Liverpool Reunion day 2 - Ferry

21^st May 2016.  Les has organised a packed programme for us today. First up, after a leisurely breakfast is an open-top bus tour of the city. Experience has taught me that open top bus tours are the best way to get your bearings when visiting a city for the first time. The IPDG and I have done this all over the world, from Bath to San Diego, and generally the tours have been excellent, with local guides full of enthusiasm and pride for their city. The only downside for us is that the upstairs part of the bus is not usually accessible, so we have to sit downstairs.

Liverpool Open-top bus

Today we were glad to be downstairs, as we had checked today’s weather forecast, and rain was due this morning. I’m not sure all of our travelling companions were aware of this, as there was a stampede to the upstairs deck, which was open to the elements. A few spots of rain started to fall as we boarded the bus, which wouldn’t have been a problem, but within a couple of minutes it turned into a downpour. There was another stampede now, this time to get out of the rain, as the downstairs part of the bus became packed, with standing room only.

Shop front showing support for Liverpool FC

The initial feeling of smugness I felt at choosing the correct part of the bus was replaced with the usual dilemma – should I offer my seat to a more deserving person? This is a problem I have regularly encountered, going back to my school days. The decision was easy then, I was told to ‘get up and let the lady sit down’. I had no problem with that, I knew where I stood, literally. When I left school, things were still quite easy, after all most people on the bus were older than me, and even if they weren’t older, I’d be trying to impress them with my selflessness.

Is it starting to rain?

Then there was a gap of about 30 years, when I drove everywhere and hardly ever used public transport. But then one day my employers decided I would be just the right person to take up a vacant position in Brixton, South London, and I joined that intensely put-upon group of people called commuters. Now my travel plans were constantly at the mercy of train breakdowns, strikes by railway workers, leaves on the line and even the wrong type of snow. Also I had to face the problem of whether or not to offer my seat to others on crowded trains. It was very difficult to know what to do for the best. For a start, I seemed to be older than most other people on the train, so why should I give up my seat to someone younger and probably fitter than me?

Could be a museum

On the way to work in the morning, the train started from Shepperton, so I always had a seat. However as the train stopped at other stations (17 in all) on its way to London, more people got on, until eventually there was standing room only. I convinced myself that I didn’t need to offer up my seat in the morning, as I invariably had a window seat, and it would cause too much chaos if I tried to offer it to someone else. However in the evening I could normally only find an outside seat, so I felt in the firing line. My decision on whether I gave it up or not was usually made randomly, based on whether I liked the look of the woman (I never would give up my seat to a man unless he looked like he was really struggling). Sometimes there was embarrassment, when the woman for whom I had vacated my seat said ‘I’m fine thanks’ or words to that effect, which always made me feel like a fool. On other occasions, I felt a warm glow of self righteousness at my gallantry, like the time when a pregnant woman almost cried with gratitude.

An indistinguishable building....

......And another

A statue of somebody

Anyway, back to today. As the DGs and their consorts came downstairs on the open top bus, soaking wet from the deluge that had arrived as we set off, I looked around for someone to give my seat to, but no-one was looking my way, so I took that to mean they were all happy to be standing up. Also I was on the inside seat, which would have made it awkward, or so I convinced myself, and I settled down to enjoy the views of a rain-sodden Liverpool afforded by my bus window.

Could be Trafalgar Square for all I know

Liverpool has two cathedrals, an Anglican one and a more recently built Catholic one, called the Metropolitan. We passed them both, but I could hardly see anything out of the rain lashed windows, which were also starting to steam up. We passed Universities, Museums and various other important landmarks such as the Liver Building, but I didn’t see any of them. The guide kept our spirits up with a non-stop stream of facts, stories and gossip about the City and its people, with plenty of amusing anecdotes. One fact we were given was that the area around today’s waterfront was originally marshland, and the grass that grew there was called ‘liver’, hence the name Liverpool derived. I have failed to find any reference to the naming of Liverpool which corroborates that explanation, but that’s what the guide said so who am I to argue?

I think this is a cathedral....

.....And this might be another

Towards the end of our tour the bus drove alongside the Mersey, and through the rain and mist we could just make out the Mersey ferry approaching the pier. The next leg of our trip today was to be a ride across the Mersey on that very boat, immortalised by the Gerry and the Pacemakers’ song. I hoped the rain would ease off by then, or we wouldn’t be seeing very much.

There is supposed to be a Mersey ferry in this picture

As if by magic, the rain did ease off as we alighted from the bus, and by the time we had got on board the ferry and obtained a hot chocolate from the café, the rain had stopped completely. I had thought that the ferry just plied between Liverpool and Birkenhead, but it actually makes a couple stops, at Seacombe, then Woodside, and back to Liverpool. One of the ferries has had a fancy paint job, and is called the Dazzle ferry. I saw this when we came to Liverpool last year, but thought there were several painted like this, but it seems there is just one. It’s paint scheme commemorates the First World war, when ships were painted different colours to baffle enemy U-boats and aircraft.

Dazzle ferry

As the clouds cleared, we got some good views of landmarks on both sides of the river. Some of the grandest looking buildings on the Birkenhead side turned out to be ventilation shafts for the different Mersey tunnels. They are marvels of architecture, despite their use being somewhat mundane. On the Liverpool side, we had grand views of the Royal Liver building, with the famous birds securely strapped to the top.

Queensway Tunnel ventilation tower

Good view of the Liver building from the ferry

It was lunch time now, and as we got off the ferry, we made our way to a bustling Restaurant on Albert Dock, where we had a very merry buffet lunch laid on for us. The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering around the Merseyside Maritime Museum; what an amazing place that was. In one area they had recreated a dockland street scene from 19^th century Liverpool, where you could imagine you were one of the 9 million who emigrated from Liverpool to various parts of the world in the hope of a better life. There were other displays telling the stories of the hardships faced by these people, who came from all across Europe to reach Liverpool. So fascinating was it that I never got to see the other 90% of the Museum before it was time to leave. I must improve my time management.

Now we were off back to the Hotel for a short late afternoon rest. Over another fine dinner in the Hotel the DG’s exchanged reminiscences of their year. One of the most amusing came from David Palmer, DG of London District. He told the story of a visit to one of his clubs, who met in an upstairs room of a pub in North London. What he hadn’t immediately realised was that customers of the pub had to walk through their meeting room to get to the toilets, and there wasn’t much in the way of sound proofing between the rooms. I had a good laugh at his description of trying to make a speech whilst some, shall we say, intimate noises were coming from the toilet, before a red-faced man emerged and made his way back to the bar.

The IPDG chats to Martin and Wendy Williams

Doug, Rosemary,  Stuart, Janice, Tim

During the meal, arrangements were discussed for next year’s reunion, which Stan Keller will organise in his Essex District. The year after that we will go to Scotland, and the following year the South Coast. I think it will be a while before the IPDG’s turn comes up. After breakfast there were fond farewells, before we all headed off home. I was pleased that we drove past the famous Penny Lane on the way home, as it hadn’t been included on the bus tour.