Liverpool

We were a little concerned this morning when we had to roll our heavy suitcases from our hotel to the place where our car was parked about a ten-minute walk away, or at least to a place where a car could pick us up. Although that might not sound much of an issue, I should also mention that today was the day of the Great Manchester Run, that the porta-loos were placed right outside our hotel door, that the start line was just a little way down the street from our hotel in Portland Road, that we checked out just minutes before the race was due to begin, that our car was parked on the far side of Portland Road and that many of the roads around us were closed to traffic. We made our way through the crowd as far as Portland Road, then headed along the footpath in the opposite direction to the start line, dodging and weaving people going the other way and trying to keep our luggage under control. Eventually we came to a break in the barricades a couple of blocks from the start line, where the sea of runners was a little less crowded, so we snuck through and managed at last to cross Portland Road, taking care not to crash into any of the people hurrying for the start line with our heavy suitcases. Once we’d got across there we found a couple of streets a few blocks away that were not closed off. Rod felt he could go and get our car and return to pick us and our luggage here. While we waited for him to return, the intersection near us became a bottleneck more than once, and a battlefield on a couple of occasions. Cars and even a bus tried to go one way, only to find that they couldn’t get through. It was a very tight spot for them to turn around and come back the other way. While they were attempting that, other cars drove into the street behind them and got stuck. A very angry guy with a completely tattooed face driving a street sweeper found himself unable to do his job because cars that were stuck were blocking his path – multiple times. One time he got out of his vehicle and stormed up to a taxi driver’s door to abuse him. I have no idea why the city council would want him out sweeping the gutters on a day when they blocked all the thoroughfares around the city. Eventually Rod arrived and we very quickly piled our cases into the car and hopped in before he blocked anyone else and was abused. He managed to get a U-turn in when there was a break in the congestion and was able to get us out of there and heading away from the chaos. We still had a few hurdles to overcome, as Google Maps was now showing so many road closures blocking our way out of Manchester that we had to turn back and try alternative routes several times before we finally put Manchester behind us and were on our way to Liverpool.

It was a good road to Liverpool and we arrived just after 10am. Rod found a car park a few blocks from the place we were staying. Because we wouldn’t be able to check in to our hotel until after 3pm, we left all our luggage in the car and went for a walk through the city down to the riverfront. It was really warm and we had perfect blue skies. Liverpool was a vital port city during the Industrial Revolution, and a lot of resources and manufactured goods passed through the port, bringing great wealth to many merchants of the era. They built some magnificent structures, many of which are still standing today. Down by the Mersey River, we stopped near the huge Cunard Building to read the information panels about some of the mighty ships the Cunard Line owned. A man about our age, crossing the road, stopped on the median strip and began to point out features of the riverfront area. For the next five minutes, we listened as he gave us a history lesson on his city and told us he lived right around the corner from Sir Paul McCartney’s childhood home. He spoke quite passionately about all the great bands who played in Liverpool during his youth, including the Beatles, who were the resident band of that era at the Cavern Club.

We wandered over to Albert Dock to take a look around. In the 1800s, Albert Dock was the place where a number of my ancestors farewelled England before they boarded sailing ships and made the long voyage to down to the colonies of Victoria and New South Wales seeking greater opportunities and a better life.

One of the main reasons we’re in Liverpool is because we’ve all been Beatles’ fans since we were kids. I know Rod and I had lots of Beatles singles at home between us and even bought a few of their albums when we could afford them. We listened to their music on the radio throughout our childhood and continued to listen to it when we were adults. I’m sure it was a similar experience for Marg. Cornelia grew up in Switzerland, but she tells us that she also listened to Beatles music there and fell in love with it. She learned to speak English while she was quite young, so she knew the lyrics to all their hits just as well as we did. It was a no-brainer that we should head down to the Mersey River front, just near the Mersey Ferries terminal, to have our photos taken with the fantastic statue of the Lads from Liverpool as they appeared to be heading off to take their music to other parts of the world. It’s my favourite statue from anywhere in the world, and I felt good just standing in the midst of these four remarkable musicians.

We grabbed a bite to eat on Albert Dock, then boarded our bus for the Magical Mystery Tour of Liverpool. Over the next couple of hours, our guide Charlie and driver Ross took us on a memorable journey through the Beatles’ formative years. We passed some fantastic murals along the route, including a brilliant tribute to Ringo just adjacent to the street where he once lived, at a time when he was better known as Richard Starkey.

We passed St Peter’s parish church in Woolton, where Paul and John first met in 1957. John was playing at the church fete with his band, The Quarrymen on that day, and Paul stopped to watch them perform. He was introduced to John after the show, and soon was invited to join the Beatles. John was 16 and Paul was 15. So began a partnership that changed the path of modern music.

The bus tour visited a number of places made famous in Beatles’ songs. We hopped off at one end of Penny Lane to photograph the street sign, then drove the length of the street, past the famous barber’s shop from the opening verse. I’m sure you all know the words:

In Penny Lane, there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he’s had the pleasure to know
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello

Just past there we circled the roundabout and saw the bus shelter which also feature in the song.

Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
A pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she’s in a play
She is anyway

Amazingly, we were enjoying seeing all this beneath the same ‘blue suburban skies’ that feature in the song. We also passed a graveyard where one of the gravestones bears the name Eleanor Rigby and we stopped for a photo at the gates of Strawberry Field.

One of the most special parts of the tour was to see the childhood homes of the Fab Four. Looking at the first photo below, Ringo’s birthplace at 9 Madryn Street is immediately past the red car. The next four photos show George’s modest home at 12 Arnold Grove. The following photo of the house behind the bushy green hedge is the house at 251 Menlove Avenue in Woolton where young John lived with his Aunt Mimi, who famously told him there was no future in playing the guitar. Yoko Ono purchased this house and donated it to the National Trust to preserve its important place in Liverpool’s history. The final set of four photos are of the McCartney house at 20 Forthlin Road, where Paul’s musician father Jim invited John to bring his guitar as often as he wanted so he could make music with his son.

En route there were a few other places of interest. The first photo is the street used for filming one of my favourite TV series, ‘Peaky Blinders’, though it is meant to depict Birmingham and not Liverpool. Just around the corner from George’s home was the house once listed as the ‘smallest house in Britain’. Near Paul’s house, our bus parked at the same bus stop where Paul used to catch the No 86 bus to school. George also caught this bus, and one day Paul saw 14-year old George sitting on the bus with his guitar. They started talking, George played a tune for Paul, and the rest is musical history. Paul also referenced this bus stop in ‘A Day in the Life’.

Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat

The grey building beneath the bus photo is the Liverpool Institute for Boys, where Paul and George both studied. After it closed in the 1980s, it was reopened as the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts and Paul was its founding patron. He still attends graduation ceremonies there and presents the certificates to graduating students every year. The next photo is Liverpool Lime St Station, the world’s oldest railway station, and the final photo is St George’s Hall.

The tour finished near the Cavern Club in Mathew Street, where the Beatles performed on over 260 occasions between 1961 and 1963. Marg and I were here six years ago and had a great time, so we didn’t hesitate to visit again for a drink and a chance to hear some good music in one of the most famous music venues in the world. It’s a pretty special place for a music lover like me. The posters and wall cabinets take you on a trip through British music history, the famous curved brick ceiling, is iconic, the sound quality is brilliant, and the beer is pretty good too. We didn’t have a marker pen to write our names on the wall this time, but Marg crouched down low and found the first two letters of where she wrote her name six years ago. The final two letters had since been written over by another patron. We finally left, as we still hadn’t checked in to our hotel and it was getting late. We wandered down Mathew Street, admiring the fantatic Cilla Black statue and the music-related murals. Around the corner we found Eleanor Rigby looking lonely on a bench, so Marg and Cornelia stopped for a moment to give her some company. Walking back to our hotel in Castle Street, we passed lots of football fans with blue Everton FC scarves draped around their necks. Apparently today was the last time ever they would play at their home ground, Goodison Park, and they had a win over Southampton, so they were very happy. As I write this, it’s almost midnight, and I can still hear them singing raucously in the street outside our hotel. I don’t mind at all. If you want to make music in Liverpool, that’s all right with me.