Over the gate...

Designed in 1913 by Victorian/Edwardian/other architect Theophilus A Allen; John Lennon's house between 1964 and 1968; sunroom, attic and prisco stripe hibernice; Mellotron and caravan; Babidji and Mimi; mortar and pestle; Wubbleyoo Dubbleyoo; curios and curiosity; remnants and residue; testimonials and traces; (Cavendish Avenue, Sunny Heights and Kinfauns); Montagu Square; mock Tudor: Brown House: *KENWOOD*.

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Friday, 11 March 2011

Liverpool: St Peter's Church field.


On this little trip to the "Pool of Swearing", I heard some virtuoso "material" from quite a few, including me, and a gentleman who had just been caught in a downpour, entering Ye Cracke as I was on my way out, and fairly unhappy about his new damp status; a genuinely inventive display.
Anyway, I wanted to accomplish a few things, if "accomplish" be the right word. The main one was do the tour of Mendips, of which more anon. Amongst the others, bobbing on the surface of the swimming pool, the largest was, probably, to get a photo of the location of the stage from the famous St Peter's Fete photos.
Now. I've seen one or two other "then and nows" of this location taken in the churchyard, and had grave doubts. (Oh dear.) Somehow, I couldn't quite picture the curate of the day, astride a tombstone, shouting "Hey kids! Let's do the show right here!"
So, not the graveyard then. But where, in that case? It turns out to have been the field beyond the graveyard, which is now a playground-come-sports-field for the local primary school.
Now. In this country, hanging around primary schools, camera in hand, when you have no children, is deeply frowned upon. So I had to be quick, and I couldn't get right up to it, due to the crowd of irate parents that quickly formed. Still, I managed to get the following; the clincher is the roof of the building behind, still there all these years later:


I feel compelled to point out that the red arrows (not, clearly, the RAF formation flying outfit - that would be ridiculous) are meant to be pointing to the corner of the field, and not the large yellow duck:


Having been savagely beaten by the mob, I escaped back into the graveyard, where I got a sidey-on view of the stage (or the location of the stage), just over the fence:



Lovely stuff. Lest there be any "doot", at no point was I savagely beaten during my stay in Liverpool, and I "fookin" love the place.
Doffing o' the cap to Mark and his mate Dave, who worked it out.

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