Unusually for a Friday Walk Sarah was able to come on this one, a brief gap in her funeral work occurring on a Friday for once. So, having access to the car that Sarah’s usually out in, we headed for the Wirral coastline to see how it’s been coping with the recent storms and extreme high tides, which even our slippery Tory leader now accepts are something to do with global climate change.
This is Station Road in Thurstaston, so called as it used to lead to a railway station, long gone. It’s also evidence of land enclosure, the greedy 17th to 19th century rich drawing straight lines on maps and saying ‘This bit can be mine and that bit’s yours.’ They did it all over Africa too, you can see by the borders on maps.
Yes I know, the flowers that are white, the berries are red and it’s called ‘black’. I didn’t make this nomenclature thing up.
At the end of the long straight road we reach the bustling centre of Thurstaston.
We love this place, though we’ve never managed to get in. Sadly it’s always securely locked when we’re out walking.
So in deepest winter spring is on the way.
We stop near here for our lunch and spend a happy half hour listening to the stream gurgling over the rocks. Sarah tells me she’s ‘got that sound on an app’. Not this sound, not this day, you never listen to the same river twice.
For any new readers I should explain that, along with the whole of Liverpool of course, this place and this walk are at the core of my being. We’ve both walked in this place regularly over several years now. In sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow. We are at home here and could do the walk blindfolded. But why would we want to? We read the trees and the lane’s like sacred texts and we watch over the health of the shore and the cliffs here like the carefullest of curators.
These cliffs are from the end of the last ice age, about ten thousand years old. And over these last couple of years have declined dramatically, as we’ve been witnessing on our constant walking and showing on here.
Still, the cliffs are at least drier this winter than they were this time last year. Last summer being relatively dry.
A good walk and a lovely day.
And the title of this post? More or less the title of the first Rolling Stones hits album from, I think, 1966. This could be the last time? I doubt it.