This time we’re going to be walking from Burscough, where we left off last week, all the way to Wigan. Though in fact our journey begins where it will end, at Wigan. (Now we’re walking a good way away from home we’re beyond local Liverpool transport and so are driving to where we’ll finish each day and using their local transport to get to where we’ll walk from.)
After a month’s gap due to bad weather, colds and sea Kayaking (not me) our walking along the Leeds Liverpool Canal continues on a beautifully sunny and warm spring day, the Saturday before the clocks go forward.
We’ve both missed this time together and are glad to be back where we left off.
On the bus from the centre of town then, back to where we left off at Wally’s Steps for the second section of our walk from here to there along the whole of the Leeds Liverpool Canal. 127 miles to Leeds with 119 to go. Today we’ll cover the 8 miles from Aintree to Downholland Cross. Quality graffiti here. So today will we be Riders on the Storm who will Break on Through to the Other Side? Well.
It’s a ‘paramo’ thing and apparently ‘jacket’ is hardly the word for something that will prove to keep her warm, keep her dry, keep her cool, keep her ventilated and be her best friend when other humans, me, aren’t quite up to the mark. It’s a miracle. And you can keep canal maps in the front. Continue reading
A series of walks, in an as yet unknown number of sections, where Sarah and I will walk to Leeds along the Leeds Liverpool Canal.
We began this walk last Sunday by walking through this magic doorway and then having the idea of walking all of the rest of the way to Leeds over the next few months.In the week since then our resident map maker Sarah has been planning the possible sections of the walk and we’ve both got quite excited about doing something so obvious we wonder why it took us so long to think of it.
Today’s sunny meanderings took in the sad remnant of the Liverpool Show on the Mystery, the thronged remembering of the Battle of the Atlantic down on the river, making sure the goslings and the cygnets are all right in Sefton Park (they are) and tea on the allotment with Sarah and Gemma.
The Mystery, just by our house, place of the Liverpool Show of my childhood memories. Once a thing of splendour (120,000 people turned up on one day in 1965) and even of animals and agriculture, now reduced to the diminished spectacle of this little fair, still turning up on the annual weekend when it used to have much more company.
So I got the bus down to the Pier Head. Continue reading
A joint post today by two of the boys from Mr Keith’s class in 1965.
Sparked by lots of comments on here and on Twitter about the awfulness of blancmange a few days ago, even involving the band Blancmange themselves in the end, I thought it might be good, in a perverse sort of way, to do a post about the general awfulness of food in the 1960s.
So I got in touch with Barry Ward, hero of the 1963 birthday party incident and one of my boyhood best friends, and suggested we both dredge through our food memories. Which we duly did.
Only to come to a conclusion that surprised both of us. Food in the 1960s was actually quite good. Continue reading