Liverpool Travel Blog› entry 32 of 87 › view all entries
Allie took the day off writing up her thesis on shining lasers at RNA to take me to the coast beyond Liverpool to see the Anthony Gormley art work, Another Place. Dozens of statues of men, slightly smaller than life size, that is to say, about the same height as me, stand on little plinths in the sand. The tide covers the ones furthest out, and as the sand shifts, some of them are buried to their knees and some stand on their plinths in the ocean. And all of them, seaweed decked and barnacled, or still smooth bronze, stare out to see. It would be unbelievably poetic, an expression of all sorts of longings, of us as an Island Nation, if it wasn’t for… The seagull! You could still see poetry with the children, there would still be metaphor if all you had to ignore was the big wet
I might have mentioned that I grew up in
Then Allie and I decided that the best thing to do would not be to go back to her complicatedology thesis, but to go for a pub lunch. I parked the car at her house, where it would be safe and I didn’t have to move it, and we went to the (Hydes, possibly?) pub in the centre of Bury.
Bury. Not as bad as people make out.
So Matt and I decided to go out dancing, and he knew a place that last time he had gone had live music and was really good. And you can go straight out there on the Magic Bus.
The music was dreadful that night – it just went untz untz untz DAdaDAdaDada untz untz all night. But it was hilariously funny. We drank shots and laughed our heads off at the people who were taking it seriously. At one point the DJ just started making stuff up, we swear. Very, very funny.