Liverpool is full of Scallies

I never thought I would utter the words " I've been to Liverpool".

Now I can.

I've been to Liverpool.

Every obsessed Beatles fan's wet dream is to stand in front of the tiny stage in the damp, dingy, smelly ol' Cavern Club. Yeah, I lived it. I got the pictures to prove it (which, of course, I am far too lazy to post). Although it isn't the true cavern club. It was partially demolished in the 70's and then was rebuilt using all original bricks. The archways are, as far as I know, true originals. They also moved it 15 meters up Mathews St. and a couple floors lower.

But it was still the Cavern Club. Lets not argue about this.

I spent 7 quid on a cheesy Beatles museum called "The Beatles Story". The most amazing thing they had, and it isn't THAT amazing-but kinda is- was George's first guitar. It looked like crap but man oh man, it was real. They also had the original collarless jackets the lads wore in the early days. I find it so hard to believe that every record company had declined to sign them. Sometimes I really love irony.

Then I went into the Beatles shop and bought stupid things like buttons and the like, but didn't spend hoards. I also visited the Tate Liverpool the night before (all this is located on the Albert Docks) and it was okay. I have a beef with modern art that may never be understood.

Back to the Beatles...after the hour and a half cheesiness, I headed off to Mathews St. otherwise known as "Beatles Street". This is where the Cavern Club is, The Cavern Pub, really bad Beatles memorial things, and The Grapes Pub. All of these places hold a special place in every Beatles fan's heart. When I laid eyes upon the cavern club, rounding the corner in the dark, dankness and sweaty place, my heart stopped. I was silent and nothing existed except me and this club. All the scallies were non existent. It was a moment of bliss between two lovers.

So after all my Beatles fun, I met up with me mate, Mark. His dad was kind enough to pick me up from Liverpool Central and take me to his home in Beddington on the Mersey side (which used to be called Lancashire- ignore spelling) We went to a real, English like pub for a night out with his two mates and little brother. Ironically, the real English pub had some guy singing Frank Sinatra tunes all night. It was a strange atmosphere but most enjoyable to get pissed in.

We headed back to his house and he was kind enough to let me sleep in his bed while he took to the floor. What a gentleman!! In the morning, I was going to head back to get my stuff from Marcin's place (Marcin is the CS guy that was kind enough to host me, but I feel bad that I ended up staying with Mark rather than him for the last night. He's polish, works for Ryan air-yikes- and was super nice although a bit strange and a loner.) Anyway...Mark's dad makes me breakfast and then they all offer to take me to a small town called Chester and to Penny Lane! What the hell? Why are these people so fucking nice? Their hospitality towards me was honestly amazing and I am beside myself and very grateful. We went to Chester which is a small town that has a medieval wall surrounding it along with ancient roman ruins. Then they bought me LUNCH!!!

And several Pints!!!

Then we watched Liverpool play Ebbington in a football match which was sorta boring.

I ATE MORE FOOD!!!

Got on the train and here I am in a hostel in Manchester. It's late, I'm tired. And I was in Liverpool.