We’d debated heading to the Greenwich Observatory before we left for Liverpool. It having been a late night at the Ceremony of the Keys, though, we opted for sleeping in, having a leisurely breakfast, and packing. It proved to be a good plan.
If you expand the photo and look closely, you’ll see Cait and Mark on our balcony (the lowest).
So it was back to Canada Water one last time, then to Euston Station for the train to Liverpool – Lime Street. We passed by many well-kept farms and a few small industrial areas that had seen better days, arriving in Liverpool at about 4 p.m. Then a short hike to our destination — Roscoe House. Our friend Jean Catharell had spent a good bit of time reviewing lodging options with us, and I had settled on that site as ideal both in atmosphere and in location.
View from the back window
There was a bit of a mix-up with the room that doesn’t bear repeating here, as everything was eventually sorted out satisfactorily, and I was able to place a call to Jean. Jean was one of those friends I knew only by voice and writing; we had never met, and I was excited to have the chance at last. In fact, I was so excited, it never occurred to me to snap a photo or two with her.
Jean met us downstairs and we headed out on foot for Mathew Street and other areas of note. The restaurant we stopped out turned out to have had a major overhaul in management and theme, with a hostess who looked as though she’d stepped out of “The Jetsons,” but we were able to chat and the food was tasty. Jean outlined various sites that might fit our interests and we took a leisurely walk back — just enough to help us keep our bearings when we set out on our own the next day. (Thank you, Jean!)
Liverpool is quite insane on a Saturday night. We saw partiers dressed as the Mario Brothers, Wizard of Oz characters, and lots of boas and tinsel. Jean explained that it’s a big town for hen and stag parties, and that everyone is just there to have a good time. Considering the scanty dresses on the young women in the 40 degrees Fahrenheit temperatures, I suppose they had to keep warm somehow! Jean also noted the heavy police presence, and explained that they’re not there to intimidate the partiers — they’re there to make sure no one causes trouble for them. That did seem to be the case, and put things in a happier perspective. It reminded me of if Mardi Gras were every weekend, but everyone there seems to take it in stride.
The Roscoe House is not a bed and breakfast, but our room was a studio apartment with kitchenette, which suited us well. After supper we bought some small supplies for the kitchen and headed back to plan our next day. Cait was ready to turn in, but Mark and I wanted to sample at least a bit of the night life. One Guinness later at a raucous pub playing all-American 50s and 60s music later, though, we were ready to call it a night.