I go there quite often. I think Egremont to New Brighton and then along to Moreton is the jewel in Merseyside's crown, but no one seems to realise it. Where on earth, in Britain anyway, can you stroll for mile after mile along clean beaches and tour a national monument fort built in the Napoleonic era?
What a fantastic lighthouse. How many ships' lookouts, over the decades, leaned forward in the prow to spot it; the first sign they would see as they crossed Mockbeggar Sands. It really has to be, for mariners and lovers of the sea, of the most romantic places on earth. I shall tag on a poem inspired by this walk. Carry on and there's mums and dads, kids fishing for crabs, people just strolling; sunbathing, watching the seabirds and swans. Keep going, mile after mile of clean esplanades and beaches. While you're doing all this watch the shipping from all over the world as it enters or leaves one of the greatest ports in the world.
Yet, as I have surmised before, ask your regular Liverpudlian when he was last there. He looks at you blankly. Oh well, let's just appreciate it.
A TALL SHIP
I saw a tall ship sailing by,
I wept inside, I knew not why,
The spirit of the wind should breathe,
To bring my broken heart to grieve,
For distant shores, a warmer clime,
A place where bougainvillea climb.
I saw a tall ship sailing by,
Its masts were waving to the sky,
And as a compass needle's drawn,
I felt my soul was being borne,
Across the seas, across the waves,
Where sailor men cross sailor graves.
I saw a tall ship sailing by,
It flew so fast the foam would fly,
And as it stood upon the beam,
I wished myself aboard to dream,
Upon the tall ship sailing by,
To seek a place where I might die.
