Author: bigdunc09

Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans, said a great man once, and the past few weeks have proven that theory tenfold.

Birthdays make for a busy September and this one was no exception, with days out at the Ribble Valley Train Museum (a step back in time) and visiting both Cathedrals; welcome dips into the cultural and spiritual wells. New routines were adapted to, generally quite positively, and new normality felt, well, normal but with a distant threat never too far away.

New regimes, too… by and large. Everton have remained a bundle of contradictions, literally from the sublime to the ridiculous, and as great as it was to watch a couple of games uninterrupted in an actual pub, I couldn’t wait to make my return to a ‘live’ match for the first time in 23 months and still enjoyed it immensely despite the disappointment of the surreal score line and toxic atmosphere at the end which took me back to 1994. I love that we’ve recently been announced as one of the three most ‘vulgar’ fan bases who swear the most.

UTFT indeed.

Thankfully, such sporting underachievement was tempered by two brilliant boxing bouts especially the Tyson Fury v Deontay Wilder fight I watched quietly under the bed covers at 5 in the morning. I felt a bit responsible for his victory to be honest, having wished the Gypsy King well for the fight when we met him in the summer. Something of a benevolent voyeur, I was, which funnily enough was the name given to an article on a photographer I was kindly sent an article about recently and was blown away by some of Elliott Erwitt’s work, which were instantly familiar but felt like a new discovery. What was amazing is that I even happened upon a picture of him picking his nose next to a statue in Rome which I also stood next to, not picking my nose, in 2004.

Talking of looking at things differently, the work on the house neared its conclusion and new series were enjoyed not quite in comfort yet but in much more inviting surroundings (literally) as weekends were spent painting and evenings admiring the outcomes. Hilarious Brassic, the surreal and gripping Squid Game which took the world by storm (and I really loved, especially the impressive set pieces, but won’t spoil for anyone yet to join the red light green light party) upcoming returns of Temple and my favourite Gomorrah, make the cosier, darker nights all the more enticing.

Not entirely unexpectedly, the real highlights of this past couple of months came over half term. A chance to rest, but also do things we’d been looking forward to for ages. A visit to see the new Merseyrail 777 Trains, which I’d enquired about for junior’s birthday, and finally a chance to get onboard (and sit in the drivers seat, learning all about the controls and cameras) which was an unforgettable experience for all involved.

Talking of which, my new favourite restaurant and a delayed birthday celebration courtesy of my wonderful wife and the nearly as equally talented Ellis Barrie at Lerpwl. She had opted for the Capricious menu and I was delighted to see that, as the name would suggest, the menu changes almost daily. We had had an aperitif in the stylish One O’clock Gun next door – an Albert Dock gin for me, in fact – so were more than ready for the culinary journey to Wales and back we were about to embark on and then were even more excited to be offered a kitchen table to see how the magic was happening and engage in conversation with the great man himself, who I’d watched in countless episodes of GBM and even the reboot of a childhood staple, Ready Steady Cook.

This was how I felt walking in and seeing the great man at the pass:

The oysters were incredible, the treacle sourdough too. Other standouts were the mackerel, with its deep green accompaniments, the curried crab accompanying the hake, and the large glass of Plexus as recommended by the chef himself. The real favourite was my first ever taste of the wild mallard, a more ‘gamey’ duck, served and explained by Barrie himself. This was a really nice extra touch, that the chefs largely deliver the dishes themselves, or the maitre d’ or the barman, giving the place a fluidity and informality I cant remember noticing as much anywhere else.

As it was a special occasion, I also opted for the cheese course – again, like nothing I’d ever eaten before. The mix of truffle, Welsh blue cheese and a crispy frangipane tart sounds crazy and has to be truly tasted to be believed. The final course, a chocolate and banana extravaganza, was the perfect way to end a luxurious, somewhat decadent two and a half hours of being spoilt.

We will definitely be back, hopefully for our tenth wedding anniversary next year, when I will have fixed my collar…

To walk off the heavenly fare, we visited the new show at Tate Liverpool featuring the eclectic work of Lucy Mackenzie, some very ‘me’ works which also introduced me to the term ‘Quodlibet’. What with the trompe l’oeil notice boards, the collaged posters, the gymnastics performances, it reminded me I used to be an artist… talking of which, there’s exciting Mann Island-based news coming next time!

Honourable mention too, to to the groundfloor-based interesting installation by Emily Speed: Flatland, inspired by the 1884 novella which reduced women to thin, straight lines. Thankfully, this one hasn’t!

I vowed at the start of the year that these blogs would be based on Neil Sedaka’s ‘Calendar Girl’ and recently re-watched this amazing performance; this is perhaps the most serendipitous of the links therein.

(September) I light the candles at your sweet sixteen

(October) Romeo and Juliet on Halloween

(November) I’ll give thanks that you belong to me

As well as mine and my son’s (note the acrostic) birthdays, my godson, one of my proudest creations, recently turned sixteen. Halloween came and went; Bonfire Night too, and I felt particularly grateful and appreciative after a (somewhat oxymoronic) busy and restful week off.

Then, before we knew what had hit us, John Lewis released yet another advert; a postmodern ET, one of my favourite films, and the countdown to Christmas was on.

This is a story of boy meets heavyweight champion of the world… but more of that later.

August was largely spent up ladders or on haunches, sander or paintbrush in hand, slowly transforming the house.

This, of course, given the need for days out to entertain and enjoy, was balanced with several excursions to local attractions and places of interest.

The first of these was Kirkdale, to see in person the new trains, due on the Merseyrail network any day now. It felt like a covert operation: we had to sneak a picture through a gap in a railings.

E was very excited to see the futuristic 777s on the tracks; me, more so the beautiful blue of GP for the first time in ages.

Trains were a common theme of the holiday, as model railways suddenly became a thing. I’m quite liking visiting the shows, what with some weird old characters enthusing over twin gauge something or others and very expensive special editions. The notion of creating these perfect little worlds is quite enticing, particularly as I never bothered with anything like this when I was young. We even saw Pete Waterman and his record breaking train set (and some wonderful artwork by an old friend, Nicky Thompson) during a wonderful day in Chester and then lunch at the Southport terminus in between a long-awaited return to a play centre and a Captain Pugwash artwork exhibition.

🙏 @parisfury1 @AlderHeyCharity pic.twitter.com/LAN8o61KkG

— TYSON FURY (@Tyson_Fury) August 16, 2021

Then came the moment you’re all waiting to hear about: meeting Tyson Fury.

Almost five years ago, a serious situation led to a stay in Alder Hey. E’s annual check up was due, and I knew the boxer was at the hospital following the recent arrival of his baby girl. As soon as we walked into the atrium I saw him, stood talking to a security guard with his entourage surrounding the family. I’ve been there as a worried dad and the last thing you’d want is weirdos coming up to talk to you all the time in that situation, but he was happily sporting his Gypsy King regalia so wasn’t exactly incognito and there was no way I could pass up the opportunity so we respectfully approached and had a quick chat. No selfies, just warm wishes and discussion of Lancaster, future bouts and the baby’s health. He was amazing with Elijah and I’ve since started reading his autobiography.

We will never forget the day we met the champ.

The Lancastrian theme continues with a grand day out in Manchester: lunch under the pink neon sign at Liam’s very cool new place, The Smithfield Social, for amazing small plates and a new love for soul bowls – with honourable mentions also going to Afflecks & Brown, Trof and a jewel of a place, Sicilian NQ for cocktails – then, talking of the 17th, a wonderful trip to Blackpool for B’s birthday at the Sealife Centre and Notarianni’s Ices, which is basically the most me place ever, what with the homemade vanilla ice cream, the Art Deco decor, the Trickett affiliation, the Maradona stickers on the tills and the Passalaqua cups.

The summer showed us that B is growing up fast; tantrums and make up have replaced sweetness and princesses, that’s for sure. Thankfully, we were also lucky enough to spend time with family, and were saddened to say goodbye the extended family of Kids Planet Crosby nursery which was an emotional parting given the journey we went on and the growth and development shown there.

It wasn’t all practical, though: there was some creativity! The amazing street art in New Brighton, which has really brightened up the place, and the luscious, lustrous Lucian Freud exhibition at Tate Liverpool were real standouts. The former was particularly impressive, especially given it was in the seaside town that they tried to shut down (and only last week, failed) but the latter was full of forgotten gems and reminded me of lessons spent closely studying some of the painters portraits.

Meanwhile, other days spent decorating led to evening viewing… honourable mentions go to the excellent Cruel Summer (took me back to the mid 90s), Mare of Easttown, If… (took me back to school), A Kind of Loving, Tracy Beaker, the mysterious 9 Perfect Strangers and the pick of the bunch: This is Us, a story of coincidences, time travel, narrative twists, parenting, education choices… basically, my life story, which really got me thinking. About a lot of stuff. We’re watching an episode a night, it’s that good, and it evokes thoughts of Blood Brothers as well as my own past eight years (and possible future)… yes, it’s really that good.

Meanwhile, Summer is fading.

We refreshed the front of the house. Finally got the broadband sorted, and attended our first White party, and a great time was had by all. We enjoyed another amazing meal at Six by Nico, what with excellent service, amazing dishes and accompanying wines, and an overall beautiful and clever concept which never ceases to amaze me. This time, the courses were all on the theme of the Amalfi Coast, where we spent our honeymoon, and just for a while we were back there… the Vongolle, the lemon dessert, but the second dish, the burrata, was for me the stand out because of the textures and the colours and basically every single mouthful…but, as the song goes, nothing ever lasts forever and before we knew it, we were coming back to (yet another) new normal and back to school for all.

Wake me up when September ends.

One of the most striking images of the first lockdown, which seems like a lifetime ago now, was the footage of Italians singing on their balconies. At that time, March 2020, that couldn’t happen here, I thought – the self isolating, the singing, and also the eerily silent streets.

I just couldn’t comprehend the idea that life could possibly stop.

Fast forward eighteen months and ‘Freedom Day’ arrived, but nothing had really changed, with the virus still prevalent, masks still needed to be worn, but I realised that one of the quiet changes which have taken place during that time was my love for all things Italian had actually grown over the last year and a half, in spite of my enforced absence from the place.

The Euro 2020 tournament ameliorated my affection for international football, and I embraced the podcasts, the beautiful kits, but most of all, one in particular. The country, as well as the bench and football team, because of the way they sang their anthems – akin to those quarantining last year – plus the style they played with (and dressed in) but also the footage of celebrations in Rome, Naples, Sicily and the joyous relief – in stark contrast not just to our own hooligans storming Wembley, but also those tuneful balconies back in March 2020.

ITALIA…. The food, the art, the drink, the lifestyle, the hand gestures, the coffee – I’m in love with it all – and most importantly, perhaps, the notion. Ma il cielo è sempre più blu is one of the most emotive songs they had sung, meaning the sky is getting bluer, and it is a joyous testament to the fact that for all our many differences, we are all in the same boat – now more than ever – and that life must go on.

It was disappointing that football didn’t actually come home, although the behaviour of fans at the stadium and online kind of justified that. Of course, I take some responsibility for the Azzurri victory, having worn my Trickett ‘lucky socks’ every time Italy played. They have cornicelli on, which are dotted around the house to ward off evil spirits. I’ve always loved Lorenzo Insigne, too, the diminutive Neapolitan who even has a style of shooting named after him, so asked my cousin in Florence to look for an Insigne shirt after one of his impressive performances. Many would see this as disrespectful and disloyal… I just think I identified more with ‘them’ than ‘us’, although admit I was equally proud that my kids got swept up in the three lions spirit, singing songs from my salad days and making St George’s flags and biscuits at a Nursery party.

I really hope they get to enjoy a national victory in the next few years, so we can experience it together.

I doubt it’s going to happen any time soon on the domestic scene, although I still had immense pride when E’s Nannie took these photos of him at Goodison – regardless of the alleged misdemeanours of one of our parish, which we won’t speculate on here – and as football becomes an integral part of his life, I only want to concentrate on the positive associations and none of the tribalism nonsense so many peers encourage.

Anyway, the end of another academic year (one unlike any other) gave the opportunity to reflect on the year past, and recognise that the sky is indeed getting bluer. Glorious sunshine and celebrations, the lovely Luca from Disney Pixar, culinary experiments the new found freedom offered… and then came Wales.

A year’s delay led to heightened anticipation and a wonderful week was enjoyed by all, whether on the beautiful sandy beaches of the Lynn Peninsula, the colourful Italianate village of Portmeirion or a nostalgia-filled (and wet) Welsh Mountain Zoo. Or even just in the hot tub spending precious time with family. I won’t go on too much, because I’m conscious many won’t have been able to get away this year and others will have lost family members, but I will say I felt very lucky that week.

One standout memory is the meal we had at the Dining Room, Abersoch. I’d originally read about the place at the start of last year, pre-pandemic, when I got my monthly Observer for the Food magazine which normally takes me another month to read. Knowing we had a week booked (initially for last July) somewhere nearby, I immediately took note of this place because of how good it sounded but also because of who was recommending it:

What an intimate place, like a firecracker all aglow, perfect for the double date we were to enjoy and an amazing evening’s dining. Obviously, meals out have been few and far between for everyone for a while, but it wouldn’t be hyperbolic to suggest this would be one of the best of living memory, and certainly the best value. We enjoyed the aperitifs immensely, then shared the torched mackerel and the pork cheek (swapping plates half way through) then doing the same with the mains: the cod, then the feather blade, a little nod to an Elite bistros classic. The wine and port were fantastic, too. My dessert was the real revelation, however… Caerphilly cheese and Bara brith from the deli next door (I went and bought a whole loaf to take home, as well as a hunk of the cheese but have been unable to source locally so any Welsh readers, feel free to send me some!)

Anyone venturing over to that part of the world, I’d suggest trying to get to this place ASAP. And, even if you’re not, follow the place on Twitter for some hilarious anecdotes about weird customers. Michael Owen even walked past again whilst we were eating, laughing and smiling on the outside but clearly seething on the inside, presumably envious of us eating so well through the window.

Next time – August, and ‘when you’re on the beach you steal the show’!