envisaged sitting for a while with a book. Alas, not to be. An ‘art’ something or other is being set up and mothers with prams have gathered as said Palm House also houses a coffee shop. So I retreat with a couple of photos and go in search of another coffee shop in the park grounds.
I fancy tea and cake but it is the ‘cakes all wrapped tightly in cling film’ type of shop, so I plump for ice cream. Now, ice cream. I'm probably becoming old and fussy but isn't ice cream becoming more and more unpalatable? It's true that I once heard what actually goes into commercially made ice cream and I then made the mistake of checking for myself. Enough said. I will leave you to do your own research! I managed to slip most of the tub into a nearby bin unobserved, though I doubt the three teenagers serving me would have been all that bothered.
As an important aside, positively the worst ice cream I have ever had was in Exmouth when I was with my Dad. We both agreed and could not eat it. On other occasions with my Dad we would always say ‘lovely thank you’, even when it was dire (we are British after all and never make a fuss), but on this occasion it was sent back. I think it is good to beware of buying ice cream in the winter, it's probably been sitting there since last August.
I decide to go back to Liverpool centre on the train, just a few stops. I'm hot footing it again and am aware my spirits are rising. I always find I feel better when I am moving, whether it be on foot or transport. I should mention this to my therapist next time, he'll probably have a field day.
I have to ask someone if I'm going in the right direction for the station. This is the most common failure of signage in this country. You are going well, following signs and then you get to a junction with options and… nothing. A young lady assures me I'm going in the right direction. We end up running for the same train and she then looks out for me for the rest of the trip. I almost sit next to her but think this might seem a little forward, considering we have only just met. As she gets off and leaves me, she assures me again I'm going in the right direction. A nice little interaction with a stranger that smartphones have virtually robbed us of.
After a little rest, it is time to take a tour of the Liver Building. It is perhaps Liverpool's most famous building with the two liver birds perched on the top. It is said that if the birds fly away it will be the death of the city. Our guide is very young and is from Kingston. It seems rude to ask him how on earth he ended up in Liverpool. I'm guessing he is a student earning some cash. He is possibly studying drama, I hope so as his repartee sounds as if he has done it literally hundreds of times, which I dare say he has. Before ascending the clock towers we are shown a video warning us of the dangers, which seems odd, especially as we have been invited to do so, and indeed have paid good money for it. The guide tells us not to worry at all and we follow like lambs. I guess they are covered if anything goes amiss.
The Liver Building was built when everyone was buying life insurance (or more accurately, death insurance), so as to prevent being put in a mass or paupers grave. The company took off and built this vast construction to house its offices. The views are stunning, even with the grey skyline. The clock towers were unfortunately not built large enough to house a bell (oops), so they currently house speakers which do the job. The building has also appeared in one of the Batman films as the Gotham City police department.
A final evening stroll along the docks ...
Garmin says 9.2 miles
So ends my trip. I wouldn't say Liverpool is an attractive city though the architecture is stunning, especially on the river front. It is a funny shape and has taken me a while to find the middle! The Gormley sculptures are definitely worth a visit but don't bother with Sefton Park. There are places to see the city from above and well worth it, as well as the ferry trip. Try and fit in a concert or show which I didn't manage. I would say the Metropolitan Cathedral is a must see. And of course if you like the Beatles, there is a lot to see. I'm glad to have come but would I come back? Probably not.
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