On football-free Saturdays, I tend to find myself finding some football to go to; it’s simply what I do on a Saturday. But today I wasn’t sure if there WAS going to be any football. There was to be a pitch inspection at Vauxhall Motors at 0900 – and I was heading to Liverpool on the 0905 train. Thus I needed a Plan B and this was it:
Actually, truth be told, because I was (a) in pitch inspection limbo; and (b) out of practice at planning trips since my Christmas reboot, I didn’t have any set plan at all. And, as I mentioned in my Birmingham blog, the best trips are often the ones without a strict itinerary, as this allows room for impromptu surprises. There would be a few of those to come today – not all of them welcome…
I arrived at Blackpool North station nice and early because I was excited for the day ahead. As I approached the ticket barriers, I remembered that I needed to print off my tickets, as these weren’t electronic tickets as usual for some reason. I tutted and trotted across to the ticket machine. Job done, I skipped through the barriers, bidding good morning to the staff before heading to grab a brew from the kiosk on the concourse.
‘Earl Grey, black, bag removed, please.’
‘How soon do you want the bag removed?’
‘You’ve always got a supplementary question, you.’
‘I want to offer good service.’
‘Well you certainly do that. I don’t like it too strong, thanks.’
‘Should I remove it now?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Where are you off to today?’
Further supplementary questions led me to reveal my intentions for the day and my new friend pulled a puzzled face when I mentioned I was going to watch Vauxhall Motors v Chasetown. I said I knew it was a bit niche and explained that I used to work at Chase, so they were my non league team. We wished each other a good day and I took a seat out front while I waited for the door to access Platform 3 to open.
A group of women approached, and I chuckled as one dismissed the other:
‘I’m not a morning person. Give me an hour.’
I soon boarded the train, with Patrick Stewart for company.
I’m really enjoying immersing myself in his world through this beautifully-written memoir. I can’t wait to get to the Star Trek stuff (I’m a Trekkie). UPDATE: I’ve now finished this. It’s the best memoir I have read (and I read a lot of them, as I’m writing one). It made me smile a LOT and also made me cry. Extraordinary stuff.
POP!
‘It’s never too early!’
A group of women further down the carriage were set for a fun day out to celebrate a birthday.
‘It’s rubbish having a birthday in January. Everyone’s either ‘ooh I’m on a diet’ or ‘I’m doing Dry January.”
Not me, though. Well, I AM back on SlimmingWorld, but you know I still enjoy a day out on the lash once a week. It is important to support pubs all year round and I try to do my bit.
I received a message from Paul from Chasetown, confirming the match was ON. I felt a wave of disappointment, as this would leave me with less pub time than I wanted. But que sera sera. I would get to tick off a new ground and see all my friends from Chase and it would be an adventure. And I’d still get to at least three pubs.
I landed at Liverpool Lime Street at 1020. This was a deliberate pre-pub-opening arrival so I could be in the first pub bang on opening time and thus maximise my pub time. It was a beautiful day for a walk in the brilliant sunshine and it wasn’t cold at all. And, more notably, it wasn’t raining. I can’t remember life before rain. It has rained constantly up here for what seems like two years. So this was a delight, with no puddles to dance around. I was a bit TOO early really, but the trains are only once an hour, so it had to be done. Here are some highlights from my walk.
I noted with excitement that this pub had its doors open, so I trotted in for a bonus tick, only to be met with a chorus of ‘we’re not open yet!’, so I quickly turned heel.
Eventually I resolved to loiter outside the doors to my designated first pub. I was not the only one doing so, either, as I observed a couple of Scandinavian men clearly doing the same.
The Philharmonic Dining Rooms
Ah yes, the toilets! These are a tourist attraction, being Grade I listed. They are famous in pub circles but I have to say I was never too keen to view them, despite being invited to do so by a number of men over the years. On a later visit, however, I was shoved into them by a random stranger:
‘Come on, there’s no-one in there now, you can have a look.’
‘But…’
Today, however, I felt it was important to photograph these famous toilets for you, dear reader. I knew there would be no-one in there, as me and the Scandis were the only customers. I also asked permission of the man behind the bar. Anyway here they are.
I tweeted this photo and it went viral, with over 114k views at the time of writing. I’m not sure what that says about people (or me, come to think of it) but anyway it got me over the 5,000 follower mark, so I’m not complaining (hello, if you’re new to the blog – you’ll be pleased to read that toilets often feature, although they are usually the ladies).
Right. I was here first because I wanted to eat here. I grabbed the menu, reminded myself I wanted the Nourish Bowl Salad (the most SlimmingWorld friendly option – and also yummy, as I know from accidentally trying it in York) and stepped up to the bar.
‘Are you serving food?’
‘Not til 12 o’clock.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’
I was swearing at myself really for not checking the food service time (I told you I was out of practice). I had a train to catch at 1250 so 1200 would be pushing it and I don’t like to rush as it’s stressful. I ordered a beer while I was there and considered my next move.
An uninspiring choice with no stouts or porters but I went for a half of the Mad Goose because I’d seen on Beer Twitter that Purity were in trouble. It was a bit hoppy for me but had a nice fruity flavour. I prefer their Pure Gold, which I drank a lot of in Birmingham over the years.
I took a seat in this magnificent chair.
I was in the same room as the Scandi men and I soon observed that they were talking about the football, identifying such words as ‘Birmingham’ and ‘Norwich’. A Scouser popped his head into the room, had a look round, remarked that it was a beautiful room, spoiled by the telly above the door, then continued his tour of the pub.
Now, what was I going to do about food? I wished I’d eaten at the Quick Chef Turkish BBQ Cafe next door to the Philly – I’d had time and had even considered the menu, which had lots of SlimmingWorld friendly options. But I had taken the decision to take the risk of the pub not serving food until noon because I wanted to eat in the pub if possible so I could show you their food. I knew that the next pub had famous pies. I don’t like pies but, if that was my only choice of food, then I had no choice but to consider it as an option. My pub list informed me it opened at 1130 so I supped up and trotted off.
Liverpool was now springing to life, with more people milling about than before. I noted that many of them were speaking with foreign accents. I never realised Liverpool was quite so culturally diverse. But I guess it was European Capital of Culture in 2008, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.
The pubs were opening, too. As I was about to pass one that wasn’t on my list but I had visited before, I remembered the sage words of fellow pub blogger and former housemate Evo: ‘Never walk past a pub.’ I stepped through the doors for a – ahem – flier.
Fly in the Loaf
There was nobody in sight in this pub. I lingered for a few seconds before turning heel and continuing on to the next pub on my list. However, despite it now being 1135, the doors remained firmly closed. I decided to head back to the Fly while I waited, in the hope that someone would surface to serve me.
Someone did appear, but with the news that they weren’t open yet. What is it with these Liverpool pubs teasing me with their open doors when they weren’t open? I returned to the pub I had actually wanted to go to – and was relieved that its doors were now open. Yippee!
Roscoe Head
The thing with Liverpool is, when you think you’ve found the best pub in Liverpool, there’s ALWAYS another one that stakes a claim to the title. I’ll be honest and tell you that, if I wasn’t writing this blog, I’d have just gone to the Ship & Mitre today because I love it and have designated it my favourite. And, as my Untappd stats will verify, I am visiting fewer pubs these days (albeit drinking a wider variety of beers), concentrating my drinking in those pubs that I love, trying to do my bit to keep them going, as I know times are really hard for pubs right now. But THIS pub, Roscoe Head, exemplified exactly why it is so important that I undertake this research and visit more pubs in this wonderful city. Because there will ALWAYS be other favourites in Liverpool.
Right, let’s take a look at the beer board, shall we?
Obvs I’m all over the Black Edge here. I had heard this place served the best kept beer in Liverpool – and this did not disappoint. The beer was delivered with a warning that it was a dark beer, but I explained that is exactly what I like.
The pies DID look alluring, so I made enquiries as to their contents. I was torn between the Pork & Black Pudding Pie and the Scouse Pie. I asked my host for his recommendation and he said the Scouse Pie was very good. I was pleased he’d said that and ordered one right away.
Dear reader, this was the most exquisite pie I have ever tasted. Remember, I don’t even LIKE pies. I don’t mind the odd Balti Pie at a match when starving (although they vary in quality). And I did have an exceptional one at Crystal Palace once. But THIS. Oh my word. This was the fine dining of pies. And so much gravy! I would be back for more for sure. PS It didn’t need the sauce, so I didn’t use it, before you start on the whole Daddies v HP debate (HP every day of the week, btw).
‘Did you enjoy that?’ I was asked, as my plate was cleared away.
‘Yes I did – very much, thank you.’
As I turned the focus to my beer, I chuckled as I overheard our host talking a foreign visitor through the drinks options.
‘These are all lagers and ciders and these are proper beers.’
I was reluctant to leave this new favourite, this cosy, traditional, local boozer. But leave I must, as I had a train to catch to the match.
I trotted back to Lime Street, realised I was getting a Merseyrail tube type thing and wondered where I would get that from. It would be signposted, surely? It was, and I headed down, down, deeper and down to board the train to Overpool.
I hadn’t been down here since a terrifying trip to/from Tranmere in the dark. I don’t like the underground. I can’t see where I am geographically (yes, I know there are station signs, but you know what I mean – no landmarks or anything). And I can’t help thinking I’m on the set of a horror movie and about to get murdered. As a woman, there are places (and times of day) I feel more vulnerable. And underground is one.
Once again I had Patrick Stewart for company on the journey to help me forget where I was and the train journey was pleasant enough.
At one of the stops, I chuckled as I heard the train manager urging someone to ‘keep running’ so they could make the train.
As I waited to disembark at Overpool, she advised caution, as the doors didn’t open fully.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll breathe in.’
And off I trotted on the next stage of today’s adventure.
Overpool
I was at the mercy of Google Maps here, as I had no idea where Vauxhall Motors played. It was, apparently, a two-mile walk from Overpool station. I considered the route, which looked pretty straightforward. It looked like the it might be a bit grim in the dark, though, so I resolved to try and get a lift back to the station after the match from a travelling Scholar. I don’t mind a good walk – it is all good Body Magic to assist with the SlimmingWorld plan – so a two-mile walk was welcomed. I turned left out of the station and continued in a straight line – consulting Google Maps at junctions, just in case. I spotted a turnoff for Rivacre Road – the road the ground was on – but Google insisted I continue on the road I was on and Google is the expert in such things, so on I trotted, soon conducting a tricky manoeuvre across the motorway slip road.
On the other side of the M53, my walk took me up a deserted private road, up a hill, which I was pleased I managed without getting short of breath, thanks to my incline work on the treadmill at the gym. I didn’t see a soul this side of the motorway, but there were a lot of squirrels.
Now it was as I traversed the car park of the factory that I began to suspect foul play by Google Maps. Why was it directing me in towards the factory and then back out again, when I could have just walked in a straight line across the car park? And – hang on a minute – the destination dot looks pretty close but…where exactly IS the ground?
As I approached the destination dot, further interrogation of the map revealed the extent of the problem.
Fucking great, Google. You’ve fucking excelled yourself this time. Fucking fuckers.
In desperation, I rang Paul and explained my predicament, hoping someone would drive over to rescue me. It was only 1405 after all. No such offer was forthcoming, although feedback from the woman on the turnstile was that I should have turned off down Rivacre Road. Which was basically all the way back down towards the station. For fuck’s sake.
I headed back the way I came – mercifully downhill, at least – fuming all the way. Fucking Google can fuck right off. And fuck Vauxhall Motors, too, having their fucking ground in the middle of fucking nowhere. Fuck them all. Fucking fuckers.
I was so fucking angry when I reached the junction with Rivacre Road that I decided to head back to the station and back into Liverpool to find some more pubs. There was no guarantee I’d even find the ground down that way, without Google Maps to guide me. I had come to rely on Google Maps at my peril. I had forgotten it sometimes throws curveballs (see Hebden Bridge). And today it could fuck right off.
Ship & Mitre
I needed my nu nu pub on landing back in Liverpool at 1530, so I headed straight here. I relied on muscle memory to get me here (because fuck Google Maps) and happily it soon appeared on the horizon. There is some tricky road crossing involved but I managed it without dying or causing any accidents.
I REALLY wanted (nay, NEEDED) the Beartown Cherry Paradox but, at 6.9%, I was a little afraid of it so early on in a crawl. I don’t mind strong beers as a nightcap but I don’t wish to be too lashed early on that I cannot continue drinking. I explained my predicament to the man behind the bar, who recommended the similar but lower ABV Fruitage. I accepted his recommendation and ordered a half of that, along with a half of the Irish Stout on cask. Both were good and went down very well.
One Pan Band (of that lush scouse I had last time fame) were on hols so this was today’s menu.
Hmm not a SlimmingWorld friendly menu. Also not sure I could justify another pie today. Besides, I was still angry and all I wanted right now was beer, beer and more beer. I ordered more beer. This time I went for the Cherry Paradox (of course I did) and the Plum Porter (very nice).
Finally defused and relaxed (despite missing a Chasetown win), I bade this magnificent pub farewell (for now) and yomped back across town to somewhere I’d passed earlier and was now calling me back, for reasons I shall explain below.
Hot Water Comedy Club
I listen to a weekly comedy podcast called Finding Funnies. It’s brilliant, always makes me laugh and I feel a connection with the hosts, fellow northerners Steve Royle (of Blackpool panto fame) and comedian Jamie Sutherland.
As I passed the comedy club earlier, I remembered that Jamie had posted on the socials about being here last night. I pinged him a message saying I’d just missed him but he replied saying he was back tonight. Dear reader, you know how I like to pick up friends on my travels, so I couldn’t miss this opportunity to meet with Jamie. Sadly I couldn’t hang around for the show (which was sold out anyway) so we arranged to meet for a pre gig drink at the venue.
I struggled to find the entrance on arrival, but was assisted by a friendly homeless man, who I gave a pound for his help. On entry, I asked the man at the counter if it was ok to come in just for a drink, but he wasn’t having any of it. I was compelled to name-drop Jamie, hoping that would open up an opportunity, and things began to look more hopeful. Then, as if by magic, Jamie arrived behind me and ushered me towards the bar and insisted on getting me a drink. I liked him already.
There was a drinks list on the wall but I couldn’t read it. I’m currently trialling various contact lenses – multifocals and distance only. Today I was wearing my distance only ones, as I was SUPPOSED to be going to the match and these lenses are good for football (and theatre and gigs). However, for close up stuff, I needed my reading glasses (acquired from Sarah in Donny, if you recall). My middle distance vision is somewhat questionable in these lenses and I was now finding out that I could not read the drinks list on the wall. Jamie (bless him) read the list of beers out to me and I settled on a pint of the Goose Island Midway IPA.
We took a seat in a booth and I relayed the story of my Google Maps drama. I was conscious that Jamie had a gig shortly but he was happy to chat away for what must have been half an hour (he can talk!). I was fascinated to learn about a podcast he and Steve used to do about following Toronto FC in the MLS. They deliberately chose a non-glory-seeking option but Toronto suddenly started doing really well – and they even went to watch them play. Presumably Toronto was easier to get to than Vauxhall Motors…
As Jamie darted off to perform downstairs, I still had an hour before my train home, so I headed next to a pub that WAS on my list, and that I had passed a couple of times already today.
The Dispensary
This is yet another Liverpool pub that has been on my favourites list. In fact, it was my first ever favourite. Here’s what was on the bar tonight.
I was struggling to read pump clips with my distance lenses, so I asked the barman to read the text on the Bitter Winter pump clip for me. After he had made the effort, I decided I’d better go for it, before taking a seat at the rear of the room, on a vacant table next to a group of lads.
I took to my phone, scrolling Twitter, where I saw that fellow pub blogger Simon was also in Liverpool. This was very exciting news, as I don’t see Si very often, as we’re usually exploring random places in different parts of the country. I messaged him immediately.
How exciting! I was loving the randomness that NOT planning today to the nth degree was affording. I downed my half and hot-footed it over there.
The Crown Hotel
Plum Porter, obvs.
I took a seat by the door and awaited Si’s arrival. When I saw him arrive, I shouted his name across the pub. I NEVER do this (indeed I didn’t think I was CAPABLE of shouting), but time was of the essence tonight. We barely had 15 minutes before I had to dart for my train.
It being the end of a bit of a sesh (in which I’d downed more than one of my beers) as well as a rushed rendezvous, details are a bit sketchy at this point. But I know (from a general all round good feeling) that it was lovely to see Si and my phone reminds me that I was impressed with the ceiling.
I darted off to catch my train and banged on some tunes via my AirPods to stop me falling asleep/passing out (not that it would have mattered if I had, Blackpool North being the end of the line). Back in Blackpool, I arrived at the bus stop at the same time as the bus (which NEVER happens) and I was home by 9pm. Which seemed very early. Perhaps I could have stayed later, after all. I’m just being ultra cautious with the trains at the moment, after some disasters pre-Christmas (see Birmingham).
It had been a belting day out – not without its drama – but, as I kept telling myself on my wasted Overpool yomp, ‘it’s all good material for the blog…’
Next Up: Preston Pubs.
Hi, Jane
Interesting report, as always
I believe the Liverpool festival in the crypt is the CAMRA Festival in the Catholic Cathedral, which isn’t the one in your photo (the RC cathedral looks like a wigwam, so locals say).
https://tckty.camra.org.uk/e/189/liverpool-beer-festival-2024
I stand corrected! Hope you’re well, Martin.
There’s a non-CAMRA fest in that church, though: https://www.slboc.com/events/bombed-out-church-beer-festival-4
You do realise that the itinerary you’ve posted seems to imply your intent to eat in virtually every pub you visit (is this wishful thinking?).
I was just flagging options where I COULD eat 😂
(I posted a comment earlier which may be in moderation on account of containing a URL). There *is* a beer festival in that church, but not a CAMRA one. Searching “Bombed Out Church Beer Festival” should get you the details.
Great blog!
We did a second Preston crawl at Christmas and a good day out it was as well – list below:
https://neilspubcrawls.wordpress.com/
That is a very tight itinerary! Did you have a beer in all of them? I need the walk between pubs (and food in one or two).
We have a half in each pub and these timings include the walk. I’m also a hard taskmaster!
For a more leisurely crawl, adjust timings accordingly….
Great crawl though. We went to Preston on a previous crawl about 10 years ago and things have impoved a LOT there.
That’s still a lot! I can just about manage 10 pubs, half in each, two full meals included. Yes it’s been over 10 years since I last drank in Preston. Looking forward to seeing what it’s like now.
I hope the toliets in the Philly smelt better than the last time I was in them. Grade one loos with grade 10 smells. 🙁
Yet another great blog – glad you found the Roscoe’s Head, defo my fave pub in Liverpool (so far)
If you are having problems finding a pub open before noon try one of Sir Timbo’s, plenty available in Liverpool, cheap beer, cheap food what more could you want?
I kept telling my kids when they were younger that it was unlucky to walk past a pub that was open. I think they even believed me for a while.