Saturday, 24th December 2011
I was up at about 8am, woken by my ma’s clanking Zimmer frame as she bangs it into the landing skirting board. Steve was up and ready for action, though after another 2 and half hours we had still not set off for Liverpool. Mum was ok, didn’t need anything, then suggested eggs and another bottle of whiskey. Erm, yes, two things that don’t easily blend together. Anyhow, Aunty Pat came in asking if we wanted anything from Lidl, but we didn’t. She came back before we manager to get our backsides out of the door.
Buses are more expensive in Liverpool and are not regulated. There are two 10A services running between St Helens and Liverpool and the Arriva service is so much more expensive. Luckily the Stagecoach service came and I got a day ticket for £3.30. I once pointed out to Steve where Sterry Terry lived, in a block of flats near where the Bluebell pub used to be and he laughed as we passed it saying he was reminded of him. Terry lives in the Angel now, I see him occasionally. Oh Well.
We went straight into M&S when we got there and I got all of the things I wanted, which was mainly a black tie for next Wednesday. I also got a few gifts for mum, Aunty Pat and Uncle bill and some stocking fillers for Nick & K. We then wandered in search of a record shop. HMV had disappeared from Clayton Square, replace by some Danish cross between Argos and Maplins. We wandered towards the N1 centre, meaning the L1 centre, which is much bigger than the N1 centre in the Angel. I popped into Probe and then we found HMV and I tracked down “Stardust” by Artie Shaw, not in the Jazz section, but on a 3 disc compilation of music “from the war”, that also contained a track by Betty Driver, Hotpot Ken, twiddle beads. I also bought a Mose Allison CD, which contains his first two albums. Mum and Dad went to see him at some venue in Streatham High Road that I used to live near. I thought maybe there was a track on there suitable for the Committal, if not, then Frank Sinatra and Artie Shaw.
For Lunch, I suggested The Bridewell, mainly because Gary and Tommy mention it on Facebook sometimes. It took us a while to find it; it not being where it says it is on the net. Inside, the place stunk of disinfectant used to clean the toilets, something I hate in a pub. The tables are in the old cells and we found one and Steve was not a happy bunny, but as it had taken us ages, and we were cold and very hungry, we stayed an endured the watery scouse and Steve, his cremated Aberdeen Angus burger. Oh well, Steve said he would post a comment about it on a review site, but I suggested not doing that as a friend of Gary’s worked there.
We got a bus and on the way home, mum called to say the dog wouldn’t stop barking (and had woken her up), so I reassured her we were on our way. We popped into Prescot, which at 4pm on Christmas Eve was as dead as anything I had ever seen. We got the eggs, not the Whiskey and when I got home, realised that the gift for Aunty Pat didn’t really include Uncle Bill, with it being a teacup and saucer. Mum said the dog was a nuisance, but he was spark out on the back of the armchair when we walked in. Mum also said Trish and her family had come home from Gibraltar as a surprise for Aunty Pat, who didn’t know and had panicked thinking she was having to cook them some Christmas dinner. Surprise Surprise! A quiet evening and to bed at a reasonable time, if not a little anxious about it being Dad’s birthday tomorrow.
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