Tag Archives: Royal Liverpool Hospital

2016: A year in 30 photographs

A selection from the several thousand photographs I’ve taken this year for this blog. Taken all together they tell one story of the year. Not a definitive one, more of a meander as you might expect.

In a year that’s been turbulent in so many ways it’s been good to have this blog to come home to. A quiet place to reflect and to tell some stories. Stories of ordinary days and determined people, trying to make our part of the world a better and fairer place.

A frame round the sky. At Rotunda in Kirkdale

A frame round the sky. At Rotunda in Kirkdale

The new stand at Anfield rising in the January fog.

The new stand at Anfield rising in the January fog.

Reflection of the new Royal.

Reflection of the new Royal.

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Walking to Kensington

A shortish walk on an ordinary day, except there are no ordinary days. So even though it’s grey, a good opportunity to take some photographs of a bit of our city on a Monday in late July 2016.

From the Lodge Lane crossroads, walking along here.

From the Lodge Lane crossroads, walking along here.

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Yes, this is Falkner Street, though not as you probably know it.

Yes, this is Falkner Street, though not as you probably know it.

From the long gone days when Georgian Liverpool stretched all the way out to here. Continue reading

A Day of Interesting Places

One day in Liverpool, in the springtime of 2016. A day of several interesting places.

This day.

This day.

I’ve been in the Royal. Not the current Royal Hospital, or the new and still being built Royal.

But this one.

But this one.

Liverpool's original Royal.

Liverpool’s original Royal.

Replaced in the 1970s by a brutalist structure you've seen many times on here.

Replaced in the 1970s by a brutalist structure you’ve seen many times on here.

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Wandering About: Down to the River

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A day of reflections.

Having walked a fair bit of North Liverpool then South Liverpool in the last two days it didn’t take a genius or even me to work out today’s ‘Walking About’ route, the middle. Roughly from here in Wavertree, through L7 and L1 to the River. Let’s go.

Out across the Mystery.

Out across the Mystery.

Reflecting as I start out on a third walk in three days that there are some times when I need a lot of time on my own. Not in a melancholy way, but I don’t want to be inside and I have an elemental need to walk, alone.

The inbound London train crosses a 79D bus on Picton Road.

The inbound London train crosses a 79D bus on Picton Road.

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The pleasures of walking aimlessly

Leaving the house today with my walking boots on I don’t, as so often, know where I’m going. But walking down the road I decide I’ll get on the first bus that comes, get off it as soon as I see something interesting, and start meandering round from there.

I’m in luck, the bus is the 76. A curious beast that meanders almost all the way around the circumference of the city centre before finally giving in and turning down London Road. I’m not on it until then though because I see this.

Seen from the window of the 76 bus. A vision of brutality.

Seen from the window of the 76 bus. A vision of brutality.

I get off at the next stop for a closer look. Turns out it’s to be ‘Liverpool’s Bio Tech Hub.’ So there, another hub. I must say I’m getting very tired of the word, already turning old as an early century affectation for where we’d have merely called something a ‘centre’ or even plain old ‘building.’ Oh well, no doubt some mover-shaker go-getter with very long pointed shoes got paid a packet to come up with the term.

Here is the 'hub' in full. Just next to the coming on quickly new Royal.

Here is the ‘hub’ in full. Just next to the coming on quickly new Royal.

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A Year in 12 Photographs

Now that 2014 is over, here’s an attempt to sum up my own past year in 12 photographs.

Over the year there were 160 new blog posts and most of them contained new photographs as I wandered around, mostly, Liverpool with my camera clutched permanently in my right hand. Here’s what I saw.

The 472 to Heswall.

The 472 to Heswall.

This was the year of ‘Great Bus Journeys of the World’ all made possible, or at least cheaper, by me being awarded the freedom of my City and beyond, by way of a bus pass. So as soon as I got it, late in January, I began a new kind of exploring. Here I’ve made my first ever trip through the Mersey Tunnel on a bus. Getting on at Cook Street, where the 472 starts, to make sure I can get the front seat upstairs and get the best views through the tunnel and across the Wirral. As thrilled as any child.

The view from Ward 7Y.

The view from Ward 7Y.

I spent the early part of the year being tested and diagnosed with a relatively rare blood disorder, polycythaemia, most likely caused by a genetic defect. This included regular visits to the Royal Hospital where dedicated staff perform their daily miracles in an architectural monstrosity – with great views. Continue reading

Walking down to the Royal Infirmary

Royal Infirmary01Yes I know the Royal in Liverpool isn’t called that any more. But I’m calling it that because it sounds more like a song. You know, ‘St James Infirmary’ and all that classic jazz and blues and country stuff. And, Sunday though it is, I’m shortly off to walk to Liverpool’s biggest and ugliest hospital.

But I wanted to start all this with music. Because I’m delighted to report that my life is currently full of it. After several months of semi-deafness I’m suddenly hearing out of both sides of my head. And my joy is unconfined.

Hank and other treasures not really appreciated until now.

Hank and other treasures not really appreciated until now.

Last night, for example, I played my new-to-me 1950s Hank Williams LP three times on the run for the sheer joy of being able to hear it. This was made easier by Sarah being away at the moment. Obviously, with human company, playing anything three times on the run would be hard to get away with. But on your own? It’s my life, my LP and besides – in the months of hardness of hearing it’s one of a good few LPs I’ve barely heard at all. Until now.

Then this morning, that weird once a year long Sunday morning when the clocks have gone back and you feel all luxurious about time, I’m partly reading. But mostly putting the book down so it won’t interrupt the music. Because Cerys is on and, again, it feels like months since I’ve heard her properly. Cerys Matthews that is. And we’ve even had a short exchange, very, about how delighted I am to hear her and her Zouk and Turkish and Bowie and Dust Bowl Sunday Roast selection.Cerys1

So what’s the word? Happiness, yes that’s it. About music and about feeling well after several months of sensory deprivation. Even as I write Cerys is playing Richard Burton reading ‘Under Milkwood’ to an instrumental ‘Under Dubwood’ reggae backing. Deep joy.

So why am I about to walk down to the Royal Infirmary for a CT scan as the newly shortened day no doubt darkens? Continue reading