In the 'Pool

In the Pool

“I never thought I’d see things change so much since I first sailed away as a kid. It’s true what they say: you can take the Boy out of Liverpool, but you’ll never take Liverpool out of the Man,”

“And then there was what me Da used to say, an’ his Dad afore him.”

“What’s that?”

“When my Da said ‘in the Pool’ he meant ‘in Liverpool’ – or more exactly, in the Town Centre. He wasn’t talkin’ about having webs between y’r toes, or learning to swim before you could walk. Nowadays, all y’ have to do is look at Birkpool, across the river: it used to be called Birkenhead. There was good farming country over there, and Cheshire cheese was famous! It was a large roughly square-shaped parcel o’ land we called the Wirral, with half a dozen towns what’s now crumbled and sunk into the Mersey Bay. The biggest of them was New Brighton. They wanted to save that and even tried renaming it Brightpool, but ten years later they had to admit defeat and move everyone out. It reminds me o’ the time we was all evacuated as kids because o’ the War. Hundreds of us ended up parcelled off to total strangers living in farms all over North Wales.”

“On our side of the river, Southpool used to be called Southport. One of the last businesses to move out was the Cruise Liner terminal. The port had a thriving goods trade as well, but they lost too much land to coastal erosion. Then the fishing moved further north to Blackpool and Fleetpool – yer Da’ll tell ya, that used to be called Fleetwood.”

The old pub where they sat, Ye Cracke, was barely the size of a typical terraced house and would have felt crowded to capacity with more than five or six drinkers. The ancient mariner was about to ask the young man if he was going to take notes, but the reporter spared his blushes by placing a mobile phone on the table between them and asking:

“Do you mind if I use my phone to record this interview?”

“That won’t be a problem! Let’s see, where to start … I’m guessing you’re too young to remember the Iron Men being installed?”

The blank stare on the young reporter’s face told its own story.

“On Crosby beach – as it was at the time – they were placed well above the usual high-water mark: now they’re three-quarters submerged for most of the day. People used to say Southport was “the seaside without the sea” because the tide went so far out y’ could hardly see the surf line from the main road.”

“Still, I have to say, it’s not been all bad. With the traffic disappearing from the river, we had the chance to develop a network of wind turbines without worrying about them being a hazard to shipping, or a risk of collisions in bad weather.”

“We also installed the tidal bore, where the river narrows around Runcorn and the current forces a faster flow.”

“Liverpool survived as a city, which many other places didn’t – and don’t forget we’ve still got “a cathedral to spare” as the song says, and also two top football teams – though it was touch-and-go with Everton’s new stadium so close to the river. I guess we can thank the Big Feller Upstairs that the builders were still working on it and managed to adapt the specs to allow for the climate changes being forced on us!”

“Other places further north weren’t so lucky. Look at Barrow-in-Furness, nowadays it’s the Isle of Barrow. Ulverston became Ulverpool, Lake Windermere’s now called Windersea and Whitehaven was renamed Whiteport.”

“As temperatures climb slowly but steadily and the polar caps melt away the sea levels are rising and the result is, most of the small islands off the coast of Scotland have now disappeared forever. The few that remain are just about big enough to build wind turbines on them, which is what’s happened in most cases. You could say, that was a bit of an unexpected bonus!”

“So where does this leave Liverpool?” At last the young reporter found his tongue.

The old salt sighed, and looked at his empty glass. Within seconds a fresh beer and a glass of navy rum appeared on the table.

“Did you know, the Gulf Stream still turns back on itself in the Mersey Bay? No, and why would you? They don’t teach useful stuff like that in schools no more! Any sailor will tell you, that’s why Liverpool has such mild winters compared with the rest o’ th’ UK!”

“Fact. This turnaround means, our wind turbines are at least twice as efficient as anyone else’s, and at no extra cost. Together with the land-based turbines and the tidal bore I mentioned we could very near power all o’ North England – and Wales, and Scotland! – without any assistance or interference from anyone else. Leave Liverpool to look after itself: we’ve had no real help from anyone, not for years! We won’t need any coal mining, no oil or gas imports, no fossil fuels at all, not even nuclear power stations and who knows what possible dangers they might bring”

“Then we’ve got all the good farming land, both for pasture and for crops. We can supply most of the country’s food needs: we did that once before when we kept the Port open throughout the War. We’ve even got our own salt mines in Cheshire, and all the docks we need to import and export whatever we produce throughout the rest o’ th’ world. Pure, untainted water for everyone to drink from the Welsh hills and a solid planned tree planting programme in large areas of National Trust forests to reduce carbon dioxide levels: I really think that just about trims every sail – or ticks all the boxes, if you prefer!”

“Birmingham, London, Southampton, Dover: who needs any of ‘em?”

“Fact. This is Liverpool, and we really CAN Walk Alone.”

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