Away for Easter, leaving early on Good Friday and spending a day with the kids in Liverpool, where the weather changed every 10 minutes and the where the choir in the Met were doing impressions - it being that particular day - of souls in torment. The cathedral, unlike the Proddy version, is a cheerless place, especially when it is windy, and stepping outside we hastened back down into town. Not much open, though did get into the Bluecoat Chambers, which has been done up and extended for the City of Culture activities. It is very lovely and a new extension, all unpainted concrete and light wood, sits nicely with the Queen Anne brickwork, repointed, of the original. Went quickly into China Town for something to eat hoping that Ma Bo would be open. No such luck, so perched across Nelson St marvelling at the views over the rooftops to the Pier Head and wondering if I was ever going to get through my chicken pineapple. Two further points of interest on a little architectural tour: some older parts of Toxteth - Faulkner St, Rodney St, Roscoe St - and those tiny little streets in the Dingle that run steeply towards the river, the houses being like steps. The view from the bottom of the hill is magnificent, the water brown and churning, and with the Birkenhead-Belfast ferry being loaded. Forget all the culture bollocks and just go for a look around.Afterwards to the family seat for a gathering of the clans and uncle Jimmy fecking fecking fecking his way through two days of eating, drinking and shouting everyone else down. An enormous quantity of whiskey was consumed.
Fled on Sunday over the Cat and Fiddle, from where this splendid photograph was taken, to see My Love, and we walked along Dovedale and found comfy leather chairs in The Izaak Walton, from where best to watch anoraked fools huffing and puffing up Thorpe Cloud.
Drove back to London yesterday, avoiding motorways but plodding along Watling St, aka the A5, from the Midlands to St Albans, where we got lost and were forced on to the M25. Buggeration.
