The Artist – Jonathan Greenbank

We start with art, and an excellent exhibition at The Atkinson entitled The Ties That Bind, all about relationships and how they have inspired artworks through the ages. My personal highlight was the animated neon messages by the ever impressive Tracey Emin.

Now, whilst probably my favourite time of year, September & October are busy months. I used to write about ‘Wake Me Up When September Ends’ by Green Day, because of how stressful some of it can be, but then recently found out two possible meanings behind that ballad and it doesn’t seem appropriate now.

There’s a much more pleasant, and certainly more relevant, tune for this year at least, because I became something of a TikTok revelation a couple of months ago thanks to a chance meeting with the brilliant Still Ryan on Goodison Road in which I mentioned a savoury dish no longer on sale at the ground, lamented its absence. Pretty much every day since I’ve had it repeated to me, shouted down corridors, been asked about it or been told that I’m on TikTok.

If I’ve done anything to raise the profile of the Preston Pie or Catholic Pie as it’s also known, maybe even get it on the menu at that traffic cone / Tesco with the blue lights that continues to grow gracefully out of the Mersey, looking better with every view, then I’m very proud, as I was of some of the bizarre comments the video gained when it went viral. Ryan himself called me a ‘f***ing legend’ which was good enough for me, and the dish also found favour with music royalty: this dish is also mentioned in the Paul and Linda McCartney song ‘Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey’, which contains the lyrics, “I had another look and I had a cup of tea and butter pie”.

Talking of surreal viewing, we thoroughly enjoyed the crazily brilliant Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (the end is amazing) and Daddy Issues (I cried at one point, the “she’s the best thing in my life” quote about his daughter from the ever brilliant David Morrissey) and then the excellent second series of Colin from Accounts as well as the perfect final scene of the third series of The Bear, with the brilliant Laid by James getting a new lease of life.

All this early 90s nostalgia was tinged with sadness, though, with the passing of Toto Schillaci.

Having an Italian teenager stay with us during Italia ’90 meant the tournament was extra special in the eyes of my ten year old self, and it’s the image of this balding Sicilian (not Gazza’s tears, Rijkaard’s spit or Maradona’s outburst) that stays with me the most. His death uncovered this gem, I’d not seen before:

And it led to me also recapturing a VHS from my youth that brought back so many forgotten memories; yes, the wondrous Goals Galore compilation from Italia 90 https://youtu.be/hqnuD-LgoYE?si=Pxpm2nFJeR28AZkl

There was more joy to be had via the excellent new series Ludwig, evoking as it did the films of Wes Anderson, the genius of the now departed Inside No 9, especially the crossword compiler episode, and the scenery reminding me of the much missed The End of the F*****ng World, which is what it felt like when we had to juggle birthday parties and days out amidst the arrival of dreaded headlice for the first time ever!

Then came a chance trip to the Newcastle game, when B was sat about twenty seats away so I could keep an eye on her during a dour game, and a week later the perfect gentleman Duncan Ferguson visited our ex-servicemen’s club to pay tribute to a very ill member and my sitting in his seat then, serendipitously happening upon my portrait of him in the loft during a clear out!

Talking of portraits, and inspirations – you’d think I plan this, not just use a stream of consciousness approach – the great Sir Peter Blake sent some of his Razzle Dazzle flags into my workplace courtesy of Tate Liverpool and I was overjoyed to be able to display one of the forty designs in my workspace so I can see it every day.

Other great things over the past couple of months have included The Penguin, a clever and quite unusual back story of Oswald Cobblepot which reminded me to watch the most recent incarnation of The Batman (St George’s Hall looked so impressive, even if The Walker (where Blake’s love affair with Liverpool started, as he won the John Moores Prize sixty years ago)was digitally removed from the landscape) and then the bleak but powerful Threads – like a Richard Hawley inspired episode of Black Mirror – which is available on iPlayer and tells the story of a nuclear war hitting the people of Sheffield.

I also started reading, and loving, the newly released Stanley Tucci book – What I Ate in a Year – in which he documents everything he ate in 2023, but also gives an insight into life as a parent and a film star as well as his post cancer saliva issues. An upcoming weekend for us without kids was summed up nicely by an extract from his April 5 last year – funnily enough, our wedding anniversary – and made us feel better about being childfree for forty eight hours after a trying few weeks transitioning into a new term, routine etc:

“The grandparent indulges the grandchild’s desires. That’s one of the reasons why kids usually love visiting them.”

As too do the parents! The start of a much needed week off brought with it another great evening at Lucilla Theatre, for a hilarious performance of The Fishpool Working Men’s Club, then an evening spent in a pub catching up over rubbish football before a cheeky kebab, then the next day, the long awaited visit to Moor Hall.

It was recently named number three in the top 100 restaurants in the UK, and everything about this visit underlined why it is held in such high regard. I’ve written before about some of the brilliant meals we’ve been fortunate to experience over the years, including other places on the list such as L’Enclume, Northcote (all lower than Moor Hall, which was initially a surprise until we’d been and then realised why) We’d been wanting to go for a while, having read so much about what chef Mark Birchall has achieved there, but were able to enjoy a sublime Sunday lunch there earlier than expected because of the generosity of others: a very kind gesture as recognition for our celebrating twenty years in education earlier in the summer, from my uncle Stan and Lisa over in California who themselves really want to visit when they are next over.

As the song went:

Autumn days when the grass is jewelled
And the silk inside a chestnut shell.
Jetplanes meeting in the air to be refuelled.
All these thing I love so well

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget.
To say a great big
Thank You
I mustn’t forget

I’m sure, when they read this, they’ll realise how special an occasion it was, and will be booking a flight and a meal especially!

From the drive into the serene surroundings, walking through the kitchen garden and seeing the myriad jars on the windowsill then upon entering, and being given the warm welcome, to the cosy environment of the bar area where we were handed menus and I ordered the most amazing Negroni, served as it was with a candied orange slice, then onto some delightful home produced charcuterie, served by the chefs themselves, before incredible ‘one-bite’ amouse-bouches of black pudding – the creamiest I’d ever eaten – with pickled gooseberry, and a perfectly on trend (ie Autumnal) Crown Prince squash and chorizo pastry, the introduction alone highlighted how wonderful this place is.

We were then whisked not into the dining room, but the kitchen, and met Conrad, one of the chefs, who talked us through the produce we’d be enjoying across the following five courses. Where it was from, why it was chosen. The array of colours, quality and beauty was a lovely touch I’d not experienced before and therefore not expected, but we were able to ask questions about the fayre on offer before a final mouthful of smoked eel in potato with fermented garlic and topped with vibrant violas.

All this before we’d even sat down at our table!

What followed was five courses of food heaven. The highlights were my favourite, beef tartare, and of course the deer, and its accompanying ragout, but also the more understated elements of the dishes such as the Doddington cheese with the carrots starter and the pine with the gingerbread ice cream pre-dessert. Here’s the sauce being poured beautifully onto the slab of Dorset Sika deer:

What made the menu all the more memorable was the accompanying wines, all excellent choices which matched perfectly, including my first of Canadian Ice Wine, and – as I am wont to do – getting talking to one of our servers about what it’s like working there and finding out he’s going out with a girl I taught – he even invited me into the cheese room to see the incredible offer on show, not just the wheels of dairy delight but also the fortified wines, which I’ll definitely go for next time!

All in all, the food was perfect, the service impeccable and the few hours there were halcyonic. I even received a birthday card as we left, signed by the team, which was a lovely touch and showed then that midlife need not yet inspire a crisis!

Thanks, to all at the restaurant and to my very thoughtful family members, it was the perfect start to a half term which brought with it pumpkin carving, the delightful nostalgia trip back to early 90s Liverpool via Willy Russell‘s Dancin’ Thru the Dark (much of which was filmed in the toilets of The Locarno / The Olympia which I documented earlier in the summer, so impressive were the wooden mirror casings in the gents’) and subsequently rediscovering the classic Grafton documentary on YouTube which reminded me I’ve lived in this great city now for a quarter of a century.

25 years since I moved to the city and first lived here, The Bullring (photo from many years previous, courtesy of David Wood on Facebook) and whilst so much has happened since, I found myself transported back to the nineties again, this time, 1999. It was a time of shopping at St John’s, adoring Nick Barmby, nights out at Baa Bar and everything else my new home has offered since: twenty years doing the job I still love, falling in love, bringing up a family, seeing the city offer memorable moments too, the most recent addition being the River of Light Festival, tiring and busy but worth the trek (with a stop off at Eric’s, replete with its old posters and the window into the Fruit Market I’ve always wanted to see) and there were many impressive installations along the way but probably the cleverest was the juxtaposition of the illuminated, inflatable chess game next to the Nelson Monument and its manacled prisoners of war, often mistaken for slaves.

Next time – Gremlins!

It’s defined as ‘the perception of apparently significant patterns or recognizable images, especially faces, in random or accidental arrangements of shapes and lines.’

The summer started on stage with drama performance which made us immensely proud, as well as a little visit to Prince Rupert’s tower in the sunshine. There followed a beautiful little film, Aftersun, with a subtle yet powerful performance by Paul Mescal as the dad of a fiercely independent daughter, played brilliantly by Frankie Corio, which really resonated, especially after a great Confirmation service by the Bishop of Liverpool, and also meant the Euros final mattered little.

Then came The Night Caller, with the brilliant Sean Pertwee who appeared in The 51st State with me nearly twenty five years ago. I remember clearly discussing the city with him at the wrap party in The Magnet, and the theme of taxi drivers returned the following week as my house keys mysteriously disappeared. I spent ages appealing to Merseyrail, Alpha Taxis, even our local (the brilliant CornerPost) to no avail – they must be out there somewhere – but again, it mattered not as we received the lovely surprise of B getting her school’s Citizenship award for Christian values.

To celebrate the end of term we watched the Dr Dolittle trilogy, and – as if by magic – I might as well have become a vet as, over the following weeks, our garden was frequented by a frog, a hedgehog in broad daylight, and divebombing gulls – a visit to the beautiful Walton Hall Park even saw us witnessing a dramatic duck rescue – and by the end of the holidays we were besotted with two guinea pigs, originally called Magneto and Wolverine but changed by deed poll to Moomin and Sniff. I actually hated the stories of Tobe Janssen as a child but fell in love with these two.

No summer holiday to speak of this year, but we did visit the ever charming Reading and a family funday at the brilliant Double Barrelled Brewery and quite enjoyed the rather bizarre Olympics Opening Ceremony and the sporting events which followed.

Much time was spent decorating. Painting, clearing, seeing Leighton Baines, reading about Bourdain and getting a real insight into his personality and ultimately his demise – rewatching the Rome episode of No Reservations really hurt – and getting the realisation he truly is one of my all time heroes. That particular episode features footage of an old Italian movie which nicely encapsulated my joy at getting some kits for E off the back of a lorry…

Talking of which – a grand day out meeting heroes before the pre season optimism hit a peak at Preston. We toured the city centre first then enjoyed the match immensely, seeing so many familiar faces from the past and singing new songs of love and hope. The love that lasts forever returned only a week later, as B experienced her first – last? – Goodison game against Roma, a team I’ve always had a soft spot for since the times of Totti and the new Giallorossi darling, Dybala.

Then came the eleventh birthday bonanza, bringing with it a sleepover, my favourite time of the year – Monday night TV quiz returns, inspiring an application to Pointless – and me crying at the end of the Barbie movie – before the season starting and normal service resuming with 3-0 defeats for all my teams on the same day and more disappointment to follow.

I cried again when one of my oldest friends told me he was getting married and we were invited to celebrate with the happy couple and my godson. The night before, I decided to write a little speech, inspired again by the poem ‘Valentine’ by Carol Anne Duffy (I first met him, and they also met, working in a kitchen) which I’d read when best man six years ago. Whilst not officially undertaking that role this time, it felt good orating on their official matrimony although I was still adjusting to life in reading glasses.

This blog started with me getting my eyes lasered as part of my MA research and I’d had an inkling for a while that my eyesight was going a bit, so the time had come to accept that midlife comes to us all.

Still, the last of the summer wine was ripe for drinking and we visited the excellent interactive exhibition by Roxy Topia and Paddy Gould at The Bluecoat, entitled Let Your Ideas Come Back As Children which is a perfect title and sums up my own credo wonderfully. Then came an idyllic trip home to see family and the rainy haven that is Morecambe seafront, then a lovely little moment came during our usual pre match routine before the Doncaster tie, when we were photographed on Goodison Road by a great Instagram account I followed.

Imagine our surprise when, after the match, I saw this image:

That’s us in the spotlight, using our religion for good, before a final foray onto the Gwladys Street, and it was brilliant to see ourselves documented by the brilliant @wanderingsofanevertonnerd which Id recommend you all follow for more beautiful photography of the people, parts and poignant memories of the final season of this big blue family home we share.

We met up at the following rollercoaster of a game, and he’s a great guy; turns out we have several mutual friends, and we’re looking at doing something creative in the future.

We got a great view of Goodison – and the shiny new beauty which will replace it – on a lovely sunny in New Brighton. Having been to Bramley Moore the week before, it was incredible to see the structure from the other side of the Mersey alongside the waterfront, as well as the ever impressive street art and murals that have really brightened up a town on its way back up.

A fitting end to the summer: seeing things in apparently random places, sunshine, change and optimism for the future as we negotiate high school and turning 45!

Warning – this blog post contains several bits of good news, including meetings with 80s film & TV stars, a musical genius and brushes with greatness on the football field.

Anyone not in the mood for unusual cheeriness on the present author’s part, look away now, because we start at Liverpool Comic Con, a biannual bonanza of toys, costumes and general geekiness which me and B just love frequenting.

This time our theme was Ghostbusters, after she became smitten with Frozen Empire and I was secretly elated as I got to resurrect a costume from a Uni party a quarter of a decade ago.

The real highlight of the day was me posing for a photo next to One Eyed Willie’s Bone Organ (really) and a guy in a white baseball cap walking past and telling me “you look perfect” in a familiar Californian drawl.

It was none other than Sean Astin, Mikey from The Goonies, a film I’d watched a thousand times in childhood, and the waiting hordes of people who’d paid hundreds for his and the other LOTR cast ( we also spotted Elijah Wood, Dominic Monaghan et al but I’ve never been into that sort of thing) must have been so envious seeing me agape at having been paid a compliment by an early hero, for free!

Even B was especially impressed as she loved him in Stranger Things, and it was only in writing this I learned he is the son of Hollywood royalty Patty Duke. He was also brilliant in 50 First Dates. I’ll be honest, we felt like minor celebrities what with the dozen or so people who came up to ask for selfies afterwards – one guy took the photo above and said we were his favourite cosplayers from the whole weekend! – and even though we saw John Cleese, Jay & Silent Bob and myriad other pop culture legends, my chance encounter with Ziggy from Grange Hill will last nearly as long in the memory.

The theme of Scouse actors and recognisable scenes continued with the excellent second series of The Responder, featuring many local areas of interest (we’d seen it being filmed nearby last year) and then a lifelong ambition of scoring at the College Road end of the MTA as Elijah played in a Summer tournament there every Saturday morning (more of which later!) which featured this iconic celebration, captured by the official photographer for prosperity.

Other notable seminal moments came with the final series of Inside No 9 – and the poignant final episode – and The Gathering – again, filmed locally and featuring friends of friends but also making the city look beautiful.

The most surrreal moments of early summer were still to come…

On a trip to Bootle Strand, never the most inspirational place at the best of times, a familiar face boarded the bus and sat a few seats in front of me and my bewildered daughter. It was none other than Michael Head, whose new album I’d been listening to all that week as it entered the top ten, whose earlier stuff as part of Shack had shaped my youth and before that The Pale Fountains for many others, who had a mutual friend and whom a colleague had been to see recently in an intimate church gig and subsequently waxed lyrical about it… yes, that Michael Head.

I probably made a bit of a show of myself but he was a perfect gentleman and obliged for the obligatory photo aboard the 53 as a document of the time I met a musical maestro on Merton Road.

An even more bizarre encounter than the ones which have gone before came at the private hospital I’ve been frequenting for investigations into an ongoing back issue and a man in the waiting room having a similar procedure to me, an ex pro golfer originally from the town I’ve called my second home for twenty years and a fascinating guy but a rather sad figure; I’d call him a kind of guardian angel like the elder characters in Its a Wonderful Life! or The Golden Vision, sent to give me a message of sorts. I know his name but will keep it hidden in case anyone knows him… suffice to say he gave sage advice and I’ll remember him fondly.

Lighter moments and a new found fascination for the kids with Jim Carrey movies, just as the Home Alone house went on sale and a similar theme ran through the second best thing I’ve watched recently…

That I binge-watched Eric over a whole weekend whilst WW was- puppets and graffiti, what’s not to love? – which evoked the late Maurice Sendak’s beautiful Where The Wild Things Are, Sesame Street , Basquiat (and even our own travails of letting the first born walk to and from school in preparation for high school) all set in early 80s New York, a period which fascinates me. It also featured a cameo by a certain Bobby Schofield who I used to teach and I was so proud to spot him I reached out to commend him on his performance.

Many were uncertain about the lead character but he struck a chord, even wearing the same watch as me, and the music in there was epic. I won’t spoilt the ending – beautifully shot and soundtracked – so here’s another classic from the six parter.

Talking of Basquiat, I took the kids back to my roots for the degree show at JMU and was thrilled to see not just the quality of work on show but a Jamie Reid retrospective. He’d come to talk to us back in 2000 and we were thrilled to be in the presence of such an important artist and activist whose legacy lives on.

Back to football, and another massive heart in throat moment when E got scouted by a big northwest club in a tournament on the Wirral. I won’t say too much so as not to jinx it, but he performed superbly only a few days after falling out of bed and cutting his head open leading to a trip to Alder Hey (and a call from social services) so played in a bandage and it must have brought him to the attention of a representative of said club and we’ll see what happens there.

The nearest I got to greatness was trailing boots for Ryan Giggs and Reebok when I was twelve, so the recognition for him at merely seven makes me so very proud.

Next up, a fantastic gig by Richard Hawley, following his excellent new album (with the standout track for me being the brilliant Prism in Jeans) preceded by a visit to the impressive Renshaw St Food Market for a spritz, Mexican fare from Baja and excellent Chinese courtesy of Mong Kok (really) and the ubercool White Hart pub where I played the fanboy again, meeting one of my favourite graphic designers and an all round good guy. Check out his website!

All this played out over the opening weekend of the Euros, when football came back to the fore – predictors had been filled in, stickers tentatively collected, new kits ordered and excitement filled the household (well, half of it!) but the music was ten times better than anything German football pitches could offer.

Theatre of a different kind, though still loosely linked to events in Germany, came the following weekend with another date at a local am drama group and a great little short play at Lucilla House. We’ve been past the place hundreds of times, whether feeding the ducks or staggering back from the local (pre children) but this was our first foray inside and the performance itself, Figments was an excellent play within a play which started and ended with the Tales of the Unexpected theme tune so I knew I was in for a treat given how much I loved that series.

The lead character looked familiar… he had more than a look of my (and Elijah’s) current favourite footballers, Kvicha Kvaratskhelia, simultaneously impressing at the tournament, so I made a beeline for him when entered the bar afterwards to commend him on his performance and we worked out we had several mutual teaching friends and I’d actually met him in said local last year! Imagine the awe on E’s face the following morning when he pulled up alongside us on his bike and quizzed him about his favourite footballer… it must have brought him good luck as he went on to win the players’ player of the year award at the subsequent MarinaFest prize giving which brought yet another tear to my eye.

Africa Oye was an enjoyable day out, some great music and fun rides and a foray down ‘Bohemian’ Lark Lane, which was replete in the sunshine; IF was a great, thought-provoking and nostalgic trip back to childhood at the cinema.

Oh, such a Pangloss I’d become!

More tears of joy were to come when B’s team won the league and she got player of the match on the final game. As she nears the end of y6 and the transition into high school, we prepare for end of school plays, confirmation services and long goodbyes, I get the feeling there’ll be a few more of those moments from us all…

We end on another positive and the brilliant Inside Out 2, perfect for any of us with teenage or pre pubescent girls – Anxiety is an excellent addition to the brain-based emotions, and it prepares you perfectly, let me tell you – and as if by magic, one of the best characters is also voiced by the brilliant Ayo Edebiri, one of the stars of The Bear, who even directed an episode, of which the third series dropped last week on Disney+ and it’s quite simply mesmerising and magnificent in equal measure.

Some critics were divided when the new episodes were made available, with comments that it has slowed down a bit and doesn’t make the progress the first two series might have in its earlier episodes but the opener is so clever in recapping what’s gone before, and very beautiful in the plating, and the second episode is particularly intense, which is what I love about the series so much, and the viewing thereof was succeeded by the ever excellent The National at Glastonbury.

Now, I do love a bit of SZA, but this set for Sad Dads was the perfect headliner act of the weekend for me, even if Coldplay’s addition of Michael J Fox was the most emotional, but I said I’d stay upbeat and optimistic regardless of the circumstances, so won’t dwell on the sadness and tears that that moment also caused.

Later that week, a good omen was delivered when Frank Cottrell Boyce was named Children’s Laureate. Richly deserved, not just for his excellent books and plays and scripts and screenplays, but also the way I’ve seen him interact with young people in myriad circumstances such as open evenings as well as in the doorway of our local chippy… they were my own kids, and he was brilliant with them as he was with me, when our paths crossed at a literacy event a few years back and he gave the most enthusiastic speech possible about a statue he’d seen in the foyer of the venue on the way in to speak.

Finally, General Election time! I have to stay apolitical and neutral because of the day job I do when not ruminating on what to share with you every couple of months… but let’s just say we end on a positive note, too.

On to the next one.