One of Those Days in England travel blog


Oddly antisemitic commentary. Mention a checkbook and you get a menorah

Liverpools favorite racehorse

Penny Lane and every head I had the pleasure...

Town center

The slaughtered lamb

My room key

The inn


Get your copy of American Werewolf in London out. You can see where I am. It's a full moon. I am on the moors. While the moon pops in and out of the clouds it keeps raining and I am staying at the Slaughtered Lamb...ok it's the Old Silent Inn. There is nothing else within sight. Everyone gives me an odd look when I go outside to smoke. How in the hell did I get here?

Woke in Liverpool. Didn't sleep particularly well. Too much rock n roll. The sun was shining and I looked from my balcony over the roof tops of town. Showered and checked out. I took my bags to the car park and put them in the car. I decided to do the Magical Mystery Tour as I hadn't seen some of the other Beatle sites in 21 years and driving in Liverpool is not for the faint of heart. I stopped at the Starbucks on the way.

I have never spoke the Starbucks language as it seems to be an indoctrination into their world and your wallet. After waiting 5 minutes for the single person in front of me to place their order, I did my usual "Large Coffee, please."

"Is that Cafe Americano?"

"Picture someone ordering a coffee in a 1950s movie...That's what I want." Usually they just fill it up and hand it you. But I got placed behind the order for the triple macchiato soy non fat with a Carmel drizzle. I waited and waited. The coffee I got had an oil slick on it and it tasted like ass. Oh yeah it's Starbucks. After this time waster I had to hoof it down to Albert dock to get a ticket for the 11 o'clock. Moments too late. They said if I hadn't stopped for the ass-flavored Americano I would have been on the next bus but now I had to wait for the noon bus.

That gave me time to checkout the new Liverpool ONE. I'm not sure what's all that is but they have built a bunch of new stuff on the waterfront. The echo arena, a bunch of museums, the Tate Liverpool. I went to the Liverpool Museum. I like the London museum which gives you a 'first the earth cooled then the dinasours came' approach. This was much the same but as if designed by some self loathing Emo kids with communist tendencies. The history of the docks was quite good, showing why here and the value of breaker walls and that kind of thing. Once you got to the mercantile aspect of the city the material became increasingly bizarre. There was a lengthy film on sugar which they called a drug, pointless and evil - they used those words- Ignoring the blandness of food in a prerefridgeration world, they didn't seem to realize that sugar can make ass flavored Americano slightly palatable. they have a whole floor dedicated to the workers movement in Liverpool. And they only have 3 floors. On the other hand the do loved a race horse so muc they have its skeleton on display. Unfortunately I had to leave my comrades and do the Beatle tour.

I got the wrong side of the bus. Virtually everything was on the left so I had to take pictures over people's heads. It whipped by though after a large Americano I was eager to get to the end. We did see the church where John and Paul met. Strawberry Field, Penny Lane again. By the time we're done I was at a crossroads. I was tired and I liked the hotel and thought about staying another night. On the other hand I had been sucked into Beatle world for 24 hours. I needed to get out. I walked around the town center for a few minutes. Very European. Carts selling sausages and pastries. Thousands of people doing something. They were laughing, talking, a child was sobbing, buskers, homeless people, a bald man was lying on the ground holding his head with blood pouring out as some young man called emergency services or updated his Facebook page. It was an explosion of humanity and really too much for me. I had to leave.

What's the emptiest part of England? The moors. Bronte country.

All I needed to do was get out of the car park and in so doing I pissed off half of Liverpool. I paid my ticket and stuck the voucher in my pocket. I got into the mini which is kind of like a blue whale having sex with a dolphin. Funny only from the outside. I got lost in the multilevel car park which seems to happen every day or so. I found the exit. I kind of cut someone off to get into the crowded exit lanes. This happened as I was coming from the wrong direction. I got to the unmanned ticket both and realized I didn't have my voucher. not in my pockets, not on the seat. Cars piling up behind me. Pretty quickly the guy I had cut off started honking. I took off my coat, which was not easy in the mini. I checked again, a third time. I started looking in crazy places. The glove compartment. I'd never opened it. Horns blare. I stick my credit card in. No voucher they won't let you pay. I finally hit the assistant button. I explain. He says nothing. Damnit. Oh I then noticed he'd raised the gate I pulled out without giving the guy behind me the apology wave. Too busy trying not to wreck. I did find the voucher in my cell phone. Not sure how it got there.

I headed east towards the moors. I knew they were somewhere between Manchester and York. After about an hour as the roads got increasingly smaller I saw a brown sign for the Bronte parsonage. This was a one lane road the could not accommodate 2 way traffic. The light was fading. The hills of the moors are beautiful and bleak. There would be an occasional farmhouse with a fire inside. You could see the smoke and the orange light stood our magnificently against the grey hills. It began to rain. I passed the Old Silent Inn. The New Inn was the original built here in the 1500s. Now 400 years later it's old and Silent. I cannot understand this Yorkshire accent. It's kinda Scottish and they talk real fast.

Here I sit with the Lord of the Rings on tv. The sound of early bonfire fireworks in the distance...either that or the farmers are taking care of that werewolf problem.

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