My decision not to buy breakfast turned out wise. I was possibly up in time, but it would’ve been rushed. Instead I did my usual trawl of current affairs, then headed out just before 10am.
Liverpool was still clearing up from the night before, the city centre no different to any others in the UK, night time revellers discarding fast food wrappings and various drink containers. I ignored all that, headed straight down to the docks.
I found the customs building, photographed the weird bird on top. Found it from the other side too, discovered there’s a bird on both sides. So I photographed the second one as well.
Fortunately I’d managed to miss the political party conference in the city, ending the same day that I arrived. They did leave a cabinet minister behind though.
The first museum of the day was interesting, had some good exhibits. In amongst those were 3 Victoria Crosses, something I hadn’t known. I held it together then walked into the part of the museum depicting the city’s sporting heritage, where I didn’t hold it together. I’m not sure if it’s coincidence but the opening section of the celebration of Liverpool’s musical heritage had Gerry and the Pacemakers quietly singing an eternal anthem the other side of a partition from an exhibit taking people through the events of April 1989 and its aftermath. I lost it.
The history and development of the docks was interesting, a good overview of how the city had progressed and grown from its hunter gatherer roots.
I walked along those docks, found my second museum of the day. Big exhibits on the Titanic and the Lusitania but I enjoyed other parts more. Models galore, some of them ten foot long, ships and boats of all types. The exhibit on Customs was less interesting, except the items confiscated at the border. Including a pair of sandals with a knuckle duster in the sole, because of course you need to smuggle that into the country.
One floor of the building was dedicated to another museum. I walked in, dodged around 80 school children, took a quick scan round.
It was propaganda, the educational value lost in hyperbole and an exploration of traditional African life. No mention of Arab slavery, Islamic slavery, the Barbary pirates and their predations on Western Europe, no mention of the role of the UK in ending the trans-Atlantic slave trade, in ending slavery across its vast empire, no mention of the slaves taken by the Romans or the Vikings, not even a mention of the five slaves living in Liverpool in the 11th Century. No, this museum was only interested in one very specific type of slavery. Even the wall by the lifts that mentioned women being sex trafficked in modern times felt an afterthought, an embarrassed display because someone had given them an exhibit.
I left that place, checked the nearby docks. Nightlife for tourists, no culture in sight, grand old buildings hosting national chains. A small kiosk offering information about a local boyband, expensive bars and cafes. I walked off, found a cafe full of locals. It was expensive too, £13 for coffee and a club sandwich. The sandwich arrived with no frills, no side salad, chips, fries. A sandwich, on a plate.
A very nice sandwich though, and a welcome sit down after over two hours on my feet.
With renewed energy I headed in search of culture. I found it in the form of street art, graffiti and murals. One I didn’t even see until I turned around to check my bearings, see if I was where I thought I was. I’m glad I did, a mural of Klopp. I took a photo (on my proper camera, so not able to post here).
I can post something that amused me. Liverpool’s Monopoly board won’t be putting Park Lane in the premium section.
Trudging through the rain I sort of found the place I was seeking. It wasn’t quite what I’d expected, a vast warehouse filled with tiny stalls, each selling some form of tat. Cheap jewellery, cheap clothing, old football shirts, various carvings, pictures and far too much soap. I opted against the fudge, £3.80 for a 50g bar, but did buy something to upset my work colleagues.
As I left the rain got heavy, but I was already ready to head back to the hotel. I’d spent the day dodging bus tours, walking tours, a queue for a Mersey boat tour, a dozen school groups, Liverpool a surprising popular autumn destination. I thought I’d gone off peak. I headed roughly in the direction of the hotel, soon found myself on the road last night’s restaurant is on, walked past it.
The hotel was welcome, my room a haven from the noise. I’d only been gone for a bit over 4 hours but my knees were feeling it, and I had plans for the evening.
Those plans started while it was still light. Back to St George’s Hall, this time inside. It has a nice ceiling.
I was there to look at it, for half an hour. I slumped back on a beanbag, looked up. Music happened. Projectors lit up the ceiling. It was mostly excellent, good use of the ceiling features, repeated themes, a step up from the visualisers I can install on my PC.
Back to the hotel, rest my legs some more, the day’s walking causing chafing I didn’t want to make worse.
That gave me another almost two hours of rest before heading out for dinner with a friend. He’d travelled from Manchester so we grabbed somewhere near the hotel, as he’d parked by it. Pizza with DOP cheese – basically the EU designated place of origin, but in Italian. It was nice enough.
As he headed home I retreated to my hotel room, so I could write and post this, then early night – up early for the train home. It’s the same hotel as last night.
Total distance walked is over 11km including the route to the docks and back. I’m not sure how accurate the Garmin distance measurement is, I think it missed a lot of walking inside museums; total distance is based on step counts.
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