As I’d had such a fab time on my train awayday watching Chase at Kidsgrove recently, I took the opportunity to watch them in the North West once again. Liverpool is somewhere I don’t visit often enough and – shock horror – I don’t think I’ve ever blogged about it. Obvs that needed righting (writing?).
As I always do before I get dressed in the morning, I asked Alexa for the weather forecast for my destination. Today she said something I can’t remember her ever saying. Dear reader, she said it was going to be sunny. No showers, no flood alerts, no partly cloudy. Just sunny. I asked her to repeat this three times just to make sure I hadn’t misheard. Maybe she needed a service or was telling a little joke? This was, after all, November Up North. Well I didn’t know what to wear. I went with big coat and hat just to be on the safe side.
Lee despatched me at Blackpool North station, where I was greeted warmly by the man in the refreshment kiosk while ordering my Earl Grey, black, bag removed. Instead of sitting outside the caff, as I normally do, I decided to queue for the train, popping my brew on the floor to free up my hands for typing on my phone.
November is an important month for writers. It is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo or NaNo for short). It’s a worldwide thing, with lots of support for the writers involved, including a website, forums and tools to log and chart your progress. The idea is that you write 50,000 words over the course of November, equating to 1,666 words a day. Now I had less than 50k words remaining to complete the first draft of my memoir, so decided to give NaNo a go to motivate me towards my goal. I drew up a spreadsheet (I love a spreadsheet) detailing exactly when during the day I’d get my words in, which was basically first thing every morning. That meant writing on the train to Liverpool today, so I started while I waited for the train.
The queue started getting quite long and a woman who worked on the station asked:
‘Can we go wiggly wiggly please?’
I chuckled and adjusted my position.
Southbound
Now aboard the train, I was dismayed to find my carriage flooded with a party of young girls on their way to a children’s party. My mind flashed back to my journey home from Manchester the previous night on a packed-like-sardines train, when all the passengers were laissez faire about the whole thing because it was, after all, Friday night. One man remarked that he’d rather it be packed than have a screaming toddler in the carriage. And now here I was in a carriage full of young girls. I sighed and tried to focus on my writing.
‘I’ve got the sweets!’
A disturbing announcement from one of the parents with the children. Please don’t give them fucking sweets! Think of your fellow passengers!
‘Apologies in advance…’
‘Oh I don’t mind as long as I can have some sweets…?’
She must have thought I was joking but obvs I wasn’t.
‘Fizzy or normal?’
She wasn’t talking to me. Grr. Enough with the sweets already!
My phone pinged with a message from Rob, alerting me to a new episode of The Middle Aisle Podcast. Ooh great! That would block out the children nicely! But, no, this was my writing time and that must be protected at all costs. I was determined to finish my first draft this month (SPOILER ALERT: I’ve done it now! Woohoo!). I tried to block out the background noise, reasonably successfully.
‘Any song requests?’
Seriously? Fuck off!
I was soon joined at my table by a woman with her young daughter and both occupied themselves with some drawing challenges. I have zero experience in the world of parenting but I smile when I see a parent engaging with a child like this. Suddenly the woman blurted out:
‘Hayley – did you feed the kestrels before coming out today?’
At least I’m pretty sure that’s what she said. I shook my head and got back to my writing.
The woman with the party girls announced that it was almost time for the two minutes’ silence (it being 11th November today).
‘They’ll probably announce it on the train.’
I wasn’t convinced they would and, sure enough, bang on 11am:
‘This is St Helens Central.’
The colouring in was respectfully paused and the party girls, too, were silent for two minutes.
We were soon pulling into Liverpool Lime Street, exiting into a crowded station and a bustling city.
Pub?
Ship & Mitre
The first time I went pubbing in Liverpool, I proclaimed the first pub I went in as surely the best pub in the city. I repeated this proclamation in the next pub…and the next pub…and the next pub… In short, there is an abundance of excellent pubbage in Liverpool. How could I pick just one to visit today? Well my current favourite is the Ship & Mitre and I’m about to demonstrate why.
Yes, the Scouse is one thing that keeps drawing me back here, but more of that shortly…
On entering the pub, I was immediately greeted by a quickfire barmaid shooting questions at me. But it was too early! I didn’t know what I wanted yet! I was directed to the beer board.
‘Please can I have a half of each of the Marble Cherry Stout and the Lervig Ginger? Hmm I might need to come back after the match and have more.’
‘We do serve that ginger beer as a mixer so if you do come back later and want a rum in it…’
See why I like it here?
Obvs I was needing food asap with strong beers for breakfast.
Don’t know why I’m reading that. It’s Scouse all the way…
Bloody lovely this. Couldn’t eat it all though with my tiny appetite.
Right now I needed to leave. I trotted across the city towards Liverpool Central, where I boarded a train to Aintree.
On arrival at Aintree, I consulted Google Maps to help navigate my way to the ground. As I exited the station, I spotted an abandoned bottle opener on top of a hedge. Hmm. Should I take it? It wasn’t as if I’d get my bag searched going into a non league ground. I decided not to. It wasn’t as if I needed another bottle opener. I had more than one at home.
I diligently followed Google’s directions and soon found myself here.
City of Liverpool v Chasetown
Hang on. Bootle? Was I in the right place? As if by magic, Mick Joiner, former Chase chair, appeared, so I was instantly assured I was in the right place.
I headed straight for the clubhouse. I had a job to do here today. Chase Press Officer Paul is compiling a book on the history of Chase. You may recall I took a draft copy away from Kidsgrove for review. Well I’d since made some notes for suggested revisions and was going to talk Paul through them today, so that’s what happened.
Meanwhile I supped a pint of Guinness that took so long to be poured I got bored of waiting and ordered a Fanta and ended up with two drinks.
There was a man at the next table who appeared to be the club shop so I went over to have a nose at a couple of books he had on his table. He talked me through them and then we got chatting with a random Norwegian. He was a FK Bodø/Glimt fan over for the Liverpool match the following day. His friends had gone to watch Wrexham today ‘because…you know…’ but he’d decided to come here because he loved what City of Liverpool were doing.
I know I ought to have engaged the locals in City of Liverpool chat and learned about the club from the horse’s mouth but sometimes I have days when I don’t really feel like speaking to people. It’s a sort of social anxiety thing, I suppose. Anyway I was having one of those days today so you’ll have to make do with this link or do your own research.
I picked up a teamsheet.
The Norwegian asked me who were the players he should be looking out for today and I confessed I didn’t know any of the City of Liverpool players but Langy and Luke Yates score a lot for Chase.
‘Hold on…you support the opposition? What am I doing talking to you, then?’
I knew when I wasn’t wanted and headed out as it was now just before kick off. I didn’t venture far from the clubhouse. Here I got chatting to Martin and his son Ashley, the latter of whom I hadn’t met before. They shared their chips with me but there was no gravy on them (although there was accidentally-applied pepper).
I’m slowly starting to learn who the Chase players are (having not been to a single match last season). There was one I recognised but couldn’t name. Ah! It was the one with the BEST pic on the socials.
The first half was dire, with no chances at either end and nothing to report.
I moved for the second half, standing next to Langy’s parents. I was soon joined by Mark (Stoke/Chase fan) and chairman Steve Jones. Alas the football didn’t improve. Our hosts started hollering for penalties and, at the third attempt, were awarded one, which was successfully slotted home. Chase didn’t really start playing until ten minutes from the end, by which time it was too late. They should have had a penalty for handball, though, but it just wasn’t their day today.
Not only had Chase lost to a second half goal but Blackpool did too, away at Bolton. Could this be the curse of my unlucky hat, which I’d only put on at half time…?
I walked back to Aintree station with Martin and Ashley. Uh oh. It was bloody packed! It was a races day and we hadn’t realised. That abandoned bottle opener had been a clue I hadn’t picked up on.
Happily, most of the racing revellers appeared to be simply loitering or queueing for train tickets so, despite our initial panic, we were able to make our way onto the platform relatively easily. Miraculously, we also got seats on the train when it came.
I had planned a return visit to the Ship & Mitre to sample that ginger beer with rum but my map reading abilities feet had other ideas and I ended up back at Lime Street. Oh well – might as well head home now I’m here anyway.
Northbound
There was a loooooong wait of almost an hour for the next train to Blackpool. I did toy with the idea of getting the train to Wigan to call in at the Wigan Central beer festival (it was, after all, on my way home), but I instead resolved to make myself comfortable, head to M&S, grab some scran and a drink and wait patiently for the Blackpool train. Right, now what to have for tea?
Now, what to drink? Ooh I could have a beer on the train! Fuck it – why not? Ooh I love the M&S Christmas Porter! But it was in a bottle and I didn’t have a fucking bottle opener on me, did I…? If only I’d picked up that one from the hedge earlier. It had been placed there exactly for me, for this moment, and I’d failed to realise it at the time. Dammit. There was some canned beer but it was Brewdog and Beavertown and that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted the porter! I made do with this instead.
Eventually my train arrived. I don’t know why I expected it to have tables because the Liverpool-Blackpool trains usually don’t (this morning had been an anomaly). So I had to make do with eating my sandwich over my lap. It was nice but I’m not a massive fan of stuffing and I’m not sure what bacon has to do with Christmas (pigs in blankets? not a fan of those either). Turkey and cranberry would have done me just fine.
Across the aisle from me was a couple with bagloads of Christmas shopping. They’d clearly had a stressful day shopping in the busy city and were snapping away at each other. He decided to drink his beers on the train to make the journey less intolerable. Of course he had a bottle opener – as did the couple seated next to them, who were swigging bottles of lager. I could have had my porter after all! I am so out of practice at this train awayday lark. I need retraining (see what I did there?).
I would have listened to The Middle Aisle Podcast at this point but I’d forgotten my AirPods grr. Instead I perched my reading glasses on the end of my nose and tried to focus on reading my book. It was an occasionally heavy book (bits of medical science) called The Secret World of Sleep by Guy Leschziner and I struggled to focus as the tetchy Christmas shopping man relaxed into his beer and started chatting with anyone who wasn’t his wife.
At Preston, the train was invaded by boisterous Blackpool fans on their way home from Bolton. There was much chanting to be heard. When some lads started the (misogynistic) ‘Lancashire is Wonderful’ chant, they were instantly shouted down by the girls and I felt so proud. Go girls!
As I stepped off the train back at Blackpool North, I could see my breath for the first time this autumn. Was that the last of the sunny football days for the foreseeable? I was pleased that I was going to watch matches through choice now and wouldn’t be forced to go to any matches I didn’t want to go as the result of an insane addiction. The trouble is, I have so many friends to visit across the country these days so…Portsmouth away in sub-zero temperatures, anyone…?
Up Next: A Football Tourist’s Guide To Portsmouth – Part One: Gosport.
Using a northern train (run by anybody) in 2023 is not for the fainthearted. Using a northern train to visit Bootle during December surely deserves a medal.