Early Monday morning we caught a train to Liverpool. The 2-1/2 hour ride was uneventful except for this one man in our designated “quiet” car who was just waiting for people to slip-up. So when a man in front of us made a cell phone call to confirm an appointment, the self-appointed watchdog actually got up and walked over to the man to tell him it was a “quiet” car and that he was not allowed to talk on the phone. The man ignored him and finished up his conversation. Then a woman behind him used her cell phone and he told her the same thing. She, however, talked back to him and then he appealed to everyone around him to back him up. No one said a word. The woman finished her call and all was well after that.

Then when we got off the train at Liverpool, I was looking up at some Tate Liverpool posters and stepped right off a curb, falling right onto the pavement and breaking the fall with my wrist and my knee. A classy move. The only thing bruised was my ego, fortunately. But honestly, we were on the platform! Why would they put a curb in the middle of the platform?

Liverpool is not what I would call a very pretty city, but it is where the Beatles were from, which was our reason for going (although this was Gord's second visit). We did the Magical Mystery Tour, but the special magical mystery bus (pronounced “boose” up here) had broken down so we had to ride in a regular chartered coach. We saw where George Harrison was born, where Paul lived for part of his life, where John lived with his Aunt Mimi, and finally one of the eight homes Ringo lived in growing up. We saw Penny Lane, Strawberry Fields, and Mathew Street where the original Cavern Club was and where the new one is. In fact, we had a pint there and also one at the Cavern Pub. Neil, our tour guide, was very entertaining. He just happened to mention that he played John’s boyhood friend Pete Shotton in the 2000 NBC movie In His Life:The John Lennon Story. There was a Beatles trivia quiz and guess who got all of the answers? Well I knew one of them and someone knew another, but Gord got all of the obscure ones of course. He tried not to answer them all, but when nobody else raised their hand he did.

We stayed down in the Albert Dock area which was, obviously, right by the water. It was pretty isolated at night but we did find one restaurant that was open for dinner and it turned out to be very nice, as was the sunset earlier.

The city in general is a lot less crowded than London, that is until we did the Beatles Story on Tuesday. Located underneath our hotel, this is an exhibition giving the history of the Beatles, with audio guides, but there had to have been seven or eight school groups going through in the two hours we were there. Apparently the Beatles are on the school curriculum. And apparently all of the teachers forgot to tell the kids about museum etiquette because it was very difficult to hear the audio over the children talking and laughing.

So now I know a lot more about the Beatles.

We spent the afternoon at the Tate Liverpool which is also located at Albert Dock. Their collection is primarily twentieth century art, or at least that is what was on exhibit. I became even more familiar with the Turner Prize winners from the other day--Damien Hirst and Rachel Whiteread. Instead of cows, this time Hirst had a piece that was a pretty, mandala-type, symmetrical design that, upon closer inspection, was made up entirely of different butterfly wings stuck on a purple painted surface. They had some very nice sculpture, including a David Smith, as well as Dame Barbara Hepworth, Henry Moore, Jacob Epstein, Julio Gonzalez (who reminded me of David Smith), Brancusi, Giacometti, Degas's Little Dancer. There was an Andy Warhol room with several works, a room of bathers by Pierre Bonnard, Degas, Cezanne, Matisse, Picasso, Modigliani, a couple of Francis Bacons and Jackson Pollocks, a Whistler, a Rothko, Ellsworth Kelly, Frank Stella, and I'm sure I've left out more than half. There was also a small Bridget Riley exhibition. I don't know how she could paint her pieces without getting dizzy. I couldn't look at each piece very long so I can't imagine painting them. The movement in them was incredible.

It was fun but we were more than ready to get on the train and head home.

Happy birthday to two of my brothers, Mark (42) and John (60!). Heal well, Tom, from your heart surgery. Roz, you too. We're thinking of all of you with love.