Up north

Terrace houses in a Liverpool back street

Liverpool, UK – Work took me to Liverpool last weekend. Given most Londoners’ opinions of anywhere north of Camden, I didn’t expect too much from it.

But it was a really cool place. As a city it was small enough to walk around in an afternoon. But it was also deathly quiet.

Rounding one corner I was suddenly confronted by an enormous crowd. What was going on? I looked in the direction everyone else was staring and pointing. Halfway up a building an enormous mechanical spider, 50 or 60 metres in diameter, hung from the exterior.

It turned out La Machine was in town. Later that night I would see it ‘walk’ down the main street, simultaneously scaring and enchanting the thousands of people who had gathered to watch it. And then in a hail of water cannnons, explosions and fireworks it disappeared down the Mersey Tunnel.

La Machine

Party town
I tried to keep up as everyone dispersed, the old going home and the young hitting Liverpool’s awesome bars and clubs. Here’s how I described it to my friend in an email afterwards:

“Just got back from three days up north in Liverpool for work. Now there’s a party town. Everyone’s friendly, the girls get unbelievably done up to go out (think skirts or dresses, hardly any jeans) and its cheaper than London. Only thing is I couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

“An example On the train up, about half an hour our of Liverpool, two blokes got on. Trackies, shaved heads, cans of Stella. From the strange way they were talking I honestly thought they were Polish. Until one of them caught my eye and said “Ow you going lad? Alrigh?” I nodded politely but barely caught the rest of what he said. Such a thick accent! Mind you, no one up there understood me either. Ordering lunch one day was a serious exercise in miscommunication between Scouser and Aussie. Hilarious.”