The other side of Liverpool...
Our three days in Liverpool so far have been defined very clearly. Friday was the fleshpots of the rough end of Liverpool, Saturday was popular culture with The Cavern and The Philharmonic (great men's loos if you're interested) and yesterday was all about the serious stuff. First port of call was the old courts where various 'scallies' met a fairly gruesome end. Unfortunately much of it was closed due a wedding happening later in the day - quite fitting when you come to think of it...
It was then down to the newly refurbished and reopened library. This is what I have discovered that I love best about Liverpool. They are so honest and faithful to the past, and in this library, amidst the wood and metal was a Victorian Reading Room, which looked like something out of Harry Potter. Small spiral staircases took you up to the upper shelves of books, and it was a truly magical place. Once I had circumnavigated the room, I found the husband with his head in a book about Russian politics. He'll be donning that fur hat of his and storming the Kremlin next.
The Catholic and Anglican cathedrals were next on the culture list, and the Catholic one was a real disappointment I'm afraid. It would appear that shortly after completion, the place started leaking and generally falling to pieces, creating a repair bill of £6m. All I could think of is the architect standing there on Day one with his plans, when a van of Irish paddies tipped up, asking if he wanted the gutters emptied or some tarmacking done. You get what you pay for it would seem.
The Anglican Cathedral, on the other hand, was beautiful and I took great pleasure in the fact that there was a gravestone outside for a brave man with the same surname as mine, who had been awarded the Victoria Cross. I like to think that somewhere down the line we might have been related. It's unlikely though. Rumour has it that one of my ancestors spent most of the war hiding in a tree at the end of a relation's garden. Yes, that sounds more like it...
We finished off our day of culture with a French Onion Soup and a bowl of Moules Mariniere at a tiny French Bistro we stumbled across, managing to offend another couple of people by telling them how lovely the food was. When we got no response whatsoever, we looked at each other in a 'Not again' sort of way. But it turned out they were German this time...
Getting up from our chairs after an hour's lunch, the husband and I realised that Liverpool had finished us off. Between the two of us, we had one hip and two feet which were functional, so it was back to the hotel for time out and a last drink at the bar.
Today, I hand my husband back to our children, the dogs and his work colleagues. It's been lovely having him to myself for a few days, but as we know, all good things come to an end. We have both fallen in love with Liverpool, and will take home many happy memories. However, as you know, the husband will have more memories that I do.
Friday night is still a complete bloody mystery...
It was then down to the newly refurbished and reopened library. This is what I have discovered that I love best about Liverpool. They are so honest and faithful to the past, and in this library, amidst the wood and metal was a Victorian Reading Room, which looked like something out of Harry Potter. Small spiral staircases took you up to the upper shelves of books, and it was a truly magical place. Once I had circumnavigated the room, I found the husband with his head in a book about Russian politics. He'll be donning that fur hat of his and storming the Kremlin next.
The Catholic and Anglican cathedrals were next on the culture list, and the Catholic one was a real disappointment I'm afraid. It would appear that shortly after completion, the place started leaking and generally falling to pieces, creating a repair bill of £6m. All I could think of is the architect standing there on Day one with his plans, when a van of Irish paddies tipped up, asking if he wanted the gutters emptied or some tarmacking done. You get what you pay for it would seem.
The Anglican Cathedral, on the other hand, was beautiful and I took great pleasure in the fact that there was a gravestone outside for a brave man with the same surname as mine, who had been awarded the Victoria Cross. I like to think that somewhere down the line we might have been related. It's unlikely though. Rumour has it that one of my ancestors spent most of the war hiding in a tree at the end of a relation's garden. Yes, that sounds more like it...
We finished off our day of culture with a French Onion Soup and a bowl of Moules Mariniere at a tiny French Bistro we stumbled across, managing to offend another couple of people by telling them how lovely the food was. When we got no response whatsoever, we looked at each other in a 'Not again' sort of way. But it turned out they were German this time...
Getting up from our chairs after an hour's lunch, the husband and I realised that Liverpool had finished us off. Between the two of us, we had one hip and two feet which were functional, so it was back to the hotel for time out and a last drink at the bar.
Today, I hand my husband back to our children, the dogs and his work colleagues. It's been lovely having him to myself for a few days, but as we know, all good things come to an end. We have both fallen in love with Liverpool, and will take home many happy memories. However, as you know, the husband will have more memories that I do.
Friday night is still a complete bloody mystery...
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