Storm Doris really made this trip pretty damn damp, and I lost my umbrella. The first thing Laura pointed out to me was a giant white rat on top of a warehouse, and I still haven’t quite gotten images of the Scouser dress code out of my head. After just one day I totally fell for Liverpool, and got to spend 24 hours hanging out with my cake-loving nuclear physicist friend!
It’s ridiculously easy to plan a trip with Laura – we both love cake and anything with a dash of hipster. It doesn’t shock me that we spent half our day in the Baltic Triangle eating cake, playing golf and drinking gin.
Before I arrived, I booked us an afternoon punk tea at the Baltic Social. Think sliders, sausages, fries and retro sweetie cakes – not forgetting the obligatory teapot cocktail. Meanwhile, Laura was checking us into a slot at Ghetto Golf across the road – picture a massive warehouse with lots of neon graffiti and many, many golf clubs.
The afternoon punk tea was brilliant, and Laura kept reminding me how good the fries were with their seasoning (which I’ve completely forgotten the name of). I devoured the retro chocolate fudge cake on the top tier, and was loving the Jammie Dodger cake.
While the rain was off (thanks Doris), we walked towards the waterfront via Hobo Kiosk on Jamaica Street. It’s a bizarre basement shop with all kinds of vintage and retro wares. Back on the road and I was seeing street art everywhere, it’s like the perfect backstreet cityscape.
Liverpool has a weird number of stylish barber shops, and I was about to find out why. Scousers dress well, and they make a big deal of getting ready for a night out…fast forward several hours with a view from a greasy pizza joint where I was gobsmacked at the tipsy runway on the road outside.
But first, we squeezed in a little bit of culture at the Museum of Liverpool. It’s a cool museum with loads going on; but my favourite thing to read about was the Liver Birds. The female bird looks out to sea and the male looks toward the city – if they ever come to face each other Liverpool will no longer exist, or so the story goes. I like it. I also loved the Barbie doll collection used to show the many styles and outfits of Liverpool girls. So. Much. Fun.
I’m ashamed to say that we went for more cake before golf. East Avenue Bakehouse might as well have had a table named ‘Laura and Eve’ because it was a spot on cake joint on Bold Street. We both had the hummingbird cake which was as wonderful as the giant pink wall around the corner.
Okay, we finally got around to playing that Ghetto Golf! It was so much fun, I highly recommend. Although, assuming you start drinking around half an hour before you start, I reckon you’ll be tipsy by round five or six. We were. You start the course in a caravan where the golf club administrator gives you a lecture about drunkenly hitting people with clubs, and then apologises for having to be so patronising in the the name of health and safety. She should probably have warned us about the flying golf balls instead though…there were a few of those.
We somehow ended up on Prosecco as we did our rounds, navigating boats, pinball machines, skate parks, a marijuana shed and a gross toilet. Laura even scored a hole in one! That did not make her performance at the next hole any less embarrassing however. Sorry Laura.
After several plates of cake and a few cocktails and Proseccos, we decided to skip dinner. Instead, we went to Camp and Furnace feeling massively underdressed (for a friggin’ warehouse!) and drank gin beneath strange, hypnotic fluffy clouds.
With good intentions to walk into the city centre, we hailed a cab and headed straight for the outdoor bar area near Bold Street for shisha and picnic benches – it was fun! Typically, we were joined by a stag party from where else than Edinburgh? They blended in well though, especially since we had spent a while considering how they definitely looked like Scousers with their nice clothes and well trimmed beards.
It was pouring when we left, just in time for a little bit of bar hopping before inevitably ending up in that pizza joint. It was a GOOD pizza – and half the price of Edinburgh’s classic Pizza Paradise! Amazing. Sitting there though, it was like a scene from a movie when they all emerged out of the darkness at once. The street outside turned into a fashion conveyor belt where everybody was competing to wear the most dazzling outfit, or the best suit. One girl astounded. She had a pair of half jeans half shorts – so one leg was a full length skinny jean, and the other leg was a denim hot pant – with a black bra only. In February. I love Edinburgh peeps for collectively deciding to wear coats on a night out. Thank you.
I don’t know how, because I was dead on my feet after pizza, but Laura steered us into some kind of tiki bar and ordered two zombies right away. I like to think I’m a zombie connoisseur (note it is my traditional birthday drink), so I was so upset when I tasted these weird rusty coloured cocktails. Laura wouldn’t even finish hers, and I made the regrettable decision to do it for her.
Cue the next morning trying desperately to buy paracetamol and ibruprofen on the classy Lark Lane before devouring an English breakfast in a cute brunch café.
It was brief, Liverpool, but I’ll be back.