100 miles to liverpool

But in my dreams I see Liverpool in lights

dancing in the streets 'til the early morning light.

The tug boat on the Mersey joining in the Jamboree

well a man must have his dreams

even though his dreams might never come to be

I read somewhere recently that the first thousand miles of  England's motorway network were sketched out by official surveyors sometime around 1938 on a free map given away by Tit-Bits magazine using children's crayons. Having driven up and down several motorways recently, I can concur with this. I think some of the more recent additions to the network were also designed in this way.

Driving on the M25 is one of the most dismal experiences available, beaten only by the experience of driving the same motorway on a Friday. The M6 is beginning to develop a similar feeling of despondence when mentioned. Last Friday we drove down it - using the toll part for the first time ever -and we ended up in a traffic jam of epic proportions. Now, this was due to an accident but there must have been a fair few travellers feeling hard done-by whilst watching the free lanes whizzing by. A few of those other drivers must have felt not a little schadenfreude at seeing the queues and knowing that they had made the right choice in not bothering to pay the £5:90 toll. Still, the accident looked horrific and I can only imagine the horror for the families and services involved.

We were travelling back from Manchester where my newly married daughter and her husband are living now. Whilst there they had taken us to the British Music Experience in Liverpool. Now, this is similar to the one at the O2 but have an added attraction in having a hologram of Boy George singing Karma Chameleon every few minutes.  I know, you've probably stopped reading now to Google how to get tickets. Still, there are a few other excellent bits of memorabilia on show and I won't spoil it too much for you but you'll want to get there soon to see the piece of floorboard from the Hacienda club, no doubt. It looked like any old piece of 4x2 but, you know, get your kicks where you can.

All joking aside, standing in front of the glass case representing the late 60s/early 70s was actually really quite thrilling. Amongst the relics on show were Justin Haywood's sitar that he used on In Search Of The Lost Chord and Ian Anderson's acoustic guitar, flute and hand-written lyrics for Locomotive Breath. Both of these were part of my youth, so were definitely worth seeing. However, there in the top left hand corner was the very violin that Dave Swarbrick used on Liege and Lief. Now, excuse me, but the only thing at that moment that would have been even more exciting would have been the very Gibson Les Paul that Richard Thompson used on the same album. That wouldn't be possible because he sold it to John Martyn not long later (after deciding to start using a Fender Stratocaster) who subsequently had it stolen. Never mind, it's always fun to stare at artefacts that mean something to you in whatever small way.

If you've been to one of these 'Museums' then you may be aware that they are sponsored by Gibson/Epiphone, amongst others, and have a 'hands-on' section at the end where you can play different instruments. It's a nice thing really as it gives people a chance to fiddle with various instruments that they have seen and heard over the years that they may never get a chance to. I do find it a bit amusing that most of the artefacts on show are mostly Fenders: George Harrison's, Jimi Hendrix's and Buddy Holly's to name a few. However, the ones at the end are all Gibson Les Pauls etc, et al, still, it's the thought that counts. I was messing about with a Gibson acoustic for a few minutes whilst waiting for the others to catch up. I played a few finger-picked bars of Dark Road Blues (an old favourite of Dylan's I believe) oblivious to anything else going on. When I'd finished, a young chap employed by the BME was sitting on the next stool and said, "Oh nice - do you play banjo?" Now, I'm going to take that as a compliment on my frailing* skills, not as a negative comment on what the hell my fingers were doing and how it may have sounded!

After the museum we wandered into the centre of the City. I have never been to Liverpool before and I'm sure you're waiting for the obvious Beatles reference. And yes, we went along to the Cavern just to be complete tourists. Now, I'm not the Beatles greatest fan but I do appreciate them and what they did for modern culture. Everywhere you go in Liverpool there is a statue, picture or reference (or shop selling T-Shirts etc) to the Fabs, which I think is fair enough. The Cavern is obviously World famous and certainly plays on that. They have their own little industry going with memorabilia.

As we wandered down the stairs into the dark abyss we were welcomed by the strains of  The Jam's Going Underground by the resident entertainment. It seemed appropriate. It's pretty damned small, I must say. It's worth realising that the Beatles played there during their formative years and became huge fairly quickly. If you have some small part in such a global phenomenon, then you're going to capitalise on it.  After a pint of an ale "specially brewed for the Cavern" and a perusal of the several glass cases of tat memorabilia on sale, we had a singalong to Hey Jude (much to my daughter's chagrin) and wandered off into the good night. On the whole, it was a pleasant experience. It was very touristy and I don't have too much problem with that, to be honest.

We live in a country full of history both recent and past. The recent past - such as music - provides an endless amount of pleasure, of course. Liverpool has been for many people a place of pilgrimage. The Beatles were, of course, a major force in the music and culture of the second half of the Twentieth Century. They cast a pretty big shadow over the early part of this one too. There is a lot of money being made, for sure, in Liverpool due to the connection with the Fabs. However, despite the glitzy makeovers on the Waterfront and the memorabilia shops and the flashy streets with statues of John, Paul, George and Ringo on every corner, there is another story. There's the story of modern Britain where that tenuous connection is maybe the only way to earn a crust.

The labyrinthine streets in the Cavern Quarter where shabby pubs offer "beer at £1:60 a pint**" and every busker - no matter how out of tune - sings a Beatles song, or the pirated T-Shirt shops with out of date now mouse mats tell a story. The doorways of shops are beginning to fill up again (like the rest of the UK) with homeless people needing somewhere - anywhere - to sleep. The North has always been the first part of England to feel the pinch when hardship rains down. And it seems to be happening again. No, I know, it hasn't gone away, but I found it more noticeable last week there than over more recent months anywhere else. Maybe it was the story in the press that week about Eleanor Rigby's Bible  that detracted a little from the excitement of being there where it all seems to have started. I'm not sure but much of the history of pop seems to celebrate class - especially the Working Class.

The successful musicians that are celebrated in the British Music Experience and the (I hesitate to use the word) wealth of talented singers, songwriters, musicians and Svengalis on show - and celebrated - in Liverpool show a way out of poverty and dead-end lives. Sometimes mooching around in such places that celebrate these talents can also remind us that whilst we may have loved to have been that successful, maybe sometimes we would all like to align ourselves with the thoughts of those Working Class Dreamers who managed to make something of their lives beyond the 9 - 5.  These people travelled around the country constantly to simply do what they believed in: to entertain. Often, they believed that the World could be a better place.

I honestly have no problem in being simply a dreamer and a tourist and standing in front of glass cabinets reminding us of their life's work.

John Lennon (1940 - 80 )
Alan Hull (1945 -95)
Sandy Denny (1947 - 78)
Rory Gallagher (1948 - 95)
Bap Kennedy (1962 - 2016)
. . . amongst others . . .

100 miles more to Liverpool, 100 more miles to go

been down this road in sunshine and in snow

and it don't get any shorter

and the water under the bridge has got to flow.


* 'Frailing' is a technique associated with banjo playing: Martin Simpson is an expert.
** For obvious reasons there were only keg beers on offer - fizzy lagers etc.