A poor and judgemental person's tour of Liverpool's Georgian Quarter

Edit:

A recent BBC One programme about Liverpool housing had an interesting section about the Liverpool Georgian Quarter, charting its height to its eventual decline as it became part of the inner city. Watch it on iPlayer from around 7.03 to about 10.49.

Back to the original post:

The below terrace is on Percy Street in Liverpool. It is on the same street as this 'terrace'.*

*Inverted commas because it is technically a terrace but doesn't have many of the characteristics I would usually associate with terraces. I live in a terrace for god's sake.

From the derelict top of Percy Street to the practically opulent bottom of Percy Street.

As this contrast blows my mind, I took a walk around Liverpool's Georgian quarter to try and learn a bit about it and just well, see it.

My first thoughts, even before I went to see this in the flesh (I was introduced to it by @Liverpool1207 on Twitter) was: what a waste. The houses in the streets around here, called the Georgian Quarter, are stunning. This block is abandoned to the point where there are plants growing out of them. Other blocks that are still in use have been bought by landlords and letting agents and chopped up into flats. From what I can see, lots of these ones are neglected. They must see a constant flow of tenants in and out and even with the most long term tenants in them, landlords trying to make a few quid out of letting are not interested in maintaining the character or history of their building are they? They just want to get the rent and make the minimum of repairs necessary.

My brother used to live in a flat at the top of a Georgian house in a nearby street. It had a wide front door with pillars and a grand (but run down) hallway. The stairs kept going up and up. There were multiple flats in there each with multiple rooms and tenants. I gasped at the potential grandeur of the place when I first visited, though of course, it wasn't grand, it was wrecked and carved up into lettable boxes.

As I walk along Percy Street, which is not particularly long, the houses are in better repair, have grander doors and look very posh inside. Indeed, even not on this particular street, but the streets around here, I have been stunned by the opulence I see when I look in the windows. They're the kind that are so posh they don't have nets or blinds, know what I mean? Some have shutters. They have busts on shelves and that. All of this fascinates me - the rich in amongst the poor - and it makes me all the more nostalgic and interested in the dilapidated houses. What's their story? Who used to live there? Similar to my last blog post about Croxteth Hall and its history, I love to think of the history behind these places and what they would have been like in their hey day, compared to now.

This was only the next block from the derelict block. Clearly divided into flats but still showing off some of its grander past in the doorway.

Particularly enjoyed the doorbell panel. Looked like a right numpty taking this photo!

A few doors further along I met this fella. I heard him before I saw him, meowing like mad. A man stuck his head out of a first floor window and told the cat he was coming to let him in. I tried to make friends with the cat as he pushed desperately at the door as if he was in the arctic tundra and desperate to get inside. He meowed at me, but was more interested in getting inside. I suppose he's learnt to be loud so his dad can hear him from the first floor.

The house for sale for mega money is just to the left of this. I didn't recognise it at the time or I would have taken a bad photo of it.

It was Christmas hence the wreath. It's taken me months to write this post.

Canning Street

At the end of Percy Street I turned left onto Canning Street. Peeking in the windows from a distance, these houses looked luxurious inside too. Some had shutters, some were closed up and no doubt some were flats, but they appeared to have some high class residents.

Now we move to a seemingly special place. On the corner of Hope Street and Canning, opposite the Cathedral is this 'terrace' gated off and with expensive looking cars. I can only look on and wonder about the inhabitants of this block. I shuffled off quickly before they called their butlers or whatever to come and move on the riff raff that was taking photos of their home and cars.

Down onto Upper Duke Street.

I tried to ogle into the hallway of this place on Upper Duke Street as that lady and man entered but I couldn't see anything. They had a key, so must live there. This doesn't fit with my mental image of the people that live there. If I saw this couple in the street, I would presume they lived in a semi in West Derby or Mossley Hill or somewhere. I am far too judgemental.

I moved onto Rodney Street. Now this is a famously high class street. It used to house the offices of doctors, solictors, accountants and other rich types. It still does house a lot of their offices, but there are also a lot of derelict buildings too. One thing cannot be doubted though, there are some very special doors on this street. I present to you:

Doors of Rodney Street

Holla at the foot scrapers and the extra large door numbers

Hmm, seems I didn't take as many photos of Rodney Street doors as I thought...

However, I have saved the best for last. Down a little side street, look at this beaut:

How do you get in?!

Croxteth Park

Or Croxteth Hall and Country Park as it is actually called.

I used to love Croxteth Park as a kid. I grew up a 10 minute drive away, went to school nearby and had friends and relatives that lived nearby. I spent a lot of time there as a kid, playing and walking the dog, and loved the history behind it. I didn't know much of the history behind it but I could see there was history there and was fascinated by the idea of it. 

I remember writing a letter to a Russian penpal for school and going on and on about Croxteth Park and how interesting it was (along with how I loved James Bond films and Bryan Adams...nope, I don't know what I was thinking either). This letter was then read out to the class as an example of how a letter should be...much sniggering ensued. It says something that I remember being laughed at for liking Bryan Adams and James Bond more than I remember actually liking Bryan Adams and James Bond. 

We didn't have any money and the park was a free place to go. (Sometimes they would have events on that they charged admission for and we couldn't gain access to the park without paying. On those occasions we were encouraged by my dad to go through the bushes and climb over the fence, though I don't remember ever actually doing it.)

One of the reasons for my amazement with the place may be that it is completely at odds with what's going on in the streets just outside its gates (which sometimes also crosses over into the park too). Y'know gangs, drugs, guns...(Rhys Jones was shot on the estate that used to be part of the park's grounds) and of course normal families just going about their day to day business.

As I've grown up and learned more about the world beyond that which my family introduced me to (which was not much as it turns out), and thanks to the internet, I've learnt more about the history of the park, the hall and its residents. I don't remember the details clearly enough and I'm sure someone will come along and tell me off for getting it wrong so I'll refer you elsewhere for the historical info.

What I do remember was that the Hall was the home of the Molyneux family, the Earls of Sefton. I was thinking there must be a story behind their name, as it doesn't sound English. I found out by accident they are actually Norman French. The last Earl was married to an American lady but when he died, there were no heirs so, despite the American lady hanging on a while, the hall and the grounds were passed to Liverpool City Council (or the Corpy as they were known then) in the 1970s, which actually seems quite recent for an aristocratic home. I wonder what happened to the nice American lady...

Anyway, on Boxing Day I revisited the park for the first time in years and years for a run interspersed with a lot of walking around the park with my mum and dad's dog while I was home for Christmas.

Bess, the German Shepherd who won't sit still for a photo and is quite a handful when trying to run with her on the lead.

Here it is, Croxteth Hall. Look at the grandeur of it.

The Hall, as I understand it, is partly derelict. I look through the windows and try to see what's going in those rooms. Some windows have shutters on the inside. Through some you can see bare brickwork inside, through some you can see bits of discarded office furniture etc, some are totally blocked off. You can look around the non derelict parts of the hall and I believe it looks very nice - though I have never been in! I presume we never went in as kids as you had to pay for it but as an adult, the £3.50 entrance fee seems extremely reasonable so I will save that for a treat one day.

This picture is someone else's (Liverpool Picture Book). But look at all those people. That is the Hall in its heyday, 1919. Not that long ago really. I got lost in a vortex of Liverpool history when looking for this photo.

This neglected door is below that grand staircase seen above. When I was a kid, this was the entrance to the toilets which were in the rooms with the round windows in the above photos. As it is now, I found myself examining the floor for discarded needles and other unsavoury things as I approached this neglected corner. 

I think this is the service entrance, it leads to a courtyard. I think this is one of the later added wings. As a kid, I used to imagine this was the servants entrance. I suppose it must have been.

Writing this blog I am getting quite annoyed with myself for how little I actually know about this place that I 'love' and am 'fascinated by'.

West/East/South/North wing...another side of this great building. I didn't have a compass on me.

Each side of this building has extremely nice doors.

This helpful plaque is at the West Derby Village entrance to the park. West Derby Village has its own interesting history that I only know bits about. Just round the corner there are stocks, as noted on here!

I should add that Croxteth Park isn't just about the Hall. I've spent a lot of time talking about somewhere I haven't actually been inside. I have, however, spent lots of time in the park itself which is full of history. The hall is surrounded by neat grassed areas, duck ponds, a meandering river, woods, farmland with horses and cattle, a working farm, a walled garden and likely more I haven't discovered. The woods have outbuildings that likely have their own stories, used for cold food stores, hunting, gardening etc.

It's such a great place that I need to spend more time exploring through an adult's eyes.

P.S. If you're reading around Christmas 2016, look out for Croxteth Hall interiors and exteriors on telly in The Witness for the Prosecution!

Mablethorpe - September 2016

We had a great weekend in a Mablethorpe caravan park in September. Our first stay in a caravan park, at least together and as adults.

I'm only just posting about it as it was ruined the very evening we got home by something happening that made me go on a massive anxiety bender for weeks. It was a bad 'un.

Mablethorpe beach was stunning. It was a shock to find such a gorgeous beach on the east coast of England - not least in a seaside resort like Mablethorpe, which I presumed must be as dirty and grim as I think Blackpool is. How wrong was I?

Special finds.

First full day, and this is what we were greeted with.

We went to Skegness. It wasn't as bad as I expected, even in the pouring down rain.

Lots of nice wildlife in our caravan park. Rabbits running around and everything.

The sun emerged for the following day on Mablethorpe beach.

It really is a glorious beach.

I took a walk around the caravan park as the map promised lots of nice lakes and interesting things. The best thing I found was a load of these very particular speed limit signs.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin