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Back from Liverpool

Had a thoroughly nice time in Liverpool with Jasna. The trains were a nightmare of course - Yes, why wouldn't people decide to do major works on the rails during Bank Holiday weekend when people are likely to travel- but I was well equipped with books.

Finished Hunting Unicorns which made me giggle, and A round-heeled woman which delighted me and made me misty-eyed once I had repressed mental images of my grandmother having sex. Read a few poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay, which are always a joy.

From Love is not all

It well may be that in a difficult hour,
pinned down by need and moaning for release
or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It may well be. I do not think I would.

For once on a Scouse-bound train journey I did not end up sitting next to anyone drunk or disorderly but got chatting to a cute young guy who made the thought of being stuck in Stafford much more bearable. He was battered from a rugby match and his knee was hurting him so I offered him some of the painkillers I had with me under the impression that they were Co-Codamol, although they were in fact my period pills. Still, seemed to do the trick.

Went to Matthew Street Music Festival, with Jasna. I must say my favourite thing about this event is the remarkably poor quality of the performers and happily Elvis Brettini (an Elvis impersonator) did not dissapoint me.

Celebrated the happy occasion by getting a pink plastic cowbay hat with lots of glitter on and some bunny ears (that flash and glow no less)- I am delighted. I considered teaming them up with my hot pink feather boa but I did not want to be tacky.

Jasna and I had a lovely time. I drank a little and ate way too much and we watched Magnolia on telly and laughed at people in the street.

Someone was asking me the other day about what I do for a job, and I told them and they said it sounded like hard work and what do I do to relax. So I said: I read trashy magazines and make judgemental pronouncements and it's true. I find both of those wonderfully relaxing. Snark is so soothing to the mind.

Jasna shares both of those passions - especially now that I have introduced her to the comic glory that is Heat magazine and while in Liverpool our favourite past time is pointing out particularly ugly children and clothes to one another (well, in between sprees of counting out the number of boarded up and burned houses on the bus route into town).

The other mutual love is assigning a co-efficient of uglyness to people (this is only to young people who are trying to look good and failing very miserably), and in Liverpool we are likely to never run out of material (like the bleached blonde in the denim skirt the size of a tea-towel whose boobs were falling out of her dramatically slit fuscia pink top). Or the one whose face was under a layer of makeup at least half an inch thick. You get the picture.

In fact you instantly know you're up North because suddenly all the women are going dressed around in tiny tops and tiny skirts and huge heels (no coats you note, no tights) and their clothes seem to be progressively tinier in direct defiance to the weather or possibly common sense.

Liverpool does have some lovely parts and buildings. However, these are situated mostly on the waterfront (perhaps to lull those coming across the Mersey into a false sense of security) and living in Liverpool itself you never see them.

You do see a lot of people in tracksuits though.

Coming back was a nightmare, the trains were crowded and running late with the result that I got stuck in some god forsaken piece of the country waiting for connecting rail services, and for the last leg of my journey was in the company of some rowdy Californian young who seem to view travel through Europe as a rite of passage.

They were pretty typical in being loud and a bit silly and hating England (I caught a few comments about how they neither expected the badness of the food nor the coldness of the weather). There is often a clean cutness to American colelge kids which I find irritating (by contrast to British students who are all scruffy looking).

Maybe I've been working with the depressed and the deprived and the despondent for too long, but something about the bright-eyed clean-scrubbed clean-living people irks me (whereas on the other hand people in Liverpool in thier own way delight me since they provide such good fodder for snarky ridicule). But anyway.

So the collegers were talking to one another about the expense and the coldness of England, (one sported a very dashing fluorescent pink *Jesus loves me* bracelet) and about what their parents do for a living and what they're going to go on and do after they graduate, and a couple were saying they wanted to go out there *in the real world and make a difference* while another was exponding on the fact *that he likes scars* and giving the inventory of his self-inflicted wounds to the girl, perhaps in some misguided attempt to impress her.

Christ Almighty.

They are amusing though.

And that brings my adventures up to date.


( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Aug. 31st, 2004 03:12 am (UTC)
shellsuit capital of the developed world
You do see a lot of people in tracksuits though

i had a fit the first time i got to liverpool and walked through the central bit. It's true.
Must get sketchy during electrical storms though, all that nylon
Aug. 31st, 2004 05:02 am (UTC)
Re: shellsuit capital of the developed world
i'm happy I can always rely on you to supply me with glorious mental images :D
Aug. 31st, 2004 03:28 am (UTC)
Railway bosses fear the wrath of inconvenienced commuters much more than that of mere visitors. Not that commuters give them any credit for it.
Aug. 31st, 2004 05:02 am (UTC)
You make a very sound and sensible point Mr. Hinton which I had not hitherto considered. :)
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )


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