Liverpool - it's a grower

I've been to Liverpool many times now over the years. But in the past 6 weeks I've ended up there on three separate occasions, doing three different things, and I'm beginning to see how much of it I've missed in all the years until now.

The Liverpudlians I know are very attached to their dear city but I'd never really "got" it before. It was just another city, wasn't it? But no. Liverpool has revealed itself to me as a world unto itself - which is somehow unsurprising but also satisfying to know.

Lime Street Station has generally been my entry point and even the station has developed in my years there. I remember going down to the docks the first time I visited but the development down there has just continued - I was slightly underwhelmed by a trip to the Tate on visit-before-this-one (mainly because I was expecting to see an Alice in Wonderland exhibition that had finished before visit-before-that-one and yet had still been being advertised) but my visit to the new Museum of Liverpool this weekend was brilliant. The waterfront is a wonderful open space and the Museum building a fascinating one, but the exhibits were also, in my mind at least, first rate. I started at the top of the building and worked down and found out many fascinating facts - including the fact that the only part of the Catholic Cathedral in the city that adheres to the original design (which, if it had continued to be followed, would not have been completed until 2133) is the crypt. And that there used to be an overhead railway along the docks. And some shocking statistics around poverty and employment. But it was also a museum I could imagine bringing several generations of a family to and everyone having a good time - plenty to look at, listen to, read, absorb, ponder...brilliant.

So, that's the docks. Well, part of them. The city centre seems to have refreshed itself and although I must confess I'm not a fan of shopping for shopping's sake, it seems to be thriving and is a pleasant place to be. They've changed the recipe for Crunch in The Egg (a vegan / vegetarian cafe at the top of a building just on the outskirts of the centre itself which has been a favourite Liverpool haunt of mine for years) but these things happen. I also picked up a fascinating bit of science/history in a central charity shop before jumping on a train home.

And one of the elements which fascinates me most about Liverpool are its empty buildings. Barely minutes walk from the new shiny hotels and apartment blocks (and in some cases literally across the road from) are buildings of old, empty and in various states of disrepair. Many are the kind of building I simply fall in love with - I can't describe what it is but the buildings somehow hold so much history, so many lives and so much history - but in an understated, "just another building in the city" kind of way. Two stand out in particular.

The White Star Offices: on the corner of James Street, immediately behind the three well known buildings (including the Liver Building) right on the front, is an old brick building (thanks to the photographer, callicrates2003 - the joy of the internet!) which now has some broken windows and clearly needs a lot of love. But it's right there. It's got masses of character and it's empty. Just empty.

Coleman's Fireproof Depository, Toxteth: any building which has branding or advertisements of old always doing it for me - Coleman's is no exception. As I walked past this weekend it was advertising itself for sale ("good income (masts)") but again, completely empty. The granite surround for the old doorway to the offices, it's stone carved letters beginning to fade through erosion, speaking of very different days.

Empty buildings always fascinate me. But what they draw out to me about Liverpool is the great disparity in places of living and working which are so close together. Minutes walk, if not back to back (there's another building, now I think of it, right next to the entrance to China Town - tall and proud and completely empty), buildings are thriving or rotting side by side. I can't fathom it.

And alongside the city itself, there are trains running every day, several times an hour, which take you out to the Wirral, to open beaches and beautiful countryside, to Moreton (which I kept thinking the announcer was  saying was Morecambe and I was getting mightily confused), to Hoylake and to West Kirby. Let alone the other locations I didn't explore today.

The Liverpool I've discovered over these three weekends, culminating this weekend in it coalescing in my mind and my understanding, truly is a world of its own. And a fascinating one with many possibilities, at that.

It's not very Rock 'n Roll but...

I'd been thinking about heading out to the cinema this evening - I've been out and about today until about 5pm and then had an hour or two before an evening showing. Seemed perfect. But as the hour of departure approached, I decided I didn't really fancy it. "Not very rock 'n roll, being in on a Saturday night and ready for a quiet evening curled up at home," I thought to myself. "But..." And it was the but that did it. The but was an excuse. An excuse for being me, doing what I do and feeling what I feel. Which is CRAZY.

For starters, I'm not rock 'n roll, I'm Tigger.

And, should there need to be anything more, I am who I am and how I spend my time is entirely down to me. No-one to justify to. No-one to please. It's me, myself and I. Admittedly, that's simplified by the fact that my life really is very straightforward in the sense that I don't have dependents or immediate "family" I live with (partner / children / very close friends). But even if those factors were there, there's still just me to keep happy and healthy - while supporting others where I can.

I've noticed myself almost unconsciously justifying myself to fit a perceived "norm" mold previously. And year on year, I've broken away from being bothered about it. But this evening's rock 'n roll moment reminded me there are still expectations I put on myself. There's no-one else doing it, just me. And what a waste of energy it is! The flip side to the "Not very rock 'n roll..." thought? "Great! I've an evening to rest. To curl up and enjoy my space. To get an early night so I can enjoy the daylight tomorrow. To save watching that film for another time when I REALLY fancy it. And most importantly, the best thing this evening in will do for me is help recharge my batteries. Acetastic."

Me? I like the flipside.

Entirely unrelated to rock 'n roll, but I've been having an interesting thought-foray into taxes and energy. I am generally very ignorant about what my tax money actually goes on. And I'm getting to a point of being very dissatisfied with that. I'm also wary of scratching too deep and finding much deeper frustrations with how the money is being spent (or, potentially, wasted). But that's another story. The energy issue is also coming to the fore, somewhat "by accident", and has brought me back to a query I've had for many moons.

Why is so little said about energy efficiency?

 Yesterday I was watching a film (Into Eternity) about Onkalo, a nuclear waste storage facility in Finland which is being designed as a long-term (100,000 year) storage facility for existing Finnish nuclear waste. Phenomenal concept and one I'm still reeling from not having heard of before. It's a serious undertaking but one which is the first (and as far as I know only) instance of its kind, all other nuclear waste being kept in very much short-term storage. Anyway, if you're interested, watch the film. Fascinating stuff.

At the end of the screening there were also a couple of short films about campaigning against the new generation of nuclear power in the UK. What fascinated me most about the shorts was a stand alone comment to the effect of:

"If every home in Britain was properly insulated, we wouldn't even need the new reactor."

Crikey.

There's a thought.

Where this nugget came from, what it's based on and what the caveats are around it (I'd love to know the financial comparisons, let alone the job creation potential) I have no idea (although if anyone does, I'd love to hear them!) but it was a real stop-and-think moment. This evening I watched a short TED video (www.ted.com if you fancy some thought provoking browsing) of a pro/anti nuclear debate. And not a sentence was given over to efficiency.

It's still mulling but I'm pondering. What happens if instead of funding a new power station (of whatever variety) the money is spent on energy efficiency measures for residential homes as well as commercial businesses throughout the country. Local job creation? Lower energy demand? Less fuel poverty? Lower household bills? Negative impacts? And are there reasons why money can't be spent like that? Again, I remember a crazy stat that rather than bailing out failing banks everyone in the UK could have been given a tenner - not necessarily practical, but a fascinating thought when it comes to the quantities of money involved.

But for now, I'm mulling. Wondering and pondering and contemplating my next step. It's an interesting spot to be in.

Philosophy and Tiggers are like oil and water. Still

Before I knew much about philosophy, I thought I'd really get along with it.

When I took a Philosophy of Science module (along with History thereof) at Uni I discovered I really struggle with philosophy.

And despite my continued best efforts, on finishing Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder I can say, wholeheartedly, I just don't mix well with philosophy.

In principle we have lots in common, philosophy and I. But when I get into it, with the different philosophers and thought approaches (and yes, they come fairly thick and fast in Sophie's World) I feel like I'd have to battle really quite hard to piece it all together and actually, I'd rather be doing something else.

And so, philosophy, for now I'm going to leave you to the Philosophers. I don't doubt your importance in the web of life - I'm just happy to leave you to it.

Aberdeen

 I always find it rather exciting when I find new and unexpected ways to break bags. I've broken many in my time. In all sorts of ways. But generally as a result of overfilling them. Today was no exception. Perhaps if I hadn't been taking photos. Perhaps if I'd secured it on with the bottom bit. Perhaps perhaps perhaps. But the reality is that my heavily laden pannier detached itself from my bike in a rather permanent way when one of the plastic clips that attach it to the rack snapped off. Which is a shame. I now get to investigate the joys of replacement pannier clips but until then the single spare bungee I had with me came into play and I got to the train. Yippee!

It's been an altogether intriguing trip. The last time I was in Aberdeen was over 2 years ago when I was doing a “tenant change over” and I found my last Scottish tenant. As much as that particular tenancy ended rather badly, it was the push I needed to realise that my time would be much better spent focusing my energies in one place (or at least one region!) rather than spreading them across several countries, let alone counties. That decision was back in July but the machinations have meant it's taken until now to get things lined up to put my little flat on the market. And, as is usually the way, on arrival back into Aberdeen I fell in love with the place all over again – and the same with my flat. It's a top floor studio with a north facing view from the kitchen across Aberdeen docks (how had I forgotten Aberdeen's a major port? How had I forgotten the docks? Who knows, but I had. Arriving back into the station it was all brought back in an instant, tho'!) and a sitting / bedroom with a huge south facing window that gets flooded with sunlight. And yes, I do mean sun, as in the sun shining, as in the sun shining in Aberdeen. In fact, this weekend has seen LOTS of sunshine and glorious it has been.

I'd found myself various free things to do over the weekend (vinyasa (sp?) yoga on Friday, introduction to meditation on Saturday, free gym (read sauna & steam & spa pool) access and a concert of Handel's Alexander's Feast in the cathedral on Sunday) and I'm fairly certain I did more exploring of Aberdeen in this 4 days than I did while I was here. Interesting reflection. In amongst that I discovered the joys of buying expensive paint (covers small cracks and holes – no filler required! Plus massively reduces the time spent painting), the wonder that is the Aberdeen Winter Gardens (in Duthie Park, the remains of a Victoria glass house built in 1899, severely gale damaged in 1969 and now restored to its current incarnation which includes a nationally recognised cactus collection, among other things. Oooh, one of which are the cats that used to adorn the south side of Union Bridge before it got filled with shops – and when I saw the north side ones still in situ I felt like I'd completed the set. Genius) and I rediscovered the wonderful air mattress that saw me through most of my actual living-stay in Aberdeen. And which I then got all sentimental over and have hence packed in my bags (yes, it may be the reason the pannier broke. But I suspect it was simply one aspect – that pannier's given me good service, and was second hand to me!). It's been an awesome weekend. I've had a great time and have thoroughly enjoyed myself, even the slightly weird feeling I had on Saturday night after a visit to the cinema. Three trips to B&Q, several to various food places, some wandering and lots of paint. Awesome weekend.

But the most intriguing factor was my response as I was leaving the flat. I've never lived in that flat. This trip is probably the longest I've ever stayed in it. But I eternally feel like this could so easily have been a home for me. If the time had been right. Which it wasn't. It's such a simple little flat. It's so high and spacious for just one person. It's got character. It's got a great big garden which, even with a big ol' chunk of drying lawn, has the same space again which could be a great little garden / allotment type place. And which no-one has paid any attention to since I've been there (I have fond memories of harvesting some rhubarb from an old root down there one visit – and very nice it was too). It's a very short cycle to wonderfully remote-feeling bits of coast. It's walking distance to the train station. It's minutes from the wonderful River Dee. It's just, well, wonderful. But my life has taken me elsewhere.

And having taken me elsewhere it really does seem like the right time to say farewell to dear little flat and hope that someone else falls in love with it and manages to live there. Or someone simply purchases it and has many tenants who fall in love with it. And I haven't even mentioned the joy of the coal cellar! (except now I have – there you go) But despite all that I found myself wanting to take photos of it as I was leaving (part of the reason the pannier broke). Wanting to feel like I wasn't losing it – that I was recording it's part in my life. I felt very strongly attached to it – and wanting to say goodbye properly. I ended up saying goodbye with a liberal shaking of teatree oil in each room (I decided teatree - the only oil I had with me - was a better smell than paint). And now I'm on my way south it feels OK to have said goodbye. It feels like it's time. But it also feels like a real shift in a way which I hadn't really expected. And to have had the pannier crisis (which, I have to say, I feel I dealt with rather well. Pause. Take breath. Check time to train departing. Assess options and spend a bit of time attaching said pannier on to the rack securely with a bungee. Get to train with 10 minutes to spare. Feel good) as I was leaving almost felt like Aberdeen didn't quite want to say goodbye either. Which was nice.

What I'm most looking forward to is the next occasion I somehow end up in Aberdeen – and being able to enjoy the trip, having various moments of memories intermingled with new experiences.

Aberdeen – I salute you. To all that's gone before and all that's to come, I raise my glass and gaze at the beautiful, beautiful full moon I'm touched to have with me on my journey back to the land of my birth.

The House That Just Keeps Giving

Having been plotting a blog post all day yesterday (and never quite getting to it) this morning I woke up and decided that the only answer to everything (at that particular moment) was to move my sewing gear from the rather dark, although very big, room downstairs up to my attic room. On several occasions I've thought about bringing sewing up here, if only because there's LOADS of light courtesy of the 2 veluxes. But this morning it all became clear that although this is my bedroom, it could also do a very good job of being a sewing room.

Some time later I found myself downstairs getting some breakfast and starting the move upstairs of the first critical items for trying out my sewing-room-in-the-attic theory (sewing machine, sewing box, dress makers dummy). I also grabbed a couple of items I thought I might work on today and pulled down what I thought was a full-length dress I'd been thinking of turning into a skirt. Ha! Nope, this was a cocktail dress. That fits perfectly. And has now become my outfit for an imminent wedding. This house has always provided a lot, the phrase "came with the house" being commonly used, but when my house provides waiting places for things which I know I brought in so they can be there at the perfect moment, well, it's just ace. Outfit problem: solved. Fabric store: not quite as overflowing as it was before. Tigger: happy.

Yesterday was an awesome day. I did very little but did manage to spend a large chunk of time wandering around in the sunshine and then down on the beach enjoying the sun and going for a bit of a soak in the sea (I can't call it swimming - I really was just floating around rather than anything as active as swiming!) I still love my usual spot but the tides are incredibly high at the moment which means there isn't any sand which doesn't get soaked twice a day. It's also a rubbish place to go for a swim from as the water stays very shallow. So I thought I'd try the bit of beach just to the south of the car park at the Battery - and it was perfect! I was surprised by how high the tide ended up coming before beginning to recede but it did mean that, navigating submerged rocks aside, there was a decent amount of water to float around in very close to where I'd left my stuff. Brilliant.

There was a group next to me (I think it comprised three generations of one family plus a couple of friends), with a girl of about 10 who proclaimed "This is the best day ever!" - and I had to agree with her. They were also rather surprised by the height the tide rose to and I ended up rescuing a couple of plastic sand-toys which had started to float off into the bay. I also managed to stumble on aforementioned submerged rocks while giving them back to them - but even that was great in a weird way. I've got the first graze on my knee that I've had for about 20 years! (it's in the classic "fall over and graze your knee" position of being a small-by which I mean under 10- person) Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

I'm also BEGINNING to feel more human - along with sleeping and pottering, yesterday involved 2 baths and a soak in the sea and I'm now feeling up to doing more useful things (like sewing and trogging things up the stairs). Even the weather is co-ordinating itself with my mood - it's rainy today but still very mild meaning lurking on the beach isn't really an option but enjoying the brightness of my attic room is. Fantastico. And with that - to the sewing machine!

On the mend. Hopefully.

I'm really lucky in that, more often than not, I'm in good health. Yes, I suffer from the odd bit of hayfever and have had a couple of interesting health experiences in the past, but normally not much gets me down.

This week was the exception.

Wednesday I first noticed something was awry and I suspected a cold. Went to the steam room, felt a lot better, pressed ahead with Thursday. Thursday was OK and although a gamble, I proceeded with an evening out - by the end of which said cold had made a definite come back. Friday was a joke (among other things I managed to call my boss not only by a name that wasn't his, but by a name that wasn't even the right gender. In an interview) and I crawled home about 4pm. No steam on Friday as it was boys-only night. Boo. Crawled into bed feeling very sorry for myself and hoping rest would do the trick.

Ha. As if. Woke up on Saturday feeling only marginally better - and definitely not of the magnitude I was expecting after a big ol' chunk of sleep. Dragged myself out of bed thinking from 10.30 it was boys only again. It wasn't. But I made it there, felt a bit better, then went on a "things that might make me better" spending spree before collapsing back home. Some "flu plus" tablets made the day tolerable but by 3pm it was clear that moving further than my little flat really wasn't going to happen - all remaining plans for the weekend got cancelled (which was a real shame but in reality the only option...other than going out, being really ill and potentially making others ill which, in my mind, isn't an option) and the day was spent on the sofa.

And on a brief aside, I'm now convinced this sofa was the best investment I've made, pound for pound. I love it. It makes my life better. It makes being ill better. It has scatter cushions and is deeper than your average sofa. It works in my living room and gives me a cosy corner. Ace.

So this morning. Woke up not as filled full of bung as I had been yesterday - but still feeling pretty wiped out. Part of me wants to get up and get on - part of me is still really tired and, mainly, worried about doing too much and ending up ill and pathetic again. Or am I being over-protective of myself? Oh, who knows.

More importantly, tho', why this whingey "I've been ill" epic? Because it's made me value my health and also recognise what I don't have. While out buying provisions yesterday (and moving around at snail's pace - which is always a good sign of an ill Tigger) the chap in front of me was purchasing similar bits and pieces for his "wife - she's got a bad case of Man Flu. Never seen her like this before". And yet there I was, trawling around the the bits myself. Cooking up potions on my return home (a further reinforcement of my state yesterday was, at the end of the day, realising I'd consumed a bulb of garlic without particularly noticing. This morning, doing some washing up, I certainly noticed the garlic. Crikey - definitely no vampires in this house). Hobbling off to bed. Urg.

The "good old days" of community and several generations of family living in one home in no way were perfect all the time - and I know if I was really really ill to the point of being unable to look after myself there are people I could call on or get myself to. But for that middle ground, that "I'd like someone to look after me but I'll survive if they don't" time, for then I just get my own company.

And actually, that's OK. It's a bit mis at times, but only fleetingly - and let's face it, yesterday I was more interested in distraction (hurrah for the internet and DVDs) than the ideal family unit. In fact, the pro was that although I was sadly unable to get to a friend's anniversary celebration I wasn't putting anyone else out. At least when I was cooking I didn't have to worry about providing for anyone else.

So really, it's just another reflection on my life - how I live it, and how it differs, or is the same, as the rest of the world.

Oh, and the fact that something really wasn't right if a cold wiped me out like this! And there was me thinking I wasn't all that tired... go self-awareness, Tigs.

Life's better by bike...

 ...and by the sea, of course. I'm not cycling much at the moment. Cycling has always been a means to an end (or more specifically, a destination) and just now my destinations are either close enough for walking or too far to be enjoyable or desireable by bike, or involving lots of hills. Often a combination of the aforementioned. So by strange providence (the foibles of Sunday morning trains) it was that I found myself leaving dear little Hafilax abode with Billy in tow and freewheeling down the hill to the station. Mhaaaaaarvellous.

But what I hadn't quite anticipated was how brilliant it would be to be with bicycle when I got off the train this evening into the gloaming of a threatening cloudy sky in Morecambe. It's trying to rain – I'm sitting on the prom ignoring it (and hoping my laptop does too). It's certainly grey and cloudy. But it also shows promise of the sun that's behind. And let's face it, when it's still positively light (no need for bike lights in the slightest) at nine in the evening, anything goes.

Yet again I was floored by the seascape here. The tide is about half way out, the pools of water (seawater? Rain? Both?) still lingering on the flats. My little patch of sand distinctly orange against the dark grey of the rocks, the steel blue of the sea and the lush green of the reeds and other plants which have found shelter form the tides in the “cove” that's just by my house. Above, the many greys of the clouds – from almost white to blue, dark greys, light greys and all greys in between. The muted colours of the shores of Cumbria on the other side. The red of the prom between me and the beach.

I have never understood why this seems to be such a hidden treasure in plain sight. This being the views from Morecambe out across the bay. As I sit here on a mild July evening I can see one other soul. I've had a dog walker pass and a couple out for a walk who were behind the seawall!) but overall the prom is deserted. The cars continue to go to and fro on the road behind me but this view seems forgotten by all.

It always takes my attention. Draws me in. Shows me a new view – the constantly changing sea and sky and ambience. But here I am getting distracted from bicycles...

So yes, bicycles. I think I need more bicycling in my life. Not huge amounts, but just a bit more. Perhaps I need to overcome my anti-hill stance (might help while living in a valley. Shame I can't just up sticks to Morecambe more permanently at the moment – seaside is flat!) or perhaps I just need to get clever about routes. Whichever way I look at it, I really do enjoy the feeling of the freedom of a bicycle.

But moreover I enjoy, nay adore the freedom and liberation I get from staring at Morecambe Bay. Absolutely mesmerising. Even more so when I find myself tired and my brain running on empty. The best way to enjoy something which fundamentally words cannot describe.

Today's most interesting revelation about the bay, however, is about my enjoyment of it. Somehow I can sit here and drink it in for so much longer when my company is but my own. I love sharing this view with friends but somehow feel there then has to be something to Do. Be it a coffee or a cocktail, I somehow find myself pulled away from the simplicity of sitting gazing at the sea. Why that would be escapes me somehow. Possibly my own insecurities about “entertaining” friends when they come to visit. Perhaps they simply won't enjoy gazing at the sea. A misplaced view of what other people enjoy? Or something else entirely. I don't know. But an interesting one to mull on.