Last weekend, Cunard’s Three Queens – the Queen Elizabeth, Queen Victoria and Queen Mary 2 – came to Liverpool to celebrate the 175th anniversary of the cruise line.
I had planned to document the whole fabulous affair with a post chock-full of photos showing just how beautiful this city is with my brand new camera. Of course – as you can probably guess, what with my life being a living sketch show and all – that isn’t going to be the case.
For a start, I missed the firework show. Both nights. And by ‘missed’ I mean, my fella and I lay in bed all weekend watching Game of Thrones promising ourselves ‘we’ll go in a sec’.
I hear it was fucking spectacular though.
Eventually, on the bank-holiday Monday, we ventured into town – bleary eyed and mumbling “Lannisters’ always pay their debts” repeatedly under our breaths. To be honest, the experience wasn’t dissimilar to entering the Hunger Games, with people swarming like ants ready to bludgeon anyone who crossed their paths to death with a selfie stick.
But, before we get to that, getting to town was a fucking ordeal in itself. As we were sat at the traffic lights we just saw smoke billowing off a bus in front of us. “Fuuuuuck me, that bus looks ropey”, my fella said. I nodded… until the bus pulled away and we realised that the smoke was actually coming from the bonnet of the car.
Somehow, like a proper superhero, he got us into town – despite having to turn the engine off every 30 seconds and let the car coast down the road as far as we could. As you can imagine, roundabouts were fun…
So we’d landed in town in one piece… and I was armed with my fancy new camera. So why didn’t I get any photos. Well actually I did; I got fucking hundreds of photos, actually – it’s just that they were of the back of people’s heads because, apparently, this sort of event coaxes all the 7 footers out of their giant’s cave.
In the end I accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to elbow my way to the front of this one, and contented myself with taking photos of the keen, keen people that flocked around me.
To be fair, it was a really good day. Too busy of course, as these things always are – and we had the nightmare of getting towed home later weighing on our minds, (that was a fucking laugh, by the way. I’m still peeling parts of my face off the windscreen) but you couldn’t beat the atmosphere.
If nothing else it just cemented the fact that Liverpool is still the best city in the world.
Your move, everywhere else.