“If Liverpool did not exist, it would have to be invented” Felicien de Myrbach

We woke yet again untouched by the spirits trapped in the purgatory of an over heated over painted brutally lit hotel room. We set out for the Greggs and found some of the same customers there this morning. In particular an old boy that was paying no heed to the winter and was present and correct in shorts and polo shirt. This time I was served by a woman whose accent was so broad I could hardly make her out. I knew she was pumping me for more sales and was enjoying the experience after the “no eggs, maybe bacon” situation of the day before. I finally grasped that she was offering me hash browns for 70p. I agreed enthusiastically. After breakfast we packed up and were collected by our friend Derick. We were to stay with Derick and Lisa old friends from NZ who now reside in Cheshire. They generously offered to collect us from Dudley and so our first UK motorway experience ensued. We flew up the country crisscrossing between different M something or rathers. Soon we were off the motorways and heading through the Chester countryside. We parked up at Sandbach and stretched our legs. We popped into the Robinsons owned Swan & Chequers to use the toilet and have a coffee. Then it was on to Davenham with a brief stop to walk beside the canal at Middlewich on the way. Lisa put on an epic platter of scotch eggs, pork pie, farmhouse cheese, ham, bread and condiments. We then drove to the nearest train station and caught the train to Liverpool.

Arriving at Lime Street Station (I’m sure there are moves afoot to rename it John Lennon Station) we rode a slalom through busts and statues of the “Fab Four”. We wandered down to the Cavern Club which naturally was next to the Cavern Pub just across from Cavern Grub. After the obligatory photos of mum in front of the birthplace of modern pop music we managed to escape with wallets intact and walked out to the wharfs and the Liver Building. We wandered up the side of the Mersey for a way before cutting back into the town . We had two cathedrals to visit.                                                                

Liverpool specialises in ornate late Victorian / Edwardian pubs. Pubs whose interiors take your breath away. Pubs from the era of the great ocean liners and lavish moulded ceilings and colossal domed skylights. In effect cathedrals to drinking.

After walking for a bit and with bickering over directions breaking out between Lisa and Derick, we called an Uber and shot through the stately streets of Liverpool. First stop was The Philharmonic Dining Rooms. Named as it is adjacent to the Philharmonic Hall, the Phil is full of carved wood, sculptured plaster, grandiose stone and stained glass. The Gents are a particular feature so much so that a sign reads “Ladies you are welcome to tour the gents so long as they are not in use” . A frosted glass door allowed mum and Lisa to deduce that the pissers were not in action. They returned complaining that they stunk. Which goes to show how different men’s and women’s pub bogs are as they were some of the cleanest gents I have come across. The Phil was also a bastion of southern dispense with no sparklers fitted to the spouts to mess with the beer.

We ordered beer and sat in one of the palatial rooms and drunk and chatted. A group of women filed in and as we left they quizzed Derick on all the antipodean accents. We managed to retrieve him although he complained loudly that he was “in there!”

Another Uber ride and we were at The Vines. Known as the Big House it is even more impressive than the Phil. The front public bar is grand but in scale fairly subdued. We sat here initially and eat pies from the warmer with pints. I knew this wasn’t everything I had heard about this place, so I went for a scout around. As one passes into the building the scale increases from the fairly run of the mill Victorian pub scale of the public bar one passes into several massively high-ceilinged rooms the most impressive of which has a huge domed skylight that once illuminated the billiard tables. Several more beers were consumed under the dome before we set out for the station, and a train back into Cheshire, a quick ride home and a nightcap whisky. We slept with the moral certainty of pilgrims who have honoured their gods in the cathedral.