Blue Moon's trip around the UK

Yes, the blog is back and with a tyically desperate title for the first post of the year. It’s my last night in Liverpool so I’ve been trying to think of a suitable Beatles song and this is the best I can do. Mind you, one of the finest in my view, but I never have been much of a fan of the Fab Four (it’s either this or Michelle in my view, and that’s not relevant at all). Not being a fan is a shame since quite a lot of Liverpool seems to depend on them for its income, or at least the environs of the marina, being as it is just a few minutes on an e-scooter (they’re quite the thing here) from the Beatles Experience, the Magical Mystery Tour, the Fab4 Cafe and the Fab4 Shop. At least I’ve not been tempted in to be ripped off.

That snapshot does the city a terrible disservice though, as it’s really only the ex-docks that are overrun with tourists, and there weren’t many of them over the winter. The rest of it is as fun as they say it is, and alongside the odd bit of boat maintenance I’ve enjoyed spending time getting to know it a bit. I’ve enjoyed the largest Christmas market ever (although disappointingly the stalls repeated themselves every 500 yards or so), some great meals out (some without the company of 11,000 party delegates) and sightseeing various cathedrals, museums, quirky shops and even know my way around Toxteth Tesco, which shows how full of suprises life can be.

In an attempt to justify the title, Blue Moon has felt very much at home here and I can feel a bit of harbour rot setting in. The marina is totally welcoming and I am going to miss my chatty neighbours (all genuine Scousers), especially the one with the unfeasibly large dog.

He has his own cabin at the back and apparently spends the evening playing with toys which he then tidies back into the cabin every night. Sunday nights he and his owner go up to the (very nicely refurbished this year) marina bar and have a swift half together. It’s very touching.

Sticking to my theme, I’ve also treated Blue Moon to everything money can buy. Or at least a nice new radio remote that means I don’t have to go downstairs at critical moments to speak to the VTS man, and the most thorough of jet-washes and polishes that means I can pull the keel up without waking the neighbours.

We even had a go (well, Simon the rigger did) at replacing the not-so-round-any-more halyard sheave with the help of one of those things they change lightbulbs in street lights with. No luck sadly, but worth it for the picture.

So, Tuesday morning at nine o’clock as the day begins/silently opening the lock gates/stepping outside she’ll be free…

…not to meet a man from the motor trade but to motor either to Fleetwood or Barrow-in-Furness, because there isn’t going to be any wind. All rather like Day One last year, except that instead of the familiar sight of the Isle of Wight and the Purbeck Hills I’ll be looking at Lytham and Preston and Morecambe and Lancaster. Which in a funny way will be a lot more fun, because I have never done that before, or at least not from seaward.

Whilst motoring I will try to think of something better to blog about than trying to shoehorn not much news into a song I now won’t be able to get out of my mind.

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A quick note to the casual reader (is there another kind?): there’s been a bit of a change of plan due to various long stories. I’m not going to finish the circumnavigation until next year, hence starting a month later than I should have done. This summer is mainly about pottering around bits of Scotland I missed, so if you were sticking with the blog in the hope that one day I would get around to some proper high latitudes seadogging, you will yet again be disappointed. If on the other hand you can face yet more inane musings on the odd things that can happen in small coastal towns and villages around the UK, you may in the end find something to tickle your fancy.

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