In the evening of the day, all work done, we sit down and we talk.
Maybe it’s because we’re in the dark time of the year, when the evening seems to last for half the day, that’s made me so conscious of evenings? Or maybe it’s because I’ve been reading a book? A bit of both probably.
Anyway, have you ever thought about how many evenings you’ve spent talking with the significant person or people in your life? Or about how much all the conversations you’ve had over all of those evenings with these people have contributed to who you are and the life you’re living? Well I have, and ‘a lot’ is the answer to both of these questions.
Evenings are the focus of my thinking and the title of what I’m writing here because they’re the time my significant person and I mostly spend together, our different jobs of work done for the day. We’ve been together, Sarah and I, for 25 years or so now and, minus time spent away working and on a few separate holidays, sea kayaking for example, that all multiplies up to about nine thousand evenings we’ve spent together.
Resuming our complete walk of the Leeds Liverpool Canal, by the end of this walk we’ll be very conscious that we are now walking through the heartland of the industrial history of the north of England. Burnley, as you’ll see from this post and the next one, is a fantastic place that is a privilege to walk through
These walks also mark the end of our doing each canal section as a separate day trip. We’re now too far from home for that, so have booked ourselves a long weekend away in Barnoldswick. A place so far into East Lancashire that it feels just like Yorkshire.
A friendly pub that we go to and a café that we don’t call their place ‘Barlick.’ so maybe all the locals do? We wouldn’t presume to know.
A few weeks ago I had a walk round Stanley Park with my friend Rachael O’Byrne one winter’s morning. Well today we walked there again, with some other friends, because spring is on its way and we’re going to watch it carefully as it turns up in our lovely Stanley Park.
When I told a friend I’d been to Rotunda he’d never heard of them. “What is it?” he said “What do they do?” I took a deep breath and said roughly this:
“Basically they’re a community led place that’s there to improvise whatever help’s needed around whoever comes through their Kirkdale door. Alternative education for the young, adult education, counselling, legal advice, loads of community stuff, a business centre, a café that’s also a history resource, a nursery, a gorgeous garden round the side & a big space out the front for events – plus advocacy for the future of North Liverpool. From a beautiful row of Georgian houses on Great Mersey Street. Oh and they’ve also got their own folly.”
In case you know as much about Rotunda as my friend I’ll tell you how to get there.
I’ve walked through Stanley Park occasionally on this blog when I’ve been doing one of my general inspections of Liverpool but I’ve never stayed long enough to write a whole post about the place. In the bright winter sunshine of yesterday I decided to put that right.
Sometimes in our lives, if we are lucky, we get to spend some time in somewhere that’s so beautiful that when we look back at our photos only two short weeks later, we can barely believe we were ever there. Today me and Sarah want to show you Ilnaculin, a tiny island in West Cork.
Writing this on the Ianrød Eirann train from Kent Station, Cork to Heuston Station in Dublin, after a week of quiet days in West Cork. Well mostly quiet and mostly West Cork, though we began and ended with nights in a hostel in Cork City. Bunk beds and excitable young voices in there, us taking refuge those evenings in the city’s pubs. The Sin É for the music, the history and the new out last year Rising Sons beer, brewed all of 800 meteres away. And the Shelbourne Bar for rare whiskeys we’d never afford and food you could send out for from the local cafés, such a civilised idea.
Mostly though quieter days of quieter thoughts far along the Beara Peninsula in furthest West Cork, hanging right out into the Atlantic Ocean.
‘Busy doing nothing’ but actually doing rather a lot. My partner Sarah Horton takes us to a Lido in Stroud and to pretty well everywhere in Bath – with added opinions. Take it away Sarah!
My ‘weekend in Bath’ actually begins in nearby Stroud. I am visiting my dear friend Gemma here, and she has found a monkey puzzle tree for my Monkey Map project. It’s in Stratford Park and we visit it on our way to the pool.
And the pool here is no ordinary municipal swimming pool. No, it’s an open air swimming pool, or a lido.
Through the ancient turnstiles, and into the pool.
A (splendid) late breakfast with a friend here, ended with me setting off on another of my random walks down the far south end of Liverpool. Previous Aigburth walks have featured the suspected Magdalene Laundry we didn’t want and the planned Aigburth Docks we never got. Let’s set off up a road I don’t think I’ve ever walked along, certainly not with a camera, and see what we find.
A long narrow road where, as you can see, they’re touchy about parking. It’s gently suburban now, but as you can see from the age of the sandstone walls, older and maybe grander houses have stood here once.