It’s wonderful to see the great old city of Liverpool emerging from the decline into which it fell in the seventies and eighties.
Of course, it originally became a great old city only thanks to the slave trade, but hey, no-one’s perfect and they saw the error of their ways back in the nineteenth century. So it was sad to see them sink as low as they did at their worst.
Danielle and I celebrated the rejuvenation of Liverpool by a visit first to Crosby Beach, just to the North of the Docks, and then the city. We went with our neighbour Melanie and her eleven-year old son George.
The Angel of the North
Crosby Beach is famous for the work of Anthony Gormley, sculptor of the Angel of the North. He’s put 100 cast iron human figures on the beach, scattered randomly, and all the way down to the water – in fact a lot of them are immersed at high tide. Seeing them is eerie and magical.
Crosby Beach with the figures scattered across the sands
Louche encounters on Crosby Beach. The character in the middle didn't have much to say for himself
In Liverpool itself, we found a spot with one of those kid-trap fountains: you know, the water jets spring out of the pavement and tempt kids to run through them. First time, they get away with it. Second time, maybe they get away with it. They get more and more daring. Suddenly, they’re caught right in the middle as the jets come up and soak them.
George tempts providence
Inevitably George travelled home in his own personal puddle. A Liver-puddle perhaps?
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