Yes, Hale gets two posts, cos I liked it, a lot. And it might give me another chance to slander Old Mudgie’s ancestral home of Widnes.
Leaving my NBSS 3 half of Bury St Edmunds finest I set off to explore the coast, and admire the statue of the Childe of Hale.
If he really was that big he’d have banged his head on the ceiling in those ancient ale houses.
Hale stands alone, between the light industry of Widnes and the John Lennon Airport, “above us only sky” and all that.
Ooh look, there goes Concorde again, as another band sang in the year Lennon died.
No, it’s not really Concorde.
Hale had a few nice holiday cottages, presumably let to families from Torremelinos here to see the Beatles museum and watch Rugby League.
I passed a few on the way to the Mersey.
Blimey, it’s really atmospheric, with a little lighthouse to steer boats delivering craft beer to Runcorn away from the rocks.
Now I’ve moved to Sheffield I’m even further from the sea, so this is a rare treat for a Fen boy, though it’s so flat it could be the Ouse.
Across the water lies the craft delights of the Wirral,
And as you round the corner you can see the majesty of the bridge to Runcorn.
And the only sound is birdsong. And you wonder why anyone would ever want to fly abroad when they’ve their own country to explore.