A day comes, even in these climate mess years of the long cold springs, when all is still and blue and you need to be out in it. Walking along, well me anyway, singing the long loved Lotus Eaters ode to springtime as I leave the house:

‘It’s warm in and out
The call for sacred hours…’

Everything ditched, all work left behind, you can’t get this day back tomorrow when the winds and clouds might be back.

Just walk.

Good news on the fence of The Mystery, the secret way between Smithdown and the railway tracks then out along Lawrence Road with the girls and infants at the Church of St Bridget.

On into the streets of the pound houses to check what’s going on this Thursday morning, which is not all that much, not really, to get a place living and breathing with people again. One by slowly agonising one, with all due process tediously observed, while most of the empty houses rot pointlessly yet another year in the sunshine, is not the way to do it, well I say anyway. Moving on again.

Down the hill to the University, past once municipal Myrtle Gardens, sitting awhile in Abercromby Square getting used to the place again all these years later.

‘First picture of you…’

First University pictures of where, come this autumn, I will often be to my great joy.

Lunch and long happy talking of light and photography with a friend, then late afternoon crossing into the Cathedral to see what the light might be doing which is look:

All along Hope Street to the also Cathedral, the luxury of saying that, with sound engineers testing out the theme from Doctor Who, sweeping up into the sandstone archways while tables are laid for the 1820 Liverpool Astronomical Society.

Pausing a moment to reflect on that. A wondrous place to have been having one of them since then.

Next finding the Kitty Wilkinson window, her the inventor of the wash house since back in them astronomical days, photographing her for my friends starting Kitty’s Launderette in these days soon, a beautiful idea.

Standing up last and finally by the high altar lectern like I always do, with Billy Fury before leaving:

‘Half way to paradise
So near, yet so far away’

Evening at last and walking home along Princes where I know the avenue of daffodils will be out, in this locked between two fences piece of land that was once a garden.

No one walks here now. But the daffodils come up anyway, every springtime.

‘It’s warm in and out
The call for sacred hours…’

Published by Ronnie

Writing about life, Liverpool and anything else that interests me. As well as working with others to make the world a fairer and kinder place: http://asenseofplace.com.

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  1. Something wonderful and poignant about that daffodil path. I see from the old maps that the path once went through to Mulgrave Street. I take it those new buildings put an end to that.

    1. Yes they did Martin. After many years of dereliction the land became a ‘community garden’ 20-odd years ago. Even though at the time most of the actual communities had been forced out of the Granby area. But as the neigbourhoods were built back up again, and as austerity hit, maintenance of it was no longer funded and anyway the path had stopped going anywhere. Leaving us with our current leftover beauty.

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