The Long And Winding Road - my Beatles journey with my Dad

I am now a very proud Beatles fan and joined my Dad in a life-changing trip around Liverpool Last September. But I wasn't always brave enough to share my Beatlemania with others.

I think Dad introduced me to the Beatles when I was 13. It was one of the Christmasses where I'd asked for stacks of CDs, one of which was the Beatles' 1 album which had come out that year.

Dad has always been a huge influence on my music tastes [Strawberry Field, Liverpool]

I forget why I'd asked for it never having been a Beatles Fan before. But it came from Dad.

My new CDs came upstairs to play in my discman on Christmas night (I was staying in Uncle Bob's room with my Mum) and listening to it from start to finish. And then I listened to it again and again , and again until eventually, I fell asleep.

Beatlemania quickly took hold [The Beatles Story, Liverpool]

It was a good Christmas.

Beatlemania quickly took hold and before I knew it I was 'borrowing' dad's CDs and started to become a bit obsessed. I kept most of these - sorry Dad, we can work it out!

My music tastes didn't exactly help me to fit in at school - I remember working on my maths coursework while getting to know The White Album [now up there with my favourite albums of all time] but was never really brave enough to discuss my fandom with my school peers.

A very beautiful, and very rare print of The White Album which I spotted at The Beatles Story museum in Liverpool

Knitting was weird enough to them (and I was a prolific knitter as a teenager) but 'old' music too? I'd never admit it. But I was desperate to express it somehow.

I found an outlet eventually, joining a band with some older kids from another school who were a bit more open-minded. We jammed out a bit to Beatles songs from time to time.
I couldn't keep up with the older kids and as is the way with teen bands, it didn't end well.

My teens were a tricky time anyway and to escape it all I seemed to develop a love for what I can only describe as 'all things psychadelic'.

I adore my amazing technicolour bedsheets which I comissioned and had made especially for me.

 I took up painting bold Andy Warhol inspired prints of celebrities and making bracelet after bracelet in colourful beads. I don't know what possessed me to take up oils though - the mixers I used meant the damn things never dried, and ended up in the bin!

I'd feathered my nest with this completely pointless box of acrylic yarn without noticing over the last few months - I don't even remember doing it!

For a few years, everything I owned just had to be electric blue or as brightly coloured as scientifically possible - it's a sensory comfort I still fall back on today (I only made this connection of colour to stress on a sensory therapy training course years later).

I was gutted to discover recently that the band don't voice themselves in movie Yellow Submarine though [The Beatles Story, Liverpool]

So in retrospect it's not at all surprising that around that time when I was introduced to the film Yellow Submarine, I was hooked!

Somewhat irrelevant - David Bowie with a very similar cutout of the animated Yellow Submairne Beatles (I just love this picture!)

I'm still bonkers about it today although, having shown it to the fella, he's convinced that the film is too 'off it's tits', and could be considered terrifying to small children.

I don't agree.

The Blue Meanies in Yellow Submarine [The Beatles Story, Liverpool]

Having bagsied first class seat from Euston, Dad and I enjoyed a 'festive' journey and were three sheets to the wind (at least!) when we arrived in Liverpool.

We soaked up some of the booze with a Wetherspoons fry-up and dragged our luggage to The Hard Day's Night Hotel. We had arrived.

The print in our room showed Brian Epstein with George Harrison

We parked our bums just long enough for a cup of tea and then headed out on the town for a bit of a wander, starting with the very famous Matthew Street.

 

We stopped for a pint at a pub called The Grapes where this very early, very famous photo of the boys was taken. Then we stuck our head around the door at a few of the shops...

Each and every store along Matthew Street is stuffed from floor to ceiling with an ecclectic mix of Beatles collectibles

....before finishing up at Albert Docks at dusk for a bit of a stroll. It was a really beautiful evening.

We'd timed it well though, having walked straight into museum The Beatles Story, which had an hour until closing. We figured we'd make the most of the day and end the afternoon there.

It was an excellent museum with some increcible exhibits for fans - do go if you can!

There were some incredible sights in the museum including John Lennon's glasses [bent from an argument with Yoko when he'd slung them into a bin in a rage] and a bizarre banned album cover which shows band members covered in slabs of meat and plastic body parts.

If you have a copy somewhere, it's worth a fortune. Also, yuk.

The museum does seem to cover the very early and very late period in the band's career with a disappointing 20 years [or so it seemed] skipped in the middle.

It did have an excellent, excellent gift shop though.

Albert Docks looked particularly stunning at sunset.

The next morning, The Magical Mystery Tour was waiting to take us away! 

We were driven around Liverpool for two hours by a very charismatic northern guide and enjoyed stopping at fascinating Beatley sights, including Penny Lane, Strawberry Field (did you know this was a children's home?!) and the band members' childhood homes.

Nearing the end of the tour, we got off the bus and walked up the road on an unseasonably warm day for that part of Liverpool, for that time of year. 

We had stopped at John Lennon's house.

I couldn't really put my finger on it but it moved me to stand there.

I think it was thinking about his mother who after a long absence in his life, had died in a car accident nearby. Julia is one of my favourite songs and was written in her memory after she'd passed away.

That pretty much ended the tour - we drove back, grabbed a bite and jumped on the famous Mersey ferry.

We boarded the ferry just next to the Liver Buildings - see the bird on top? Hence the term, 'Liver Bird'!

Before we'd even boarded what was set to be a very placid and relaxing boat ride, just outside waiting were this colourful array of dancers - some of hundreds of people crowding the banks of the Mersey celebrating a Hindu festival with drums and festivities.

All 800 boarded the ferry with us, drums in hand. It was a noisy roiund trip!

After our very noisy ferry ride chatting to friendly locals (which was all very enjoyable, I might add), we headed back to the hotel and got ready for an evening at the famous Cavern Club.

Situated entirely below ground, it takes three flights of stairs just to get in!

It's not the famous early Beatles venue as you might think - it's actually a replicated version which is slightly larger [and safer] situated across the road from the original club which was great, great fun. We didn't just 'go', we had tickets to see the resident Beatles tribute band who were EXCELLENT!

You'd never tell, but the George is actually a stand-in. The first time I'd ever seen a stand-in imitation George and he was awesome! We decided that Paul looked a lot like my Dad's brother, Edd - but that won't mean a lot to you (although for us, slightly distracting!).

 

It was just so much fun - I sang my heart out and danced around like a crazy person, and although you could tell that the hardcore Beatles fans like us were not the majority (lots of tourists, I suppose), the atomsphere was full of energy.

The band even get the mannerisms of each band member down to a tee - they're total pro's!

Whilst we'd been out seeing the sights during the day, Matthew Street had started drinking heavily from about 3pm with their rollers still in (I always thought this was a northern myth!) so you can imagine what it was like out there when our show finished (and I was gutted when it was - it was soooo good!).

I scurried back to the hotel room and left my Dad went to buy himself some chips and take in the atmosphere (rather he than I!). I'm glad I did though because we had an early train the next morning and still wanted to take a trip to Crosby Beach. I'd never heard of the place - it was Dad's idea.

When we both woke up bleary-eyed on Sunday morning I could tell we were both feeling reluctant, but we made a train and hiked it to the beach. I have to tell you, I was completely awe struck the moment I laid eyes on the view over the grassy knolls.

Artist Anthony Gormley has created something I'd never before encountered, in this piece on Crosby Beach entitled Another Place.

100 unfeeling, corroded sculptures all stare directly out to sea (which, when the tide is out you can neither see nor hear, so the place is totally silent). All of the sculptures are identical, modelled on Gormely's own body.

Having rushed there first thing on a Sunday morning, there was no traffic noise, no fellow beach-goers, just the sound of ourselves and adistant hum of large machinery. It was quite frightening actually, but I am struggling to envoke exactly why.

If you walk out too far to sea, the sand becomes slicks of oil and pretty pink jellyfish.

I couldn't help but ask my 6-and-a-half foot father to stand amongst them although I think he probably thought I was mad. In trying to describe it? It almost felt as if we were sensorily deprived for the entire time we were there - almost as if we'd opted to seal off the vibrant colour, music and excitement of the previous two days with this eerie silence, cold and calm.

It was a surprising amount of activities to have fit into the three days and I do mean it when I say it was the trip of a lifetime - I couldn't bare for it to end. Coming home deeply depressing.

I think if anything ever happens to my life in London, I will be looking for flats in Liverpool, no question.

...I don't think Dad would need asking twice to come visit.