Topic: Hard Day's Night / Liverpool
Bit of a tradition that me and the wife have a night out together at Xmas and wake up on Xmas Eve somewhere other than home.
The last four years have been Manchester and we benefit through my wife's hotels.com account - for every ten nights she spends away through work, we get one night free. So at this time of year we have around three nights guaranteed.
This year we chose Liverpool and the availability threw up Hard Day's Night and not Hope Street (my personal favourite).
I wanted to go in by train and subway it to Moorfields and walk across, but the hotel were giving a discount on parking at Liverpool One. So she drove and we did that new bridge across the Mersey (and the ship canal).
Pulled up on North John Street and was pleased to see the doorman approach and take the bags and hanging clothes and then across to the car park. Bit of shopping (monthly Nespresso pods) and back to the hotel.
Non-cheesy Beatles music playing in the lobby and up the beautiful sweeping staircase to floor 2. We were in room 209 (the Jimmie Nicol) room - and bang above the bed is a large picture of Jimmie and Richie making my schnoz look miniscule.
TV plays Hard Day's Night on rotation until you switch it off, and down to the bar we go.
They've got some ace photees of the lads and Epstein all over the place
Fucking £2.50 for a bag of crisps! One of those 'must be a mistake' that you can't be arsed to correct and a quick drink before dressing for dinner.
Across to Restaurant Bar and Grill where the extractor fan wasn't working and fug spilled across the tired central bar, hanging over you, perfectly matching the narky bar-tender's attitude.
Nice table for dinner and surrounded by families home for Xmas, and a young couple who didn't come off their phones for the whole meal.
I'd plotted a route of some bars and each and every one had that ten to one feeling at ten o' clock.
I spent more on handouts than alcohol and was saddened at the number of homeless people and soup kitchens dotted around. Chatted to many, stroked many dogs and learnt how easy it is to slip from the tightrope.
Back to the hotel for one of my Xmas presents and the chap in 210 announced his attendance for 6 hours, virtually non-stop. Screams, pleading, thwack-thwack and a diatribe fuelled by coke and Pfizer's little surprise discovery. Brass-neck with a brass was the performance and it was fucking relentless. I nearly put a score card under the door.
Between him and the bar lads lugging bottle bins up and down the streets, we got about two hours sleep and we decided to postpone my present.
Breakfast was as cold as my check-out demeanour. Found the doorman and pressed a ten into his palm for yesterday's help and fucked off scratching that hotel off the list.
Best bit of the trip was the cobweb blowing trip down to the pier head and a wander around the beautiful three graces.