'It's like your gran... turned into Beyoncé'

This is a big week for Liverpool and for libraries. After a three years closure, the Liverpool Central Library has reopened following a £55million PFI-funded refurb.

(They probably want their Borrowers back, too. We inherited a few for a while, but as will all things library-related, they have to be returned.)

As the Daily Mail said:

'It's like going to meet your gran and finding she's turned into Beyoncé'.

It is indeed a breathtaking building: like a high-tech Hogwarts it has layers of floating walkways hovering above a central area which spirals upwards to a quirky out-of-kilter dome. The old-world splendour of the Picton Reading Room and Horny Library sit surprisingly comfortably alongside the chrome, glass and on-trend big letters/bright colours.

It's a building that lends itself to being a library (see what I did there?) and a very beautiful place to be and I could quite happily live there.  Ooh, I have library envy.

They even have books.

But while the media response to what the Liverpool Echo calls the city's 'new cathedral of knowledge' has been rapturous, these are times of austerity, and the money to run it has to come from somewhere.

Three Liverpool libraries have been closed, 76 jobs lost and opening hours reduced to help fund the City Council's commitment to the landmark building agreed by the previous LibDem administration.


It's very automated too - a subject I'll be coming back to. There are computers everywhere and free wifi throughout but it'll be interesting to see how many actual staff there are and how the borrowers react to space-age borrowing.

But with so many libraries are closing (give yourself a scare by checking out this map) it's good to see that so much has been invested in a new one - may it shine like a beacon of hope across the land!

Talking of beacons, the reopening last night as part of Light Night, where the city's arty farty smarties compete to lure the public to be dazzled by late-night shenanagins.

I managed to miss most of it, except for this rather groovy kaleidescope of light projected onto the Oratory of the Anglican Cathedral. The patterns were made by shards of stained glass.

(And that's the second time this week I've been forced to use the word 'shard'. I'll have the Poetry Police after me at this rate.)

The 70's called - they want their Noddy back

Noddy Holder, the famous cow top and me

After a lengthy hiatus, I seem to be back in circulation. For the last few months (years?) I have talked myself out of various soirees, forays, sorties and shindigs, but this week I have raised my head over the parapet that is my own settee, not once but twice!

Last night I was invited to the opening of Tate Liverpool's new 'Glam' exhibition*. In my 'what will I wear?' frenzy I discovered that my white, gold-studded 'Elvis' pants now fit me (they never have before!) but, in a nod to middle age, eschewed them for something more demur... my cow top. The arty types of Merseyside had gathered to peruse Bowie memorabilia, stroke their chins at images of androgyny and generally mingle under the lights of the glitter ball. It was great to see some poetry chums of yore (oh alright, of mine) but the highlight was meeting the very personable Noddy Holder of Slade! Groovy!

This was hot on the heals of a return to the Dead Good Poets Society open floor the previous night. I was prompted by seeing the lovely mini-documentary in last week's Guardian travel section about Marcel Theroux writing and performing his first poem at the Dead Goods - it made me miss going there, and the people involved. Having said that, my new poem about dancing in the library (replete with tongue twisters and many actions required) was a DISAAAAAASTER darlings!

*Careful of that Tate link by the way - one of the three scrolling pictures on the front page is full frontal male nude! I didn't know where to put my face.

King Kenny with the comedy ears

So Kenny Dalglish is the new manager of Liverpool FC... (and they say I know nothing about football ...hah!).

Well I may know nothing about football but I've had my mitts on Sir Kenny! Here's myself and the plucky Scottish footie star at the auction for superlambananas towards the end of Liverpool's year as European Capital of Culture in 2008.

Obviously it was not me who took the picture - though I'm sure I could hardly have improved on the positioning of Kenny's head exactly between the ears of the Everton Superlambanana!

In fact, I believe I may have stumbled upon the Mayor of Liverpool (I was quite intoxicated and more than a little emotional that night - for reasons I won't go into here) and demanded he take the snap. So all credit to him.

... erm... there's also this picture of me and Jimmy Corkhill from Brookside, and Craig from the very first Big Brother.

The event was very swish, with bubbly and canapes and a series of trendy little tiny mini-meals -fish 'n' 3 chips, titchy burger, more bubby... I forget after that.... And it all took place in Liverpool's prestigious St George's Hall - which has a very famous floor (which I may have ended up on!).

And no, I didn't end up with a Superlambanana for Wirral.

But at least I tried.

Scaffold to China

You may have seen our new Prime Minister brown-nosing in China and so you must be wondering what - oh what - is Wirral doing to prop up Anglo-Chinese links?

I am happy to report that we have done our bit - we sent in The Scaffold.

No! Not this kind of scaffold, silly!

Nor the one on the right.

(I suspect the Chinese are quite capable of rustling up something like this themselves.)

No! I mean the popular beat combo from the 1960's - The Scaffold, who of course had a lot of Chinese influences...

Liverpool Lu

Gin Gan Gu Li

Lee Li the Pink

Fang Yu Very Much (for the Shanghai plastic)

Of the three members of the group, only Roger McGough has sodded off to London, and anyway he never lived in Wirral to my knowledge, but Mike McCartney (his kid brother was in another beat combo) and John Gorman both reside on the Wirral Peninsular, just across the River Mersey from Liverpool.

Do any of you remember them? I inherited most of their singles from the (much older *ahem*) daughter of some friends of my parents and was particularly delighted by a B side called 'I'd be the First'. It included lines like 'I'd be the first to climb Mount Eiger on a tiger' and suchlike, with the punchline 'But I'm 88, I'm 95 and I'm 103.' (I forget the exact ages, but you get the gist.)

There's more about Wirral Liverpool Day at Shanghai Expo here and there's a nice article in the Financial Times online (where else?) which describes the Scaffold as: "Three elderly men yoked together by happenstance, their home town and a rugby anthem."

It also has a couple of lovely quotes about what the Chinese response to Lily the Pink was, but my favourite was: "I liked those grandpas singing."

Click here for Thank U Very Much - The Very Best Of Scaffold

More pictures of scaffold in Shanghai here

The Liver Birds

No not those The Liver Birds - the 1970'2 sitcom by an up-and-coming Carla Lane.

(Not the Liver Bards, either - a new poetry open floor starting in Liverpool next month. ...I don't think all the poems have to be about liver.

The might even be a folk group in Merseyside called The Liver Beards. Not them either.)

These Liver Birds.

The symbol of the city of Liverpool (also the City Council and a certain football club), the 18 foot copper plate birds face opposite directions - one looking over the city, one over the Mersey estuary - from the top of the Liver Building at the Pier Head.

I live 'over the water' from Liverpool. Not as in New York or Ireland, but just across the river, so it's fantastic to see how well the city is doing since being European Capital of Culture in 2008 - there's a new since of energy and optimism. Swanky new developments like Liverpool One were built just before the credit crunch and are doing well - but those old birds are still keeping an eye on everyone...

Liver birds

We're held up by wires like
threads of giant spiders webs,
look down on cranes and construction sites
the dandruff dust on Pier Head,
the city struggling back to life,

bald headed businessmen,
in Matchbox cars, red stop, green go,
the tide coming and going in great gulps.
We love these new buildings – they are
mirrors where we preen ourselves.

We are gritty and ancient, wings
spread like rumours across the city.
We make a nest in history,
but two beats of a wing and we could fly
on thermals rising up from heated streets.

It's hard to perch so long, so still,
but we have a bird's eye view;
anywhere you see us, we see you –
across the city, the suburbs, the water,
every movement, everything you do.

(c) Clare Kirwan