Well, Sarah’s back from her travels but she’s not coming on the Friday Walk.
So it’s another solo day. And this time I’ve decided to stay in my end of Liverpool, walk around places I know well, but look for things I don’t usually take particular notice of. Things that don’t usually get photographed.
It’s does have an official name, but everyone in Liverpool knows it as The Mystery, because it was donated to the City in 1895 by a mysterious donor. Though we’re now fairly certain who the donor was the lovely name has stuck.
Next, down on Smithdown Road, it’s the former Sefton Park Railway Station, on the main Liverpool to London line.
As you may know, I’m no fan of monotheism, but this seems a shame.
Next, we’re on our way into the park, Sefton Park.
Now the Sefton Park area is one of the most popular places in Liverpool to live, understandably. But just in the corner of the park we find this:
A former social housing block, sold off to some private developer who’s obviously just sitting on it until the property market ‘recovers’. The lowest form of pond life.
Talking of which:
Next a lovely terrace of houses that I’d forgotten about because it’s hidden from the road by trees and hedges.
Round the corner on Park Road, something ancient:
It’s a Unitarian Chapel and we’ve been inside.
And this lovely, gentle man spoke to us about his beliefs. ‘Well, Christ, Buddha, Krishna, they’re all the same thing really aren’t they?’
Just over the road is another precious piece of Liverpool.
We’ll see where it emerged from the tunnel later in the walk. But years after the Overhead was closed in 1956, the tunnel was used by Roscoe Engineering and we once took Sarah’s then car, a Citroen 2cv to be serviced there. And it was surreal. The cars they were servicing, and vintage cars they had all wrapped up to sell one day, were parked all the way along the tunnel.
A few weeks ago part of the tunnel roof collapsed. And some local residents who were evacuated from their homes have still not been allowed back in
Next, something very strange.
Where we’ve been, you see is ‘working class’. And when what they probably call this ‘private estate’ was being built in the 1980s, they didn’t want us lot driving through it.
And the cars that passed me were a 4×4 BMW and a Jaguar.
For another look at Alan Murray’s lovely history of Liverpool painting.
This time looking particularly at the small details in it:
I had my first look at this thing a couple of weeks ago. It’s laid out like an airport. The whole of the ground floor is a car park. Then you go up an escalator and the shop is where airport security and the duty free would be. Bizarre, and the day I was there, almost empty. It felt like that rare thing, a failing Tesco.
Until today, I’d always assumed this grand house was formerly a merchant’s mansion, turned into a residential home. but it’s not. It was built in 1884 ‘for the care of sick and disadvantaged men’and that’s what it’s still doing.
You can read more about these strange creatures in our friend Fiona Shaw’s lovely book.
Then just along Aigburth Road, in a junkshop window:
Though I do miss the days when you could tell where you were from the colours of the buses. The 82 should really be green and cream, not the same Arriva blue as everywhere else.
Getting grumpy. Must mean I’m hungry.
So, a day full of colour and noticing, even if the sky stayed the same grey for most of the time. Ordinary, everyday, lovely Liverpool.