"There are still a few tinned-up buildings on the street, but the CLT homes now stand out with smartly painted bay windows in chalky shades of blue, green and grey, providing homes for those most in need at affordable rents that will be tied to local wages for ever. Half of the houses were for sale and half for rent, priced at £99,000 to buy or £480 per month to rent – almost half the amount being charged by private landlords in the Welsh Streets nearby."There's more about the gardensThere are more photos and information at creator Assembly's own website.
Showing posts with label liverpool life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label liverpool life. Show all posts
Architects Assembled.
Liverpool Life 'Five years to do 10 chuffing houses!' – meet the guerrilla gardeners of Granby:
"Arriva bus's Click service"
Life For the past couple of weeks my foot's been aching which curtailed somewhat my important walks to work and back with all of their exercise potential. The other morning I realised why this was the case as I once again bashed the back of my heal on the underneath of my wooden bed frame as I stumbled out from under my duvet. The other evening after walking around work all day, my right foot was hurting so much I had a pronounced limp. I was lolloping.
Which seemed like the perfect opportunity to try out Arriva bus's Click service which launched at the end of August and is currently piloting in the South Liverpool area. In their words "a flexible minibus service that takes multiple passengers all heading in the same direction", it's essentially a shared Uber or Lyft that starts and stops along adhoc routes governed by the onboard satnav. You can watch the promotional video here and see the areas it covers.
As you can see, the service was originally launched in Sittingborne and has apparently had an impressive embrace according to Coach & Bus Week: "During the pilot in Kent, more than 50% of customers surveyed switched from using private cars to ArrivaClick, with 61% of users using the service a few times a week or more. 43% adopted the service for their daily commute." I can see why. So far it's been marvelous.
Just as I assume Uber works, the user plonks the pick-up and destination spots into a map on the app and either a pre-brooked slot or requests a pick-up there and then. The app then works out the details of the route, tells you where you'll be picked up and tells you when the bus will arrive along with the price. On most occasions so far this has been a ten minute wait, which is just enough time to pop into a supermarket and pick up a newspaper and whatever ever else.
The buses as you can see from the pictures are extreme comfortable, probably excessively so considering the length of the journey most people will be taking. There are tables with cup holders (I know!) (right!), charging ports and an on-board wifi. The blue lighting reminds me of Robert Pattinson's limousine in Cosmopolis which is expressively moody in the evening since the clocks changed and its dark outside.
It's much nicer experience than a standard bus, especially since out of the five trips I've taken so far, I've been the only passenger on four of them. Which isn't not entirely a concern. If this is just a pilot, Arriva are unlikely to continue if the audience doesn't increase. But I have seen Click cars during the day with a few passengers so it might just be the time of day I've been travelling, at the tired end of rush hour.
It's cheaper than a taxi. Trips home have been costing £2.70 which is more expensive than a standard bus (£2.30 flat fair) but compares favourably to a £5 taxi, especially now that the local fares are increasing. The price is calculated based on time of day and remoteness of destination. If I wanted to visit Speke from home it's £5.60 which is more expensive than the usual bus but will presumably be faster depending on the number of stops in between.
The only real problem is that the journey is at the mercy of an algorithm and I'm still trying to find the best pick-up and drop-off slots. The first time I attempted to program a trip, the app offered a pick up point which was within a few streets of home which I had to get to within minutes and was essentially the whole journey. Rebooking from a slightly different landmark, the nearby Subway (sandwich shop) rather than the awkward location of my work seemed to straighten things out.
Dropping off has been a bit random. The app mapping can't quite wrap its digits around the location of our tower block so the bus has sometimes veered off course. Fortunately all the drivers I've encountered so far have been extremely friendly and helpful and been happy to veer off whatever the satnav is telling them to simply drop me outside the main gate to the property. This doesn't seem to be an uncommon problem; one of the drivers did refer to teething problems.
But suffice to say, I really like this service for all of the reasons I've already mentioned. Now that my foot's better, I'm most likely to be using it on a Sunday so that I can be home in time for Doctor Who or rather a roast dinner and then Doctor Who. My guess is the more people use the service, the more reliable it'll become. I could imagine this replacing other transport as a safer, more viable way to travel. Although it stops at 8pm each evening so it won't replace the night bus just yet.
Which seemed like the perfect opportunity to try out Arriva bus's Click service which launched at the end of August and is currently piloting in the South Liverpool area. In their words "a flexible minibus service that takes multiple passengers all heading in the same direction", it's essentially a shared Uber or Lyft that starts and stops along adhoc routes governed by the onboard satnav. You can watch the promotional video here and see the areas it covers.
As you can see, the service was originally launched in Sittingborne and has apparently had an impressive embrace according to Coach & Bus Week: "During the pilot in Kent, more than 50% of customers surveyed switched from using private cars to ArrivaClick, with 61% of users using the service a few times a week or more. 43% adopted the service for their daily commute." I can see why. So far it's been marvelous.
Just as I assume Uber works, the user plonks the pick-up and destination spots into a map on the app and either a pre-brooked slot or requests a pick-up there and then. The app then works out the details of the route, tells you where you'll be picked up and tells you when the bus will arrive along with the price. On most occasions so far this has been a ten minute wait, which is just enough time to pop into a supermarket and pick up a newspaper and whatever ever else.
The buses as you can see from the pictures are extreme comfortable, probably excessively so considering the length of the journey most people will be taking. There are tables with cup holders (I know!) (right!), charging ports and an on-board wifi. The blue lighting reminds me of Robert Pattinson's limousine in Cosmopolis which is expressively moody in the evening since the clocks changed and its dark outside.
It's much nicer experience than a standard bus, especially since out of the five trips I've taken so far, I've been the only passenger on four of them. Which isn't not entirely a concern. If this is just a pilot, Arriva are unlikely to continue if the audience doesn't increase. But I have seen Click cars during the day with a few passengers so it might just be the time of day I've been travelling, at the tired end of rush hour.
It's cheaper than a taxi. Trips home have been costing £2.70 which is more expensive than a standard bus (£2.30 flat fair) but compares favourably to a £5 taxi, especially now that the local fares are increasing. The price is calculated based on time of day and remoteness of destination. If I wanted to visit Speke from home it's £5.60 which is more expensive than the usual bus but will presumably be faster depending on the number of stops in between.
The only real problem is that the journey is at the mercy of an algorithm and I'm still trying to find the best pick-up and drop-off slots. The first time I attempted to program a trip, the app offered a pick up point which was within a few streets of home which I had to get to within minutes and was essentially the whole journey. Rebooking from a slightly different landmark, the nearby Subway (sandwich shop) rather than the awkward location of my work seemed to straighten things out.
Dropping off has been a bit random. The app mapping can't quite wrap its digits around the location of our tower block so the bus has sometimes veered off course. Fortunately all the drivers I've encountered so far have been extremely friendly and helpful and been happy to veer off whatever the satnav is telling them to simply drop me outside the main gate to the property. This doesn't seem to be an uncommon problem; one of the drivers did refer to teething problems.
But suffice to say, I really like this service for all of the reasons I've already mentioned. Now that my foot's better, I'm most likely to be using it on a Sunday so that I can be home in time for Doctor Who or rather a roast dinner and then Doctor Who. My guess is the more people use the service, the more reliable it'll become. I could imagine this replacing other transport as a safer, more viable way to travel. Although it stops at 8pm each evening so it won't replace the night bus just yet.
Liverpool Bus Hack.
Liverpool Life Lately for various reasons this past couple of years I've been getting the bus home from the Liverpool One bus station, the 80, the 80s, the 75,the 75a, the 76 and during rush hour such services, despite me only living at Sefton Park, because of rush hour and the process of getting through the traffic in the city, and collecting passengers at the various stops can take up to fifty minutes if I get on at 4pm.
Except this month and next, from the beginning of March to the end of April, due to gas maintenance work on Hanover Street, these buses are not at Liverpool One. They're picking up and dropping off at Great Charlotte Street. Coming into town this means I've been getting off at the old Lewis's building and walking down Raneleigh Street into Hanover Street and onwards to my destination, which I've quite enjoyed, especially being able to pass through WH Smiths at Central (underground) Station on the way.
Coming home, being an entirely lazy human and wanting to avoid the crush of Great Charlotte Street in rush hour and all the "hey, there's a queue here" moans which come with that bus stop, I decided to throw out convention and catch a 27 bus, the Sheil Road circular to close to home and walk from there instead. I assumed this would cock up the whole routine, making the process of coming home even more taxing.
Um, no. It's not worked out that way. In fact, I can't imagine why I didn't think of this before.
Catching the 27 cuts out the whole of the city centre. Travelling towards Parliament Street thence to Park Road to Princes Avenue takes about ten minutes, twenty minutes shorter than it takes to get through the city street on the edge of being engulfed by rush hour traffic. Then, being as I said inherently lazy and with a Day Rider or Saveway-type ticket, I've jumped off the 27 and onto a 75 which has taken me to my usual bus stop near home.
A home I've now getting to a full half hour less than I have for the past two years on those days. Like I said, I can't imagine getting a different bus from there now.
Some notes:
-- This can only work with these buses. Even when they return, this will not save you from the murder of the 86 or 86a. Unless you get the 27 to Princes Avenue swap to a 80 or 75 then swap again on Smithdown Road at the stop near the post office. This seems like it could be unnecessarily complicated, but I guess there are probably enough 86s on the roads that the wait times will still be shorter than the mess of getting out of the city centre on a busy day.
-- This happened on Monday:
On Tuesday I missed the 27 (though they run about every five minutes) and this queue, which looks like a daily occurrence seems actually to have been for the X1, the Runcorn express bus which goes up the Dock Road to Aigburth Road and seems to be the way that people who'd usually get the 82 skip the city centre themselves. Quite how the gentleman expected me to know this, I'm not sure.
Except this month and next, from the beginning of March to the end of April, due to gas maintenance work on Hanover Street, these buses are not at Liverpool One. They're picking up and dropping off at Great Charlotte Street. Coming into town this means I've been getting off at the old Lewis's building and walking down Raneleigh Street into Hanover Street and onwards to my destination, which I've quite enjoyed, especially being able to pass through WH Smiths at Central (underground) Station on the way.
Coming home, being an entirely lazy human and wanting to avoid the crush of Great Charlotte Street in rush hour and all the "hey, there's a queue here" moans which come with that bus stop, I decided to throw out convention and catch a 27 bus, the Sheil Road circular to close to home and walk from there instead. I assumed this would cock up the whole routine, making the process of coming home even more taxing.
Um, no. It's not worked out that way. In fact, I can't imagine why I didn't think of this before.
Catching the 27 cuts out the whole of the city centre. Travelling towards Parliament Street thence to Park Road to Princes Avenue takes about ten minutes, twenty minutes shorter than it takes to get through the city street on the edge of being engulfed by rush hour traffic. Then, being as I said inherently lazy and with a Day Rider or Saveway-type ticket, I've jumped off the 27 and onto a 75 which has taken me to my usual bus stop near home.
A home I've now getting to a full half hour less than I have for the past two years on those days. Like I said, I can't imagine getting a different bus from there now.
Some notes:
-- This can only work with these buses. Even when they return, this will not save you from the murder of the 86 or 86a. Unless you get the 27 to Princes Avenue swap to a 80 or 75 then swap again on Smithdown Road at the stop near the post office. This seems like it could be unnecessarily complicated, but I guess there are probably enough 86s on the roads that the wait times will still be shorter than the mess of getting out of the city centre on a busy day.
-- This happened on Monday:
I would have any clue who amongst the multitude I supposed to stand behind and who'd got there and when. Just him presumably. (2)
— Stuart Ian Burns (@feelinglistless) March 9, 2015
On Tuesday I missed the 27 (though they run about every five minutes) and this queue, which looks like a daily occurrence seems actually to have been for the X1, the Runcorn express bus which goes up the Dock Road to Aigburth Road and seems to be the way that people who'd usually get the 82 skip the city centre themselves. Quite how the gentleman expected me to know this, I'm not sure.
The Doctor meets #leveson.
Education Liverpool John Moores University has updated a short video of their graduation ceremony featuring the university's chancellor, Lord Leveson and Paul McGann who was receiving an honorary degree at an event which took place at the Anglican Cathedral yesterday.
The Bread Shop.
Geography Every so often the superlocal intrudes on the national and so is the case with the emergence of The Bread Shop on Aigburth Road in Liverpool, walking distance around Sefton Park from us and its advertising which has amused Esther Addley who on Monday said:
"Supermarket Waitrose offers free coffee and newspapers to shoppers, and small retailers complain that the retail giant is squeezing them out of business. Perhaps a new approach is needed. We applaud the example of the small grocery on Aigburth Rd in Liverpool, for instance, which tempts customers with a free coffee when they buy a paper (we approve) and, this being Liverpool, the vow: "We do not sell the Sun". But it's the tantalising promise, on a board outside, of "Crap sweets and rude staff" that surely has the crowds flocking. We try to call, to check rudeness levels reach the desired mark, but when we finally locate a number, it reaches a fax. Refreshing, in this day and age, to get what you are promised."Later in the week she managed to phone back and ....
"Reader Liz Semeonoff gets in touch about our item earlier in the week about The Bread Shop, a small bakery on Aigburth Road in Liverpool, that flogs its wares under the slogan "Crap sweets and rude staff". "It's a fabulous shop which sells a huge range and the staff are great," she says. "The shop owner always has a smile and a hello for customers." We try once again to call and this time reach Alan Gordon, whose grandfather Len and father Frank have been running the shop since 1958, now joined by next door sweet shop (The Sweet Shop) and cafe (The Cafe). Turns out he's not rude at all. "We've always had pretty good banter with the customers," he says. "Not like Tesco where they don't look at you". You can also buy T-shirts and mugs reading "Terrible service and lousy food", while the shop's carrier bags carry the slogan "I've just supported a family business" along with a picture of Gordon's three-year-old daughter Ava and the words, "I'll be the boss one day." Lovely."Yes, indeed, lovely.
Liverpool International Music Festival 2013 from the air.
Music Unfortunately it's quite difficult to tell what with the trees and child's fun fair blocking the view but, even accounting for food festivals, Africa Oye and random hot days, this may well be the most people I've seen in the field beneath my window. It's day three of the free portion of the Liverpool International Music Festival 2013 and this shot was taken at about seven o'clock this even just as today's final act, Robbo Ranx Ft Ghetto Youth International With Damian, Steven And Julian Marley, this being the world music day.
I've been out and about on all three days and the mood's been good natured. I had a particularly transcendental moment yesterday afternoon sitting opposite the bandstand listening to Sophia Ben Yousef covering Nina Simone's Feeing Good (here's an earlier performance on YouTube) (and here's her Sound Cloud) though I didn't get along quite so well on Friday night with the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. I had a prime spot next to the stage but there were too many people with cameras and phones recording the experience rather than living it which became too distracting. This essentially.
But overall, the event seems have been a success, especially if the rapidity of twitter comments is a guide almost all of which have been positive. Perhaps it's a shame that there aren't more of the larger acts in the free portion, though we do have Rebecca Ferguson, The Christians and Soul II Soul visiting tomorrow which is an interesting mix. Perhaps there'll be even more people for that. Perhaps I'll need to take another photo. Either way congratulations organisers for creating something new from old that Liverpool can still be proud of.
The Liverpool Shakespeare Festival 2012 begins soon
Plug! The Liverpool Shakespeare Festival 2012 begins soon with productions of A Midsummer Night's Dream ...
"Hermia loves Lysander loves Helena loves Demetrius loves Hermia.And the Scottish Play:
A night of magic and music in Liverpool clubland as four friends try to escape the wedding plans that their parents have put in place. Fairies and dreams light up the night as love tries to find its way. But the course of true love never does run smooth and there is mischief to be had."
"Gang warfare rages on the streets of Liverpool. General Macbeth is elevated to Thane of Cawdor, the right hand man of Duncan, the gang’s undisputed Kingpin. A loyal soldier, Macbeth is set to be leader one day if he bides his time. He can be Kingpin sooner if he listens to his Lady, screws his courage to the sticking place and takes matters into his own hands."Both featuring the same cast with includes Michael Ryan (Across the Universe / Hollyoaks) and Zoe Lister (Hollyoaks / Doctor Who) and both at the Royal Court Theatre between 21st September and 13th October. Full details available here.
The optimal time to visit is around lunch time.
Life Today was the seconds of the Liverpool Food and Drink Festival which lacks the shock of the new of the opening day but has the added advantage of knowing already which stalls gave out the best free samples. The optimal time to visit is around lunch time. All of the stalls are opened up and cooking and there are few queues. By three o'clock the field is full and only the smaller cafe places are accessible. I'm having goats cheese salad from Mello Mello tonight and some pizza for just this reason. Also because I quite fancied goats cheese salad from Mello Mello tonight and some pizza.
The stand out stall for me was from Central Perk. That's Central Perk, an independent outpost of which has opened up in Hatton Garden in Liverpool. That's Liverpool. They've now received proper licensing from Warner Bros and the attention to detail in the shop is amazing with just the right logo, types of chairs and table, brick finish on the walls, an open-mic night called "Finding Pheobe" and a special coffee blend. Just to add to the experience, there's also a Tribbiani's Pizza place next door fitted out like a period New York restaurant which does one pizza on top of the other just as Joey likes them, "We do that here too in honour of the great man."
The stand out stall for me was from Central Perk. That's Central Perk, an independent outpost of which has opened up in Hatton Garden in Liverpool. That's Liverpool. They've now received proper licensing from Warner Bros and the attention to detail in the shop is amazing with just the right logo, types of chairs and table, brick finish on the walls, an open-mic night called "Finding Pheobe" and a special coffee blend. Just to add to the experience, there's also a Tribbiani's Pizza place next door fitted out like a period New York restaurant which does one pizza on top of the other just as Joey likes them, "We do that here too in honour of the great man."
The Olympic Torch Relay.
Sport The Olympic Torch Relay. The Olympic torch relay. I’m not sure where the capitals are supposed to go, but I was sure that for all my cynicism about ticketing allocation, the siphoning off of money from less populist culture to pay for it and LOCOG’s shenanigans, I had to attend the Olympic Torch Relay, the Olympic torch relay. Checks main website. Olympic Torch Relay it is then.
Indeed I can’t quite understand why you wouldn’t bother, especially if you had the opportunity. As it spaghettis across the country taking in most of the major cities and at least some of the minor towns, there’s certainly enough time. I know people who desperately wanted to see it but couldn’t get time off from their employer, so in a way I felt like I had to see it for them too.
Not everyone has that spirit, it seems. Passing up Hope Street this afternoon on the way the place where I’d be standing, a mother was herding her brood up the pavement. One her boys looked up and asked, “Aren’t we staying to see the Olympic torch?” to which is Mum replied, “Why? It’s just someone running up the road carrying a torch.”
I was desperate to say something, say “Well, yes it is, but think of your boy in twenty years when he’s in the pub talking about all this and when asked if he saw it, his story’s going to be what you just said. It might get him the sympathy vote, perhaps even a sympathy drink, but if he’s desperate to see it you might as well give him the hour.” But I didn’t because it was none of my business.
Instead I carried on up towards the Metropolitan Cathedral, outside which the Archbishop of Liverpool was having his photo taken with five women in top hat, tails, miniskirt and fishnet stockings (Zatanna basically). Inside the cathedral’s café, a girl in a kimono practiced an intricate dance, swishing her sleeves around in circles. For a few moments, I felt like my life was being written and directed by Stephen Poliakoff.
I’d decided to stand in the university district on Brownlow Hill, near the red brick Victoria Museum and Art Gallery, guessing that the crowds would be thinner than in the city centre, and being students slightly more fun and less aggressive, mostly because I like to think that’s what I was like as a student and that has to be the template, doesn't it?
When I arrived at about four o’clock, the streets were empty which boded well for finding a decent speck. But was early so I bought a 99 from an ice cream van, watched some of the entertainment laid on by the University radio station (Chinese drums), winced in Rymans at the exorbitant price of blank dvds and them met a friend in Blackwells who told me that the torch wouldn’t be passing by for another hour.
Eeep. Thankfully after some more strolling about, time passed relatively quickly and by about twenty to five I was standing up the hill outside one of the Electical Engineering buildings, the Sun reflecting brightly across its glass and white modernist tiling. On the balcony of the building, a group had gathered in swimsuits carrying beers. They were the happiest people there.
Waiting. Waiting. Chatting, to a couple of students stood next to me, about why we’d come, about the impossibility of buying tickets, about just what time the torch would actually be passing by. The crowds built. Random cheering ensued, mostly initiated by the people in swimsuits, sometimes after egging someone to remove most of their clothing too, something they succeeded in a few times. No, not with me.
At about 4:45, things occurred. After some stewards arrived to hopelessly ask us not to stand in the road, the first lot of support vehicles drove through, police on bikes (cheer), police car (cheer), Coca-Cola lorry (muted cheer), Samsung (cheerishing), Lloyds (cheer), yellow Olympic vehicles some carrying torch bearers (massive cheer) and then … a number 79 bus. The torch would be on time, then.
Which it was. At ten past five, more police bikes and cars, more Olympic vehicles, the security joggers in their grey track suits and in the middle the torch bearer, whoever he was. The experience of watching wasn’t unlike the Sea Odyssey giants of a few weeks ago, the surge of people, the shouty stewards, the desperate photography, the fleeting moments in which suddenly it's there, then just as suddenly it's gone.
I wish I knew who the torch bearer was. I’ve had a look at the Olympics website isn’t clear on exactly who had the opportunity when and the above photographic evidence is too indistinct for a positive identification. But he was smiling, enjoying himself and that’s the main thing. Certain other torchbearers haven’t seemed like they’ve really understood the honour.
After the biggest cheer went to the street cleaning wagon following the entourage it was over and the long walk to public transport began. I decided to head down Hardman Street to Forbidden Planet to collect my comics order (which is about what you'd expect). As I walked up Rodney Street, in the very distance I could see the torch passing another crowd outside Liverpool Cathedral. Same cheers.
Turning onto Leece Street, I realised that the torch would be passing again up Renshaw Street. Picking up the pace, I dashed to the bottom and waltzed through the traffic onto the small island opposite the Sainsburys. Behind me the steps of St Lukes again were full and as the same vehicles passed by, it became apparent to them that they were very much in the wrong place. Surge forward.
But somehow I’d managed to plonk myself in front of all of them and was within feet of the path of the torch which, sure enough passed again. Another surge of people, more shouty stewards, more desperate photography, more fleeting moments of the torch being suddenly there, then just as suddenly gone. No photograph this time, just a memory of the torch's golden mesh sparkling in the daylight.
Indeed I can’t quite understand why you wouldn’t bother, especially if you had the opportunity. As it spaghettis across the country taking in most of the major cities and at least some of the minor towns, there’s certainly enough time. I know people who desperately wanted to see it but couldn’t get time off from their employer, so in a way I felt like I had to see it for them too.
Not everyone has that spirit, it seems. Passing up Hope Street this afternoon on the way the place where I’d be standing, a mother was herding her brood up the pavement. One her boys looked up and asked, “Aren’t we staying to see the Olympic torch?” to which is Mum replied, “Why? It’s just someone running up the road carrying a torch.”
I was desperate to say something, say “Well, yes it is, but think of your boy in twenty years when he’s in the pub talking about all this and when asked if he saw it, his story’s going to be what you just said. It might get him the sympathy vote, perhaps even a sympathy drink, but if he’s desperate to see it you might as well give him the hour.” But I didn’t because it was none of my business.
Instead I carried on up towards the Metropolitan Cathedral, outside which the Archbishop of Liverpool was having his photo taken with five women in top hat, tails, miniskirt and fishnet stockings (Zatanna basically). Inside the cathedral’s café, a girl in a kimono practiced an intricate dance, swishing her sleeves around in circles. For a few moments, I felt like my life was being written and directed by Stephen Poliakoff.
I’d decided to stand in the university district on Brownlow Hill, near the red brick Victoria Museum and Art Gallery, guessing that the crowds would be thinner than in the city centre, and being students slightly more fun and less aggressive, mostly because I like to think that’s what I was like as a student and that has to be the template, doesn't it?
When I arrived at about four o’clock, the streets were empty which boded well for finding a decent speck. But was early so I bought a 99 from an ice cream van, watched some of the entertainment laid on by the University radio station (Chinese drums), winced in Rymans at the exorbitant price of blank dvds and them met a friend in Blackwells who told me that the torch wouldn’t be passing by for another hour.
Eeep. Thankfully after some more strolling about, time passed relatively quickly and by about twenty to five I was standing up the hill outside one of the Electical Engineering buildings, the Sun reflecting brightly across its glass and white modernist tiling. On the balcony of the building, a group had gathered in swimsuits carrying beers. They were the happiest people there.
Waiting. Waiting. Chatting, to a couple of students stood next to me, about why we’d come, about the impossibility of buying tickets, about just what time the torch would actually be passing by. The crowds built. Random cheering ensued, mostly initiated by the people in swimsuits, sometimes after egging someone to remove most of their clothing too, something they succeeded in a few times. No, not with me.
At about 4:45, things occurred. After some stewards arrived to hopelessly ask us not to stand in the road, the first lot of support vehicles drove through, police on bikes (cheer), police car (cheer), Coca-Cola lorry (muted cheer), Samsung (cheerishing), Lloyds (cheer), yellow Olympic vehicles some carrying torch bearers (massive cheer) and then … a number 79 bus. The torch would be on time, then.
Which it was. At ten past five, more police bikes and cars, more Olympic vehicles, the security joggers in their grey track suits and in the middle the torch bearer, whoever he was. The experience of watching wasn’t unlike the Sea Odyssey giants of a few weeks ago, the surge of people, the shouty stewards, the desperate photography, the fleeting moments in which suddenly it's there, then just as suddenly it's gone.
I wish I knew who the torch bearer was. I’ve had a look at the Olympics website isn’t clear on exactly who had the opportunity when and the above photographic evidence is too indistinct for a positive identification. But he was smiling, enjoying himself and that’s the main thing. Certain other torchbearers haven’t seemed like they’ve really understood the honour.
After the biggest cheer went to the street cleaning wagon following the entourage it was over and the long walk to public transport began. I decided to head down Hardman Street to Forbidden Planet to collect my comics order (which is about what you'd expect). As I walked up Rodney Street, in the very distance I could see the torch passing another crowd outside Liverpool Cathedral. Same cheers.
Turning onto Leece Street, I realised that the torch would be passing again up Renshaw Street. Picking up the pace, I dashed to the bottom and waltzed through the traffic onto the small island opposite the Sainsburys. Behind me the steps of St Lukes again were full and as the same vehicles passed by, it became apparent to them that they were very much in the wrong place. Surge forward.
But somehow I’d managed to plonk myself in front of all of them and was within feet of the path of the torch which, sure enough passed again. Another surge of people, more shouty stewards, more desperate photography, more fleeting moments of the torch being suddenly there, then just as suddenly gone. No photograph this time, just a memory of the torch's golden mesh sparkling in the daylight.
"the constituency race in Kettering in 1945"
Film On my Hamlet weblog, I've posted about how the British Council have uploaded a selection of their films for streaming and download and talked about the Shakespeare content (films of Macbeth and Julius Caesar). But there are bits and pieces which are more in the interests of this blog.
For example, here's a nine minute film "Merseyside" which describes the Mersey from its source in the Derbyshire hills to its estuary below Liverpool, "to where stand Birkenhead and Liverpool, two of England's greatest ports, linked together by the great engineering achievement, the Mersey Tunnel. In these two towns, mile upon mile of docks confront the eye, as befits the gateways of the New World.'"
There's also General Election, a proto-Crick Newsnight style piece focusing on the constituency race in Kettering in 1945, the year when the country kicked out its war PM Churchill in favour Atlee on the assumption that Labour were better placed to rebuild the country rather than the Tories, a time when the Liberals were led by someone called Archibald Sinclair.
Or how about Morning Paper which follows the production of an issue of The Times during the Blitz, from the daily editorial conference to the printing presses when it was still a paper of some authority, a mantle I'd argue is now under the auspices of The Guardian. But then I would think that, wouldn't I?
Shakespeare’s Globe’s touring production of Henry V as it appeared at the Liverpool Playhouse last night
Theatre Since I don’t want to spoil the experience through the kind of over-analysis that usually smears itself across this 480 pixel width column (or whatever it will be when I redesign the template in the future) here are just five things about the Shakespeare’s Globe’s touring production of Henry V as it appeared at the Liverpool Playhouse last night.
(1) Globe Theatre on Tour
Liverpool’s privileged to be given the opportunity to see this production before its summer season in the Globe, especially since this is the first of these touring exhibitions to pitch up here. Rather than offer a more conventional staging, designer Jonathan Fensum and the Globe’s artistic director Dominic Dromgoole have attempted as best they can to recreate the unique open air experience of seeing a Globe production within a proscenium arch theatre. They’ve achieved this by recreating, simplified, a section of the Globe’s stage as the set and keeping the house lights up in auditorium for the duration so that the production becomes more of a communal experience rather than something which is simply being presented to us.
(2) The Audience
But for much of the show, normal rules applied. At the real Globe the actors often have to fight against the mass of people and the usual environmental noises of the Southbank, interacting with them to keep the interest up just as would have happened in Shakespeare’s day. As in London, part of the action happens within the stalls, the characters running in an out of the audience, playing music. Yet for much of the show unless they were reacting to story or performances, the audience was so quiet and attentive I could actually hear the man sitting next to me breathing. Believe me, this isn’t a complaint. After my rubbish audience experiences (which to some extent included the Globe itself) being able to concentrate on the actors without a couple of rudesters having a chat nearby was an utter pleasure.
(3) The Prices
The other way the conventional theatre won out is in the ticket prices. The Globe replicates the economies of scale of the 1600s, the Groundlings in the yard, closest to the action paying a fiver, the prices increasing with the comfort of the seating. At the Playhouse, the best seats in the stalls were £17 on a weekday. I paid £15. The cheap seats in the gods were a tenner. Again, this isn’t a complaint. I got my money’s worth. Sitting in a relatively comfy seats is certainly preferable to standing on concrete for three hours. But I wonder if the company had considered playing a concert venue like the old Royal Court in Liverpool, without seating in the stalls, so that more people could stand at the edge of the stage, justifying a more Jacobean pricing structure.
(4) The Jig
The audience didn’t seem to know what to do with the jig at the end. At the actual Globe, it’s a moment of gleeful release in which the audience claps in time to this sudden burst of action from the cast, in which the temporary (if artificial) community we’ve developed across the three hours passage of the production offers a final farewell. At the Playhouse, as the jig began the audience just viewed it as part of the production, an esoteric addition. I was desperate to clap along as I even do when watching past productions on blu-ray (yes, indeed), but the group mentality got to me, so I simply tapped along with my foot. But there were smiles, we all seemed to enjoy it as did the actors, so perhaps that’s enough.
(5) Who’s in it from Doctor Who?
You'll no doubt be as pleased as I am to discover that my unbroken run of seeing plays at the theatre with actors who’ve been in Doctor Who is still unbroken. To the Tardis Index File, go:
Brid Brennan (Chorus / Queen Isabel)
Was the Visionary in DW: The End of Time.
Sam Cox (Pistol)
Was Detective Inspector Bishop in DW: The Idiot's Lantern.
At Big Finish:
James Lailey (Earl of Westmoreland / Captain Macmorris) was Minister Pryce in Excelis Rising and The Stone's Lament.
Jamie Parker (King Henry V) was Wulfric in Big Finish's Leviathan and Major Richter in BFA: The Architects of History.
Roger Watkins (Constable of France / Governor of Harfleur) was Garstang in the Gracless spin-off series.
(1) Globe Theatre on Tour
Liverpool’s privileged to be given the opportunity to see this production before its summer season in the Globe, especially since this is the first of these touring exhibitions to pitch up here. Rather than offer a more conventional staging, designer Jonathan Fensum and the Globe’s artistic director Dominic Dromgoole have attempted as best they can to recreate the unique open air experience of seeing a Globe production within a proscenium arch theatre. They’ve achieved this by recreating, simplified, a section of the Globe’s stage as the set and keeping the house lights up in auditorium for the duration so that the production becomes more of a communal experience rather than something which is simply being presented to us.
(2) The Audience
But for much of the show, normal rules applied. At the real Globe the actors often have to fight against the mass of people and the usual environmental noises of the Southbank, interacting with them to keep the interest up just as would have happened in Shakespeare’s day. As in London, part of the action happens within the stalls, the characters running in an out of the audience, playing music. Yet for much of the show unless they were reacting to story or performances, the audience was so quiet and attentive I could actually hear the man sitting next to me breathing. Believe me, this isn’t a complaint. After my rubbish audience experiences (which to some extent included the Globe itself) being able to concentrate on the actors without a couple of rudesters having a chat nearby was an utter pleasure.
(3) The Prices
The other way the conventional theatre won out is in the ticket prices. The Globe replicates the economies of scale of the 1600s, the Groundlings in the yard, closest to the action paying a fiver, the prices increasing with the comfort of the seating. At the Playhouse, the best seats in the stalls were £17 on a weekday. I paid £15. The cheap seats in the gods were a tenner. Again, this isn’t a complaint. I got my money’s worth. Sitting in a relatively comfy seats is certainly preferable to standing on concrete for three hours. But I wonder if the company had considered playing a concert venue like the old Royal Court in Liverpool, without seating in the stalls, so that more people could stand at the edge of the stage, justifying a more Jacobean pricing structure.
(4) The Jig
The audience didn’t seem to know what to do with the jig at the end. At the actual Globe, it’s a moment of gleeful release in which the audience claps in time to this sudden burst of action from the cast, in which the temporary (if artificial) community we’ve developed across the three hours passage of the production offers a final farewell. At the Playhouse, as the jig began the audience just viewed it as part of the production, an esoteric addition. I was desperate to clap along as I even do when watching past productions on blu-ray (yes, indeed), but the group mentality got to me, so I simply tapped along with my foot. But there were smiles, we all seemed to enjoy it as did the actors, so perhaps that’s enough.
(5) Who’s in it from Doctor Who?
You'll no doubt be as pleased as I am to discover that my unbroken run of seeing plays at the theatre with actors who’ve been in Doctor Who is still unbroken. To the Tardis Index File, go:
Brid Brennan (Chorus / Queen Isabel)
Was the Visionary in DW: The End of Time.
Sam Cox (Pistol)
Was Detective Inspector Bishop in DW: The Idiot's Lantern.
At Big Finish:
James Lailey (Earl of Westmoreland / Captain Macmorris) was Minister Pryce in Excelis Rising and The Stone's Lament.
Jamie Parker (King Henry V) was Wulfric in Big Finish's Leviathan and Major Richter in BFA: The Architects of History.
Roger Watkins (Constable of France / Governor of Harfleur) was Garstang in the Gracless spin-off series.
This is Sea Odyssey
Liverpool Life Chaos. I’m standing on Lime Street in Liverpool outside an Irish-American pub with the Statue of Liberty on the exterior and all around people are scattering left and right and looking up with a mix of apprehension and fear. But it’s not Liberty that’s causing this chaos, this isn’t Ghostbusters II, but as you can see above the massive shape of a man in an aqualung. This is Sea Odyssey, an arts adventure playing out across the streets of Liverpool this weekend, but because of work and transport, this is the only moment when I manage to catch a glimpse of some of it.
And just a glimpse, because amid, the cameras, the crowds, the volunteers asking for those cameras and crowds to step to one side to let the entourage through, despite its enormous size there isn’t much time to take in its reality as I find myself caught between Uncle’s forward motion and the man behind me angrily pushing me out of the way. I spend as much of the time looking at the kerb trying not to trip over as looking up and only manage to take a few haphazard photographs myself before Uncle is gone, such as is it with this kind of street puppetry.
But there’s no denying the achievement or the fabulous incongruity of seeing this alien shape within such a familiar urban setting. I know that he’s walking to meet his niece, the Little Girl Giant and her pet dog Xolo, taking them a message from the wreck of Titanic and others have photographs of her progress. It’s the kind of narrative made for the modern era, initiated by the artists, in this case Royale De Luxe, but only properly pieced together after the fact by its witnesses, the public and the media, most of whom won’t be able to see all of it live.
From their photography, you can see the mechanics of the pieces, supported by cranes and animated by members of the theatre group in the exterior structure, the Lilliputians, whose acrobatics provide extra entertainment. They bring humanity to these otherwise lifeless mannequins, making them speak. Making them breath. Allowing them to rest too, reposing when required in a deck chair or Uncle's choice of the red White Star Line container which will be his present and where he was outside St George's Hall just before I just about greeted him.
Then he’s gone, up towards Renshaw Street and the mass is wondering what to do next. Some people decide to follow him, some scatter towards empty bus stops and Lime Street Station is invaded. As I turn to walk up Copperas Hill, I almost bump into a girl who’s rooted to the spot still looking towards the sky. She’s grinning. “Wasn’t that amazing?” she says, obviously because she needs to say something to someone, her voice filled with awe. I smile too, realising her reaction is what all of this pandemonium has been about.
Hillsborough-Anfield Run.
Liverpool Life Unexpectedly, Sports Illustrated has a piece about the Hillsborough-Anfield Run which is taking place between April 12 and finish at Anfield on April 14 on behalf of the Hillsborough Justice Campaign and the Hillsborough Family Support Group. Georgina Turner offers a good synopsis of the issues and speaks to some of the participants:
"Standing at the Hillsborough Memorial Mosaic at Anfield on the opening day of this season, Dom Williams decided that he would put his newfound passion for running to a good cause and began assembling a team of six runners to cover the 76 miles between Sheffield and Liverpool with support from nine others. Earle, a seasoned marathon runner, has been encouraging the others to leap into ice baths and don compression tights in order to last the distance over three consecutive days. But treading the route that 96 Liverpool supporters did not will be an emotional as much as a physical challenge. Sheffield Wednesday has given them permission to start from the Leppings Lane end of the pitch at Hillsborough."Best of luck to you all. Donations can be made here.
the Story To Tell event at Liverpool One's Waterstones organised by Pencil Trick Productions
Books Tonight I attended the Story To Tell event at Liverpool One's Waterstones organised by Pencil Trick Productions, an independent production company which included a Q&A about writing in the modern world with guest speakers Sheila Quigley the crime author, writer and blogger Cath Bore and WEA Creative Tutor Organiser and storyteller, Bernie Kennedy.
Apart from the panel it was mainly an opportunity for local creatives to network which isn't something at which I'm naturally adept but given my situation is something I'm going to have to become unnaturally adept at (if you see what I mean). I did meet a couple of new people, well one new person and someone I already know from Twitter. I'm still on the nursery slopes, then.
Each of these kinds of events always seems to elicit at least one interesting thing and here is one of the interesting things which were elicited tonight. Back in December, during this blog's Review 2011, I was tasked with considering whether the physical book was due to become obsolete (coincidentally with an episode of the BBC's Imagine which did a much better job).
Therein I quoted from a survey which suggested the smallest group buying e-books were the over fifties, the largest the under forties and I set about trying to justify that with talk of portability, publication dates and the death of analogue, which is also roughly what Alan Yentob said a few days later. He also visited the Internet Archive, lucky sod.
What I found out tonight was that once again I should have listened to my Mother. When I was researching that blog post, I asked my parents if they'd use a Kindle and although they answered in the negative, Mum described how many of her friends have them. She also said that they didn't use them much as far as she knew which is why I disregarded the data.
Tonight, Sheila Quigley talked about various platforms and epublishing and described her experiences of book signings and her experience of audiences at book signings was this: she said that young people tend to want the real thing, something on paper, something (I'm extrapolating) to display on the shelf.
Then she said that most often their (grand)parents or the over-fifties in general would be the ones asking if a book was available electronically. When she asked why, they explained that it was because Kindle has the option to change the font size. Just that. Older readers with poorer eyesight can increase the size of the text so that it becomes more comfortable to read.
Well, of course they do. I do too, especially if I'm reading literature because it lessens the intimidating burden of turning a paper page and find a mass of words in six or eight point. When I ran this past my parents, they said it still wouldn't convince them to get a Kindle, but they still like paper books for their tactile nature and still have decent eyesight.
Large print books have generally been available in public libraries but in my experience have boring covers and are displayed away from the rest of the stock. The ability to buy them as ebooks must remove some of the stigma, I suppose, of admitting you even need a large print books (which are available on Amazon but a quick glance suggests sales numbers are minuscule).
I don't really have a conclusion to draw from this other than that the stereotypical expectation of who's using technology continues to change and that it's oddly amongst older people that practicality outweighs owning the physical object. Now, will someone explain to me why young people have started buying vinyl again? Who saw that coming?
Apart from the panel it was mainly an opportunity for local creatives to network which isn't something at which I'm naturally adept but given my situation is something I'm going to have to become unnaturally adept at (if you see what I mean). I did meet a couple of new people, well one new person and someone I already know from Twitter. I'm still on the nursery slopes, then.
Each of these kinds of events always seems to elicit at least one interesting thing and here is one of the interesting things which were elicited tonight. Back in December, during this blog's Review 2011, I was tasked with considering whether the physical book was due to become obsolete (coincidentally with an episode of the BBC's Imagine which did a much better job).
Therein I quoted from a survey which suggested the smallest group buying e-books were the over fifties, the largest the under forties and I set about trying to justify that with talk of portability, publication dates and the death of analogue, which is also roughly what Alan Yentob said a few days later. He also visited the Internet Archive, lucky sod.
What I found out tonight was that once again I should have listened to my Mother. When I was researching that blog post, I asked my parents if they'd use a Kindle and although they answered in the negative, Mum described how many of her friends have them. She also said that they didn't use them much as far as she knew which is why I disregarded the data.
Tonight, Sheila Quigley talked about various platforms and epublishing and described her experiences of book signings and her experience of audiences at book signings was this: she said that young people tend to want the real thing, something on paper, something (I'm extrapolating) to display on the shelf.
Then she said that most often their (grand)parents or the over-fifties in general would be the ones asking if a book was available electronically. When she asked why, they explained that it was because Kindle has the option to change the font size. Just that. Older readers with poorer eyesight can increase the size of the text so that it becomes more comfortable to read.
Well, of course they do. I do too, especially if I'm reading literature because it lessens the intimidating burden of turning a paper page and find a mass of words in six or eight point. When I ran this past my parents, they said it still wouldn't convince them to get a Kindle, but they still like paper books for their tactile nature and still have decent eyesight.
Large print books have generally been available in public libraries but in my experience have boring covers and are displayed away from the rest of the stock. The ability to buy them as ebooks must remove some of the stigma, I suppose, of admitting you even need a large print books (which are available on Amazon but a quick glance suggests sales numbers are minuscule).
I don't really have a conclusion to draw from this other than that the stereotypical expectation of who's using technology continues to change and that it's oddly amongst older people that practicality outweighs owning the physical object. Now, will someone explain to me why young people have started buying vinyl again? Who saw that coming?
"It’s a warm Indian summer morning in September 2020"
Liverpool Life Thursday night's Social Media Cafe brought the launch of Liverpool 2020, a blogging and social media project which asks us to imagine what Liverpool will be like eight year's hence. The opening post at the blog offers some form and a few ideas:
"It’s a warm Indian summer morning in September 2020, and I’m on my morning commute, walking down Upper Duke Street. As I near the Chinese Arch my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and it’s the location reminder I set last night – “pick up pastries for the meeting”. I divert my route slightly and call into the Banksy Bakery. That’s not its real name, Sam called it The White-Bread-house in a play on its original pub name, but the local nickname has stuck. I ask him for some danishes, and am also tempted by some of his outstanding soda bread – that’ll work for lunch…"Expect my entry when I've had a chance to think. I can barely deal with being thirty-seven let alone having to predict what like will be like when I'm forty-five. Twitter didn't exist eight years ago and I wasn't even thirty.
instead of a big dark blur, we see a big bright blur
Art This lunch time I attended the press preview for the Abandon Normal Devices arts festival which is happening in Liverpool this weekend. Work commitments and other things will prevent me from attending anything so I couldn’t help but be disappointed that I won’t be able to see the Pigs Bladder Football (in which the sports implements are being cultivated organically) or the Primate Cinema in which is apparently a hospital drama designed especially for chimps and the dozens of other events which have been programmed.
What I was able to see was a preview of FACT Liverpool’s new show, run in conjunction with AND, and in particular installation artist Kurt Hentschlager’s ZEE 2008/2011 or ZEE for short. ZEE is, well ZEE’s um, to be honest ZEE’s almost impossible to describe without resorting to film references and cliché, apart from to say it’s one of the most exciting installations I’ve ever “seen”. Hentschlager favours “immersive and overwhelming experiences” which fits in well with the Abandon Normal Devices since in this case the normal devices abandoned are our senses, particularly our eyesight.
The pre-amble is pure Jurassic Park. Assuming the public iteration is similar, you’re first handed an information sheet which under normal circumstances might as well be described as a spoiler sheet which gives an impression of what ZEE will be like. We’re told that this is a gallery filled with fog, with zero visibility and a rope to keep us supported and orientated. The rope also has instructions for use. The general advice is to keep moving but there are also safety instructions on what to do in the case of an emergency, especially a personal emergency.
Which then leads to a disclaimer form with a list of disorders and diseases which discount entry to the space:
Photosensitive epilepsyAs you can imagine by this stage I'm brimming with worry, fear, anxiety and genuine excitement, all of which are also printed on the faces of the press people in attendance. Even though we’ve been given a basic idea, there is still a genuine sense of curiosity about the fine mess we've gotten ourselves into. Seriously, if you want to visit and don’t want to have the process spoiled for you stop reading here because the movie references and clichés are about to start flying.
Asthma
Breathing of heart problems
Abnormal (high or low) Blood pressure
Migraine or headaches
Ear or eye diseases
Claustrophobia
Anxiety
And I am not pregnant.
After the forms are signed we're led back into The Box screen were the original AND presentation took place for a further briefing and the creation of a register since during each session or visitation into the space the staff have to count us all in and count us back out again. Then Hentschlager himself also intones some further safety warnings in a manner that suggests he's something of a showman on the quiet, knowing that the best way to build up the tension is to give his audience every opportunity back out. It works. By now anxiety has turned to dread. I'm sitting with the palm of my hand over my mouth, my skin crawling.
The corridor at the side of the main space has been turned into a couple of white rooms or staging areas. In the first, the register is read out again, we agree that we’re all present again, and then we’re led into the next which is already filling up with the smog, though it resembles smoke more, as though the room next door is on fire. If this was Outbreak or some kind of space exploration piece this would be very much the decontamination chamber and the very last chance for us to walk away. But the temptation is too great. With this much build up, with all the forms, we have to know now whether any piece of art can live up to this hype.
The door opens and we’re led into main room which is filled with the fog and our hand is placed on the rope and told to walk forwards. Within seconds the world as we know it is gone, replaced by a white void. The 9/11 reference is inescapable, the moment in the streets of New York after the towers fell and the air was filled with dust, but also if we’re being less reductive, The Fog, The Mist, Silent Hill or the remake of The Fog. This initial sensation is similar to Gregor Schneider’s Kinderzimmer which was at the Whitworth in Manchester in 2009, but instead of a big dark blur, we see a big bright blur.
What I gather must be a light show then begins but this isn’t some pyrotechnic display. Somehow abstract images are being created by messing with the natural functions of our eyesight so that we effectively have a kaleidoscopic effect directly in the retina. It’s impossible to photograph because a machine can’t easily simulate the effect and the photograph in the gallery leaflet (see above) just looks like a scene from one of the aforementioned films with a street level weather pattern in the title. Every now and then the ghostly figure of the person in front of me appears but they're turned into something other, frightening, in the chaos.
As I walk forward, my hands initially clasping the rope for dear life, the colours change, from one shade into a multitude, the full spectrum. I keep thinking about 2001: A Space Odyssey and wondered what Kubrick and Clarke would have made of what amounted to their stargate sequence turned into an "ultimate trip” (as the movie poster described it) which anyone (disclaimers accepted) could undergo. I imagine if a György Ligeti soundtrack had been applied with its monosyllabic minimalist chant the anxiety levels would have been even higher. But the artist wants to calm us so simply offers a simple, almost imperceptible accompaniment.
The optimal length for a visit is apparently twelve minutes. I left after seven although it felt much longer, impossible as it was to time the circuits. Everyone in the group was smiling. It was generally impossible to know what to say, so unlike anything else was the, yes, experience. Indeed the main topic of conversation was exactly how we would describe it, something I think I've entirely failed at here. If you are in Liverpool and don't suffer from any of those ailment and aren't pregnant, this is just something you're going to have to try for yourself.
Abandon Normal Devices is at FACT Liverpool until 27th November.
Costume Drama: Fashion from 1790 to 1850, the latest exhibition at Sudley House
Fashion Forrest Gump’s mamma always said, “you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes, where the go, where they've been” but as I discovered today at Costume Drama: Fashion from 1790 to 1850, the latest exhibition at Sudley House, it also helps if you can see the cut of the rest of their jib. When I arrive, exhibition curator Pauline Rushton is giving a talk during which she notes that when a lot of these fashions were acquired in the 1950s, retaining the details of the owner wasn’t of primary concern. Now we live in times were social history is just as important as design, such lost details have gained a new importance.
But all is not lost. The one male costume in the first room, a smart suit and britches seems from an initial glance to be the attire of someone very well to do. As the curator says, the usual reaction from visitors is “Oh, Mr Darcy.” Except if you look closer, you realise that the jacket and waist coat are made from a cotton derived fabric of a kind which would never be utilised by a member of the upper classes in this configuration and which is strong enough that it can be worn in most weathers and still keep its integrity. The trousers are corduroy, again not a fabric usually associated with the landed gentry.
So it’s possible to surmise that this is a working man’s suit. Except that it’s not designed for manual labour, the owner couldn’t lift a spade with it, so it has to be for someone who manages the workers, or collects land tax. Pauline said that it’s her favourite piece in the room and by the time she’d finished it was mine too, simply because it was such an expressive example of deductive reasoning and a demonstration that even the fashions which might not be the most aesthetically pleasing at first glance, certainly in comparison to some of the frocks on display, like some people, have hidden depths.
Across its three rooms, Costume Drama can’t and doesn’t seek to offer a complete picture of fashions in this period. As the title suggests, this is an opportunity for fans of Austen and her many adaptations to see the real deal up close, and gain some measure in seeing the accuracy with which the BBC costume department et al have created the period settings across these years. All of the dresses look like they could have the beating heart of Jennifer Ehle, Kate Winslet or Ruth Wilson beneath them but unlike some modern fashions still work as beautiful display objects in and of themselves.
The vibrant blue brocade day dress pictured above is probably my favourite simply because the colour is such a statement much needed for this frock's probably function in the early 1840s as the "going away dress" for a bride after a wedding, presumably something of a contrast from the white of the wedding dress. In this period, white was the predominant colour and seen as a sign of "purity and innocence" and most were designed to resemble to Greek marble statues which were being excavated at the time.
The most expensive dress costumes contain elaborate embroidery but it wasn’t until the advent of more complex printing processes, from hand printing to the placing of the pattern on a roll that the fabric in every day clothes became more complex. For a period, it was fashionable for the sleeves to have a “mutton leg” a kind of ball shaped bunching which began at the shoulder then across the years moved down the arm until the Victorian era when they were removed altogether.
Partly that was to do with fashion but mostly it was to do with a change in values. As the middle class ascended, we descended into what are now described as Victorian values, and fashions reflecting that with slimmer sleeves and the loss of low necklines. We loosened up again eventually, but clothes do still make the person. Perhaps we'll never reach a point where they stop being about projecting a set of moral choices or the connection to a sub-culture and simply become something to keep us warm.
Until 7 May 2012. Details here.
"meeting artists and gallerists"
Liverpool Life Sad but understandable times as Ian and Minako scale back Art In Liverpool the kind of amazing project that would take over your life. They've spoken to Seven Streets about their decision:
The press release offers more detail and a list of websites offering similar services. There's also m'LiverpoolBlogs with its Twitter feed, though obviously that project's focus is somewhat wider and more diffuse.
"It has taken up most of our time, nearly all day – every day in some way or other but that was not a problem as we enjoy it. We’ve learned that as well as online presence, attending events and meeting artists and gallerists is important to have face-to-face communication. Fortunately artists generally are really nice people and they are inspiring, we feel more at home in the artworld than anywhere else."Art In Liverpool's contribution to the local arts scene has been incalculable. offering a focal point for artists and those of who like what they do. It certainly made me more engaged and led to a number of amazing experiences. So I'd like to offer my personal thanks to Ian and Minako.
The press release offers more detail and a list of websites offering similar services. There's also m'LiverpoolBlogs with its Twitter feed, though obviously that project's focus is somewhat wider and more diffuse.
"These roads are awful."
Liverpool Life Not a taxi journey home goes by without the driver providing constructive criticism of the potholes around Sefton Park and the potential damage to the suspension on the cab. Appalling enough are these craters, large photographs of them appeared on the BBC News website earlier in the year. So it's not without pleasure that news comes that someone has ponied up to repair at least some of them:
DRIVER: These roads are awful. The council should fix them.
US: They won't because they're not adopted. They're not part of the highway network.
DRIVER: You'd think they'd still fix them.
US: They won't because they're not adopted. They're not part of the highway network.
DRIVER: Even so ...
At least now we'll have something else we can say.
"The Alicia Hotel has joined forces with the council to jointly fund resurfacing works on Aigburth Drive. The work will breathe new life into the road, between the traffic signals at Ullet Road and the roundabout at Aigburth Drive / Croxteth Drive.Too true. Which is why said conversation with taxi drivers always go the same way ...
"It is a major boost to the council’s aims to improve the roads around Sefton Park. The park is one of Liverpool’s most popular green spaces and was recently granted Green Heritage status. However, its roads are not adopted and as such are not maintained as part of the highway network."
DRIVER: These roads are awful. The council should fix them.
US: They won't because they're not adopted. They're not part of the highway network.
DRIVER: You'd think they'd still fix them.
US: They won't because they're not adopted. They're not part of the highway network.
DRIVER: Even so ...
At least now we'll have something else we can say.
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