Tuesday, 12 November, 2019
I went to Liverpool. That city and I go back a way. I first went there as a starstruck Beatles fan. (And that’s a whole other story – of becoming a fan.) I wasn’t, as my parents suspected, going to see the Beatles though. I should have hated that city since on arrival my friend, also called Janice, had her backpack stolen with all her money. So now we had to share my money. (It’s also possible that it was I whose stuff was stolen and we shared her money – memories are odd like that.) I’ll save talking about my adventures for another time but I grew to love that city. I met a girl in the line up for the Cavern my first night there. Anne and I are still friends. And on subsequent visits I met another girl, Elsa. Elsa and I still speak often.
A few months ago, she contacted me to let me know she and her husband, Kenny, were having a fiftieth wedding anniversary at the Cavern. A few shaky days where I thought I couldn’t go and then suddenly the tickets and hotel were all booked.
We expected two days of rain but off we went. The journey was easy and the walk to the hotel fast. I wasn’t sure what to expect from our room but it turned out to be quite lovely. There was a large bed and bathroom and then down a step to a living room area. The hotel used to be part of the Bank of Wales building next door so there’s a masculine feel to everything but we were comfortable.
We wandered around a little, had a less-than-satisfying lunch, then back to the hotel before leaving for the Cavern. We were really close to it. If we went through an alley opposite the hotel we were actually right on Mathew street where the Cavern is. It’s like my feet lead me there. But it all looks so different and there are tourist things everywhere, statues of Beatles at street level and higher up on the buildings like angels or gargoyles looking down at the crowds.
It’s so clean there now, though. It used to be dirty and feel dangerous and you’d often see rats, even swarms of them, moving from warehouse cellar to warehouse cellar looking for food. No rats in sight now. I’d like to say it’s a cool area but it’s succumbed to tourists’ whims. Neon lights everywhere, souvenir shops, mediocre places to eat, tour groups…
It’s not raunchy, and the smell of disinfectant and scouse (the Liverpool stew that gives the people their name) is gone. Now there’s a smart bar and lots of neon, and posters everywhere, and framed photos of bands who played on the original stage. If you walk along the long bar you see an old red phone box. Keep going and you’re in the Live Lounge where Elsa and Kenny were having their party. Everyone knew about it – Elsa and Kenny’s bash? yeah down there, this way… My ears are immediately familiar with the accent, although Krish tells me he doesn’t understand everything and ‘Why do they want to talk like that?’ Hmm, they just do!
Things were running late. After one song by the Hideaways Krish said he had to leave, that he couldn’t can’t handle the crowd and the noise and the standing – I understood and was prepared for this – but the second song came on, Judd’s harmonica (they call it a gob iron in Liverpool) came out and Krish stayed till their set came to an end. They are all old men now, with much less hair, much more body fat, and their faces aren’t recognizable, but if you listen to their music, it’s like the years fall away. It’s all standard Liverpool 60s fare – old blues, soul – and they are having fun with it. Judd is centre-stage, sloppily dressed, looking messy, rotund, and yet the women still seek him out – you can see them. After Krish left, I looked around. Freda didn’t seem to know me this time and I was OK with that. I had a few words with Kenny and a few more with Elsa and I stayed to watch Beryl. Her voice is still strong and confident and she sings her songs as she has for decades – I know (I know) you don’t love me no more…. you really have to shake yourself that it’s now, 2019, Beryl is looking a bit frail, with thinner hair and that jawline is gone, but she’s still Beryl.
I told Elsa I had to leave and she was shocked I would leave without watching Kenny’s band. Oh, you HAVE to stay to watch Kenny’s band at least. So I stayed for two songs but. after I left, I felt bad for not staying even though I’d been standing for hours, and my ears were starting to ring and echo a bit too much for comfort.
Krish and I had a rest and then set out for a restaurant he wanted to go to across town – 15 min walk. We had a lamb tajine which was quite lovely. The appetiser and dessert were mediocre. We almost always share a meal.
Walking up to Bold Street is weird. It’s always been a nice area for eating. It’s on the way to the huge cathedral – the fifth-largest cathedral in the world and the longest. Liverpool outside the very centre and before you hit the near suburbs doesn’t seem that different, just cleaner. but the core of the city is gone. The streets are pedestrianised and, even though they’re lined with all the familiar franchise stores, they still have the same name. So you see the name of the street and there’s no recognition of what it was once. Those new streets have just appropriated the old names as if someone erased everything except the street signs. It feels odd. Bold Street is trendier and has a real road but it looks pretty much the same as it always has. There are mostly independent shops and places to eat.
There had been a big football match that day so the street and the side streets and cafes were packed with loud celebrating fans. They had the game on even in the Cavern – the music was punctuated with loud yells and celebration as the home team were winning. When we left the restaurant I’d meant to photograph the people having fun but the rain was steady and getting heavier. Continue reading “Liverpool, my old friend”