In Liverpool: Late summer walking

As August draws to a sunny close I spend the day on a slow circular walk to the river and home again. If you’ve been reading the blog for a long time now you’ll have been on this walk with me before. But a walk is never the same twice. Things change as well as the seasons, so let’s go.

Down the far end of Penny Lane.

Beatles tourists being told Beatles stories by the Penny Lane sign.

I know most of the stories too and I nearly started a Beatles business once. I’m really glad I didn’t as their music is once again brightening my life with its fresh beauty.

New student halls coming on at the end of the lane.

Autumn coming gently on too.

I love the autumn and never mind the passing of time, futile as that would be.

Along silent almost secret Ibbotson’s Lane.

One of several ancient lanes we have that were happily never turned into roads.

While I’m walking a friend returns a call, so I sit on the grass at the edge of Sefton Park and put the world and particularly the English language to rights for half an hour or so. Unhurried.

Across the bridge in Sefton Park.

Dappled sun, reflections and ducks.

The welcome sight of boats on the lake.

Walking in brutalist shade.

Through the painted subway.

Into Otterspool Park.

Along the former bed of a river long culverted.

More gold amongst the green.

A long slow tumble of roots.

The sandstone the city is made from and built on.

Under the railway bridge.

Leaf shadows in sunlight.

Too lovely to be so long empty.

And this, newly here.

Already much loved.

On the Promenade preparations are being made.

For a festival.

The Fusion Festival.

Our walk reaches the river.

And there’s a funfair here.

Not yet time for you!

All sorts of berries are out.

But as Sarah’s away there’s no one here to identify them.

Once upon a time…

This was where the Yellow Submarine was going to dock.

Bringing people from the Pier Head to The Beatles Homeland. The business that never was I mentioned earlier.

It was going to be here on the Garden Festival site. Now the Festival Gardens.

Hyacinth.

At the lake.

Through the pagoda.

I believe the City Council either have or are taking this park over. Good job too. Though whether they’ll be able to spend the money the place clearly needs who knows?

Into St Michael’s Wood. Shadows on an ancient gate post.

The lovely church.

Every time I pass here I think of Andy Barrett. His funeral was in there a few years ago. And it’s a very big church, but it was full for Andy. A lovely, gentle, funny man.

Yes it is.

Sefton Park.

Into Lark Lane.

Lunch in Greendays?

Sadly no. I haven’t been here since my friend Carole Fleck stopped running it. But on this busy bank holiday its new owners had run out of food. Well done you, I’ll be back another day.