Slow Sunday

 

I AM HELD TOGETHER WITH STICKY TAPE AND STRING

Or so it seems to me.

Have you ever had one of those nights? You're so tired that it almost feels like it will be hard work both getting to sleep and staying awake. You put the light out early (which, for me nowadays, means any time before midnight...) and soon consciousness evaporates. Until the bladder determines otherwise.

So it says 5 something on the clock and I shufflestumble to the loo and back again and close the eyes that never really opened and... Nothing. Or rather something, which is worse than nothing. Something and nothing, anything but where you want to go. Treacherous mind, betraying the desire for more of the oblivion you are looking for. It rambles and roams and won't settle to a purpose.

I pick up my phone. Knowing this is rarely a sound tactic. But a game of sudoku may give that focus, may lead on to the nothing I want. My screen is set to grayscale at night for this purpose, in the hope of minimising the intrusive light. I play the game, I reach an end. The mind feels quieted. Yet still I lie there. Still no void. A squint at thee clock shows 6 something.

And then it doesn't. Sleep returns, but fools me. When I look at the clock the 6 has stood on it's head. 9? It can't be a 9. It is a nine. 6 to 9. 69. My mind leads me there but can't raise the merest hint of a smirk. Even my puerility is dormant. The brain is awake and not awake. The body has no urge to cooperate. The will towards full awakening has found itself mired in glutinous resistance.

And when I do finally find the will to push back the duvet, heave the legs over the edge, bring some semblance of uprightness to my being, it is with the greatest reluctance, with a heavy force of resistancee to overcome. And nothing feels right. I am a makeshift man.

It was one of those nights. It is going to be one of those days. Do not disturb.

The right move

 

BACK AGAIN

Last year we had a brief time in Southport, where I lived for 25 years, and I posted about the signs of decline I saw. Recently we returned. For 2 nights this time, with the opportunity to talk to people we knew, to look around the town a bit, and get a better picture of how things are going.

We were there for a funeral. A sad/happy occasion, but also one that gave a chance to talk to people about the changes that we could see. There was also time to go for dinner at the home of old friends, and to have one of the best Indian meals we've tasted. It helped that the weather was excellent all the time we were there.

Our hotel was on the Prom. (If you don't know the town, that's quite some distance from the beach!) Approaching our hotel the first shock was seeing that Southport Theatre had been demolished, only an empty site remaining. We later learned it had been gone for 3 or 4 years, and all plans to replace had as yet come to nothing. We also found out that the pier had been closed for several years as well. When we lived in Southport I can remember it being shut, and in a poor state for many years, but a major refurb got it back open, complete with it's own little tram line and a cafe/visitor centre at the far end. It had become a pleasant place for a walk.

On our first day we walked to our friends' place. 7pm on a perfect evening. Blue sky, cool breeze, in a seaside holiday town, passing one of the focal points for tourists. So where was everyone? It was almost completely deserted. That would never have been the case when this was still home for us. Lord Street (the main street) wasn't much better. It was pleasantly peaceful, but that's not a positive sign in a town that relies heavily on income from visitors.

The following day, after the funeral, we got talking to old colleagues, who confirmed that the town was getting quieter, and little seemed to be being done to change that. Although I did later see that work on the pier was ongoing now. More concerning is that Smedley Hydro, the office where we both used to work and the town's largest employer for more than 75 years, will close in 2030. We had heard about this, but it was still a surprise that nobody knew what future plans for the site would be, and that there seemed to be no great efforts being made to bring new employment in.

Yet Southport remains an attractive seaside town, with flowers prominent in the centre (see above).  And there were visible efforts to make the place look good, although some of that may have been motivated by the imminence of the Open at Birkdale.  And Liverpool is a thriving city, nly a short train ride away.  I could still imagine us living there.  But I'd miss the festivals too much.  And the hockey.  And the rugby...  Edinburgh it still is then.

Oh yes, that Indian.  Wonderful.  So if you ever are visiting Southport, and fancy a decent bit of spice, try Kalash.

The reality of the fiction

 

LUIGI'S COFFEE

In my previous post I talked about looking in Naples for sites linked to the TV crime drama series we'd been watching, Inspector Ricciardi. On the first night we wandered down to the coast, and saw several of the places we'd seen mention of.

The shot above isn't an exact match for that used in that post from a from last month, but it's roughly the same location. There were too many tourists about (including us!) to get the perfect copy. We also saw the Teatro di San Carlo, the opera house shown in the other photo used there. But we didn't go inside, and the exterior is not so photogenic. There were several other locations too, but there's just one I want to talk about.

I'm not sure if it was in every episode, but it was in most. The Gran Caffè Gambrinus was a regular meeting place for the Inspector and his colleagues and acquaintances. An elegant mid 19th century coffee house, which was frequented, on the screen, by the city's wealthier citizens. It's still very much there, still elegant, even if the clientele is often less so (including us!).

The interior is beautiful, the staff smartly dressed and attentive. It feels like a place where the prices wouldbe, should be, high. So it was a surprise to see how reasonable the dishes we selected for lunch were. I had the special salad, and it lived up to the name. Varied leaves, tuna, 2 different kinds of tomato, avocado, olives, sweetcorn, tuna, mozzarella. All for €13. ( Restaurant prices generally were surprisingly reasonable in such a tourist oriented city as Naples.) If there was a sting it was for the coffees - €6 for my decaf espresso, and a steep €8 for Barbara's macchiato. The Inspector was independently wealthy!

Yet entirely worth it for the experience. And a chat with our waiter about the impact Ricciardi had on the cafe itself, both in terms of the filming, and of the resultant surge in interest. We were glad we had gone, and grateful to the series, without which we might not have bothered.

TV dramas are unreliable guides to unfamiliar places. I've seen Edinburgh's geography abused too many times on screen not to be aware of that! But they can give clues to interesting spots to visit, provide backdrops that give the visitor a sense of familiarity when they arrive. Definitely better without the blackshirts though.