Another photo turns up together with it early this Saturday afternoon, of Clare’s whole family, taken by my friend Patricia Levey-Bennett. Continue reading ““Here’s to strong women””
In the pub after the second ever showing of ‘Without These Walls’
It’s on Catharine Street, The Caledonia, and has always been there. A good basic pub that went through a few years where it tried out being a launderette too. Not now. These days it’s independently run, does great food, great music and positively encourages the bringing in of dogs. A group of us went there last night.The musicians who gradually assembled around us didn’t have any specific name on the June programme on all the tables. Just ‘Cajun Session.’
You know the sound. Accordion driven, gently compulsive, occasional vocals in a French that’s never been to France. Enthralling. Continue reading “Caledonia: Liverpool”
We decided to have a day out last weekend. We being me and Gaz, my boyfriend. There is only one specific requirement for our days out, and that’s to be near water. Everywhere I go to walk, or so it habitually seems, involves proximity to water. I was a lifeguard for many years – I’ve been called Water Baby and Little Otter in the past – so maybe it’s just something in my blood?
Rebecca suggests we go to Hilbre Island. Rebecca is my niece and you will get to meet her in a bit, along with Rachael, my other niece, who both decide they will join us for the day as they often do and have done since they could walk. We used to visit all sorts of interesting places when they were little (I tell them) …well, interesting to us as adults, or at least we convinced ourselves they were interesting. Motivated by the fact we had to get our money’s worth out of the English Natural Heritage pass we bought on a whim one year. We’d think nothing of making a 3 ½hr round trip to places as far afield as Shropshire to visit the sapling of the famous Royal Oak Tree.
Now, you might think three and a half hours in a car on a hot sunny day to visit a tree sounds like madness, but it was a surprisingly easy sell to a five and six year old, and we’d justify it by telling ourselves that they would be grateful for the experiences when they get older. In fact, when I tell Rachael that I’m writing this blog and including a few pictures from our visit there, she tells me she has absolutely no recollection of it whatsoever, or of the many other places we visited when they were younger! But she softens the blow with the addendum that all our days out were good and that what she remembers most is the lovely picnics.