Crossing with the Light
I was somewhat aware that large swathes of America laugh at Seattleites for being so punctilious about waiting for green lights. I don't think it is something that we particularly worry about so much as something that 'everybody' just does. It's been a long time since I have been in a large city other than Seattle and here in Liverpool I find myself suffering from anxiety every time I approach a crossing light. It has become easier for me to jaywalk mid-block than stand on the curb like an idiot waiting for the walk signal as everyone else crosses without me.
Food Waste
At the risk of being serious for a moment, I'm going to address the issue of food waste. I think it would be acknowledged that Americans are the world's worst when it comes to wasting food. Thousands of the poor and homeless could eat well on what the rest of us throw away. I've been working hard at home to minimize my waste, challenging 'sell by' and 'use by' dates and making frequent pots of what I call fridge soup.
I don't know if it is a conscious movement or just a business decision but it has become clear that restaurants in Liverpool (and I am assuming all of England) only prepare what they are certain will be purchased each day. Whatever the reason, I find this heartening. Here, when I ask for the soup of the day an hour before closing I am most likely to be told there is no more left. At home, there would be plenty left and undoubtedly servings to be thrown away at closing.
Alright?
That means hello. That's all. Much as we would say "How are you?" without expecting any detailed response greater than "Fine, how are you?" I know that. Nevertheless, my initial reaction always goes something like "My headache is gone thanks, you but my ankles are killing me." I'm still not sure exactly what the proper response is but for now I'm going with "Good, you?"
Oh my God, Pull the Drapes!
Directly across the street from my beautiful Grade II listed hotel is a newly built modern hotel which only opened it's doors this week. Until it opened, I could look across and into the big windows. I watched them furnishing the rooms, and then making up the beds located right in front of those big windows. Each one of the big windows has a bright orange shade. Any idea where I am going with this?
My windows are tall, narrow, and draped. The bed is set well back in the room. I guess the folks at the new hotel think that if they can't see into my room, I can't see into theirs. They would be wrong about that.
Two days ago, I sat at the end of my bed putting on my shoes and saw a woman in her bra standing by the bed directly across the street from me.. Just seconds later she was joined by a man just out of the shower. I know he was just out of the shower because he carried a towel and he was starkers! Yep, just like in 'Friends' - ugly naked man. I don't actually know if he was ugly, I really didn't look that closely.
Yesterday morning, about 8:, I sat in the same place doing the same thing. The folks across the street were there too. Morning sex! Seriously.
Last night was Bonfire night. As much as I wanted to join the crowds down at the docks to watch the parade and fireworks, it was too cold and I was too tired. Lying in my bed, I realized I could see the fireworks reflected in the very top floor windows across the street. Not as good as the real thing, but fun nevertheless. I could see the shadows of two people in one of the top rooms blocking out part of the fireworks. You guessed it, as soon as the fireworks on the Mersey were through, they decided to have some fireworks of their own.
For God's sake people, pull the shades! (My hotel manager has promised not to charge me extra for the entertainment. He's also offered to lend me his bins!)
My windows are tall, narrow, and draped. The bed is set well back in the room. I guess the folks at the new hotel think that if they can't see into my room, I can't see into theirs. They would be wrong about that.
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| The view from the end of my bed |
Two days ago, I sat at the end of my bed putting on my shoes and saw a woman in her bra standing by the bed directly across the street from me.. Just seconds later she was joined by a man just out of the shower. I know he was just out of the shower because he carried a towel and he was starkers! Yep, just like in 'Friends' - ugly naked man. I don't actually know if he was ugly, I really didn't look that closely.
Yesterday morning, about 8:, I sat in the same place doing the same thing. The folks across the street were there too. Morning sex! Seriously.
Last night was Bonfire night. As much as I wanted to join the crowds down at the docks to watch the parade and fireworks, it was too cold and I was too tired. Lying in my bed, I realized I could see the fireworks reflected in the very top floor windows across the street. Not as good as the real thing, but fun nevertheless. I could see the shadows of two people in one of the top rooms blocking out part of the fireworks. You guessed it, as soon as the fireworks on the Mersey were through, they decided to have some fireworks of their own.
For God's sake people, pull the shades! (My hotel manager has promised not to charge me extra for the entertainment. He's also offered to lend me his bins!)
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| The view from my window |
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.
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.
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| . |
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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| Paul, George, Ringo, Tere, and John |
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| Typical brilliant Liverpool combination of the old and the new |
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| More bricks! |
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| Proper English dinner: Steak & Ale Pie (large), mash, lovely gravy, sad vegetables, and a good cider. |
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