Sunday at Church

It was built in 1931 in the perpendicular style and it was consecrated St Luke's Church. In 1941 it was a casualty of what is known as the Liverpool Blitz and now it is known as The Bombed Out Church. I had reached the point in my NaNo novel where the action takes place at the church so it was time to make a visit. A sunny Sunday seemed like the perfect time.

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From the street, it looks like a perfectly nice English Church. From the inside, it comes up a little short. For starters, no roof. Only a few bits of stained glass remain in the Gothic windows. It rained overnight so the grass was a little swampy and there were puddles in the pew like benches. There was a table where the alter would have been wit two chairs, one of which was, miraculously dry. So I took a seat, just to take it all in and fix some of the details in my mind.

When I stood up, it became clear that the dry seat upholstery covered an inch of soaking wet sponge-like padding. I was wet through four layers of fabric, which meant that for the rest of my time out I left a damp derriere shaped imprint everywhere I sat. In this case, 'I'll deal with it' meant pretending I had no idea and moving quickly on.  I knew it was just rainwater.

On a warm summer's day I could have spent hours there. On this day I just took a lot of pictures. I stopped at the entrance to leave a donation to the organization that is working to keep St Luke's open and functioning. No surprise, the gentleman at the entry was another wonderful Liverpudlian with a story.

His father was American, his mother English, but he had spent most of his life in England. With a little investigative work this morning I determined he is the Curator and Artistic Director. We talked about his father, his graphic novel-in-progress, my NaNo novel, Liverbirds, Pinterest, and inevitably...we talked about Trump and America. The British are truly baffled by what has happened in our country. I could only tell him that we are too.

Finally, I left by way of the gardens and worked my way towards Bold Street. I stopped to take the picture at the top of this post and here came my new friend galloping across the street. He put a small book into my hands, checked the traffic, and ran back to his post. It was a collection of photos and locations of all the Liverbirds in Liverpool.

Thank you Ambrose! Once again, the people of Liverpool, whatever their heritage, prove to be just wonderful.

A European Night at Anfield

Just like my first Premier League game at Anfield, my first European Night at Anfield was everything it should be. I realize not everyone would agree with me, but they are jaded supporters with memories of brilliance that will never die for them, and possibly will never be repeated. I am happy to take what I get.

Standing on the street, waiting for my taxi, I saw three young men come racing around the corner. Reacting much faster that I would have thought possible I threw myself into the way of the one nearest me and stopped him with "Neil!". There are more than a few LFC podcasts but The Anfield Wrap is far and away my favorite and surely the most successful. I've been a subscriber forever and I spend much too much of my time listening to virtually all the hours they provide. Having secured approval to visit the office I let Neil go on his way.

My taxi was late and I was getting anxious. When he finally arrived he turned out to be another of the brilliant, chatty drivers I had come to expect in Liverpool - asking lots of questions and carefully feeling out my opinion about Trump before jumping into 'that' conversation. I wear a button on my coat which reads "Trump is Batshit Crazy." Sadly, I think the writing is too small to be of much use, but I'm always happy to read it out for anyone who asks.

By the time we got to Anfield, the roads had been blocked out farther than on Saturday and I was left with a long and eventually painful walk to my bench. It was another one of those things that once survived I was grateful for. Being carried along by the crowd, passing long lines of people out the chippy doors, the smell of vinegar coming and going...worth it.

Eventually I reached my bench, luckily empty, and sat down at one end to catch my breath. Before long a rather roly-poly man walked up to me and said "You're in my seat." He then threw back his head and laughed like crazy. I laughed along with him, as he was clearly proud of his little joke.

"What's your name Luv?"
"Tere"
"Where are you from then?"
"Seattle, America."
"I'm Michael, I'm Liverpool Irish and you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!"

Yes, of course he had been drinking! At which point he took me by the shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks. If you know me, you are as surprised by all that as I was. By now, his friends had come back for him and were dragging him off just as my friends with my ticket arrived. Good timing.

As we reached the crush waiting to go thru the turnstiles we could hear the game was set to begin and as the strains of You'll Never Walk Alone rose inside Anfield, the voices of all of us outside rose to meet them. I didn't actually cry this time, but I did fog my glasses up.

Once again Derek gave up his seat so that I could be in the Kop, and on his birthday yet! Both the Kop and the Mirabor fans stood through the entire game. Yikes! I managed to perch on the edge of my folded up seat and see most of the game. It would have been worth it even to sit down and just listen to the songs and chants and cheers. Another 3 - nil win puts us in good position for the next round so the fans all left happy. Except of course for the misery guts that are never happy - LFC seems to have plenty of them.

Waiting for the roads to open up and the taxis to get through was bitterly cold but every one was cheery, even the Maribor fans. After their 0-7 loss to us in the first leg, I don't think they really expected a win. They were just happy to be there. And so was I.

Av til Norge

After a short caffeine upload at the nearby Costa's the kids left for Lime Street Station en route to Manchester and their flight to Oslo. I went back to my room and took a nap. Eventually I got up and did a little blogging and then I took a nap.

I was aware it was Halloween but could have easily missed it if I hadn't gone to the NaNoWriMo kick-off party. National Novel Writing Month is an annual, internet-based creative writing project that takes place during the month of November. Participants attempt to write a 50,000 word manuscript between November 1 and November 30. I completed it twice and failed twice. This will be a fun group!

After the meet-up I went home - the hotel is now effectively my home - and took a quick nap before I went to bed.

Monday

In Liverpool, when you least expect it, you look up and see some part of the Anglican Cathedral peering down at you.

It's certainly not the most beautiful cathedral I've ever seen, but it is the largest. The kids left early on Monday to tour the cathedral. Unlike many cathedrals in England there is no entry charge for tourist or to take photos, just a charge for 'The Tower Experience'. (I wish I had a nickel for every 'Experience' in England's tourist industry) I will be visiting the cathedral before I leave but I'm afraid the climb to the top of the tower will not happen for me. It takes you to the very top and the view is over all of Liverpool and the surrounding area.

After hoofing it from our hotel to the Cathedral, climbing to the top of the tower, then hoofing it to the docks the kids were bushed. I met them at the Beatles and we boarded the ferry. Which ferry? The 'Ferry Cross the Mersey' of course.

Paul, George, Ringo, Tere, and John

The ferry boat is the actual boat that the Beatles would have taken for their gigs on the Wirral. It looked exactly like one of our passenger ferries at home. The cruise took us seaward along the Liverpool side then crossed over with two stops at Seacombe/Wallasey and Woodside/Birkenhead then down, around, and back to the dock.

Typical brilliant Liverpool combination of the old and the new

More bricks!

From the ferry dock we strolled past the Canal Head, swerved the Tate and reached our destination at the end of the Albert Dock - the Pump House. We intended just to take a good look and a few photos but it enticed us in for an early dinner.

Proper English dinner: Steak & Ale Pie (large), mash, lovely gravy, sad vegetables, and a good cider.

We wanted to wander around Albert Dock but once again we we running late so we Uber'd back to Castle Street to say farewell to a couple of places that Amy and Arne had especially enjoyed - Castle Street Townhouse and Tavern on the Green. They both fell in love with Liverpool and would have happily spent more time here if they weren't booked on to Norway.

Still catching up

I'm blogging like a madman, so much to tell!

On Sunday we cut ourselves some slack and slept in a little. About 10: we walked across the street to Cheese and Co for brunch. I will not go hungry in this town! Then a short trip down to the docks for a trip on the Magical Mystery Tour Bus. while we waited for the tour start, we explored a little bit of Albert Dock.

Mid-day drinking...the kids are not a good influence on me but this coffee flavored cocktail was quite delightful.

The guide had wonderful personal stories to tell and in between the commentary the appropriate Beatles music was played. If they had cut the music suddenly I am pretty sure they would have heard the whole bus singing along. It was obvious we all knew all the lyrics.

Sadly, not the original gate but a very fine replica.

The tour ended at the Cavern Quarter but since Arne had toured that area extensively while Amy and I were off doing LFC things, we skipped that and headed straight to the Baltic Market. With the end on Daylight Savings Time here in England over the weekend we had lost an hour of afternoon light which we sorely missed once we had reached the Market. It was too late to explore this brilliant area...lots of street art, filming locations (Peaky Blinders), and millions more bricks.

The Baltic Triangle has recently been named one of the UK's hippest areas. I guess that's a good thing AND a bad thing. There is development going on everywhere  among the massive brick dock warehouses. the Baltic Market is a food court and bar with 10 food suppliers who change every couple of months. By the time we got there, many of the food booths had run out of their best stuff but it was still packed and seats were hard to come by. I sent the kids out to find what was left and we shared their choices.  Halloumi Fries...just sayin'...Halloumi Fries. I'll be back.

One Glorious Day - Part Two

Before we could head upstairs to the dinner, I was introduced to the two Reds Amy had been chatting with while waiting for me. Oh yes, she is her mother's daughter. Into the lift, down the hall, and there I was in the handicapped stall with the door open and Amy was handing me in clean, dressy clothes and I was tossing out my game-worn attire. Change of shoes, change of jewelry, and while Amy packed it all in her backpack I touched up my make-up and we were ready to go.

There was a fairly long pause in the ante-room giving time for everyone to 'bevvy-up'. Eventually we were sat at a table for ten with one Swede, six Norwegians, and one empty chair. Lovely, friendly company to spend an evening with. LFC has a massive Norwegian following and it seemed as though a good 60% of the people there were Scandinavian.

As you would imagine, the dinner tickets were not cheap, so I only sprung for a Meet & Greet ticket for myself. The food was excellent, there was music (a lovely vocalist with a guitar and a speaker turned up way too loud), videos from Bugsy's career, and best of all the featured guests - one from each decade of Moran's career: Ian Callahan, Phil Neal, Roy Evans, Ian Rush, and Robbie Fowler. I suspect many other supporters don't know as much about Moran as they should. Bit of Trivia: If you Google 'liverpool god' the first several pages of results are all about Robbie Fowler. I did record several of the Rush comments for a friend of mine but sadly, they are all too big to post here.

The various Q&A's and other entertainments ran long so they fell behind in the Meet & Greet program which required a little maneuvering on the part of those of us at the end tables, but eventually it all came good. All five of the men were lovely and though I was most excited to meet  Rushie, I was most pleased by the warm and sincere handshake offered by Roy Evans. I shared an inappropriate comment with Rush which made Fowler laugh. It was worth every penny. As far as I know, Rush hasn't taken out a restraining order yet. 

But the 'fun' wasn't over. Down in the lobby, I sat and waited for Amy to deal with everything for me, as per usual this week. She was at the desk with a question, the thump from the club was pounding and a clearly inebriated but happy young man asked her if she had a bag to protect his three signed copies of Ronnie Moran's book. Her response "Do I look like a bag lady?" He moved on, but soon came back to chat her up a bit, not seriously - just for giggles. When she swerved a friendly kiss he told her not to worry, he was married with kids. Amy replied that she was also married and with her Mom. He turned to me, threw out his arms, hollered "Mom!" and planted a big ol' smooch right on my lips. What could I do but laugh. Then he went off on his search for a bag.

One short Uber trip later and we were back at the hotel. It was 1:30 in the morning and Arne had been in bed asleep for a good 2 hours. That will never happen again!

It's good to be a Red. Especially in Liverpool.