Welcome back! It’s a new year, it’s a new life… but I’ve not written for a while, so we start back at Halloween and a lovely trip to the cinema with the youngest to see the beautiful The Wild Robot.
What a wonderful film, the perfect antidote to the rest of the day trick or treating. The following week, eerie atmospheres brought fireworks…
Around the same time we started to enjoy streaming The Perfect Couple, Alma’s Not Normal and other things that must have been eminently forgettable as I can’t remember them, but normal life paused for a while as we were incredibly saddened by the sudden, tragic death of a colleague of over two decades which really hit home. In one of her last texts to me, she described me as a ‘constant friend’ and I felt very honoured to have received that accolade. She was a mentor and her death left a lasting effect on many.
There also came unsettling news stories such as natural disasters and the inevitable victory of Trump, but thankfully spirits were lifted by another trip to Comic Con Liverpool and a wonderful experience meeting a childhood hero – yes, my parents were apparently that cruel – from Gremlins, an almost Christmas story. I didn’t get chance to ask Billy Peltzer, or Zach as I can now call him after I gave him a Gizmo badge, whether Phoebe Cates was as beautiful in real life as in the film, but I’m sure the answer would have been yes. It’s always such a great day out. We saw several other stars and spent lots of money… I might even let B watch Gremlins at some point.
In the meantime, we’ll keep watching nice things on Disney such as a much more lovely tale about displaced creatures at wintertime in the clever animation An Almost Christmas Story, a story all about a misplaced owl which I’d shared on social media a few years back and obviously resonated what with our upcoming fifteen year anniversary of visiting said Rockefeller Centre tree.
Watch it next Christmas.
Talking of beauty and elegance, a quick drink in the opulent St Peter’s in Liverpool (famously the church in The Golden Vision) before a breathtaking doubleheader of a gig by Gruff Rhys and Bill Ryder Jones who is been desperate to see / hear for years and the Philharmonic was the perfect setting for the experience. Here’s a little taste of their genius:
What a gig: Bill – who I was lucky enough to meet a few years ago to discuss all things Everton – even brought on a primary school choir to enhance some of the best songs of his most recent album; it must have been well past their bedtime but who cared when it was such a special occasion?
The next day, a fortuitous day off brought with it a trip to see the equally impressive Wicked, a cinematic joy. I truly can’t wait for the second part to be released. And another came later in the month with Paddington in Peru then starting at home (sporadically, no binge watching at this time of year for us) the likes of Skeleton Crew,Squid Game, Black Doves and Missing You which all started positively.
As the delectable Kate Beringer once said, Christmas Day it came and went in a flash, so busy were our social calendars what with parties and nativity plays and Christmas Extravaganzas – all lovely experiences to attend – that we looked forward to a rest. I bought myself my two favourite shirts from my childhood to celebrate, and we really did have a lovely time together alongside a few nice lie ins which were the main thing! We even made it out for a walk on Christmas Day afternoon and the sunset was spectacular.
This year promises much and several exciting opportunities for positive change, so I’ll endeavour to keep you updated throughout 2025… whatever happens. The most widely anticipated arrived via email and was shared over a cosy Christmas drink in the local.
Happy new year to all who have taken the time to read this; writing it is a Sisyphean task but it is quite cathartic because it’s so sprezzaturan, especially recently.
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.
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!
