The weather is wet and windy again this morning... the forecasters seem to have even more trouble getting it right for this part of the UK as they do in northern Alberta.
On Sunday morning, I did board a train for Liverpool, all by myself. There was absolutely no resistance to me setting off on my own... and yes, I was very surprised. I suspect that Gail was starting to see the chinks in my good humour about it all, and decided to avoid the fight...
After paying my 3 lbs, 70 for the return trip, I took a place in a very clean and comfortable commuter train, not unlike the Toronto GO trains. In a little over 20 minutes I was standing on Water Street in Liverpool. After a brisk walk down towards the docks, I boarded a shuttle bus (free!) which took me and several thousand others to the Wellington Docks where the class A, or the large tall ships were berthed. Very high winds... almost unpleasant at times. I spent two hours at the dock, clambering onto a couple of the ships that looked most interesting, and then caught a shuttle bus back to city centre and the rail line. I will post a couple of photos when I have access to a computer that can handle it...
My father-in-law met me at Ainsdale station to take my cameras and a borrowed cellphone from me (so I didn't have to surrender them to British Open security team) and dropped me at the golf course. I wandered up the club house, flashing my guest-of-member pass, only to be told, politely, that I couldn't enter the clubhouse wearing jeans. Oh, bloody hell! I knew that. I really did know that, but I hadn't even considered it when I dressed for the trip to the docks. After convincing the club secretary to let slip through to use the payphone to call someone, anyone who could get me out of this, we stumbled across Gail and her mother. Gail, as only Gail can do, simply suggested that I go next door to the pro shop and buy a pair of pants. What I did buy was a pair of weather proof pants to use as a coverup... nearly everyone on an English golf course seems to have a pair. The fun part is that I ended up with a pair of Canadian designed and manufactured Sun Ice brand pants, which, factoring in the travel costs, have become the most expensive pair of Canadian pants I have ever owned.
The conclusion to the Open was very dramatic... suitable for such an event. I still must admit, however, that it is more exciting to watch golf on television unless you have some really riotous companions with you. The conclusion to the day provided the proper level of entertainment on all fronts.
Monday morning we boarded the train again and made our way to the Albert Dock and the Tate Gallery for the Gustav Klimt exhibit. The docks were the berth for the class B and class C of the tall ships. The Albert Dock is also home to a major Beatles exhibit... something I suspect the family has seen a number of times so they seemed quite blaise about it. My broadest of hints were ignored...
The Klimt exhibit did not disappoint, however I would have liked to have seen more of his portraiture. As it was, we saw a great deal of his design work, and that of his contemporaries, and got a good feeling for the history of the Viennese Secession movement that he had helped to found. Still, I expected more... but was not disappointed overall.
As we were leaving the docks, so were the tall ships in a formal 'parade of sail' as they started the race to Ireland, to Norway and then to the finish line at the Netherlands.
After lunch today we are headed to the Lakes... returning on Thursday. Portmerion on Friday and then, back to London Saturday evening... yes, they've changed plans on me again. Sunday we will watch Toni rowing on the Thames... Monday, who knows? And then Tuesday, I'll be on my way home...
No one has said anything directly to me, but I keep overhearing snatches of whispers about how little I am eating. I am actually eating nicely sized portions... I am fighting to eat nicely sized portions. And I am drinking the Ensures, at least two a day. Because I am walking quite a bit, I suspect that I am burning some of the calories that they think should be fattening me up... but the exercise feels good, and appropriate.
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