The evening’s entertainment began with a young man (presumably a staff member going off duty) wheeling his bicycle out from the kitchen area, past our table, as we struggled to eat a luke-warm Sunday Roast.

And it’s not as if this was a back street McBurger place (not that it would have been excusable in any eatery). No, this was the first-floor restaurant in a much-hyped establishment on Liverpool’s Hope Street.

Luckily, things hotted up once we moved across the road from “The Pub” to “The Hall”.

Last night at the Philharmonic we and the other 1,600 or so members of the audience were treated to magical trip back in time. This was no mystery tour. We knew what to expect.

We just didn’t expect it to be so good!

Billed as a “stunning new note-for-note production” , it was precisely that.   The first half of the show was – as the title suggests – the Sgt Peppers album from start to finish.  And it was note for note.  And they did sound like the Beatles. Right down to the rolling crescendo in A Day in the Life.

Not only that; as they walked onto the stage, in the dimmed light and recreated smoky club atmosphere, and when they picked up their instruments, an involuntary chill of excitement spread through my body.  These guys looked like the Beatles too!  Not so much facially (apart from the John who I swear just has to be Julian’s love child!) but more in the way they walked and stood and in their attitude.

Right from the very first note, I was right back in the seventies.

There must be thousands of Beatles Tribute bands world wide.  One of my favourites was Californian band The Tearaways who appeared at last year’s Mathew Street Festival.  But these guys last night are as close to the real thing as you can get without a time machine.

Apparently all Liverpool lads (I’m yet to learn their real names), this was essentially their first gig together.  It was the first performance in a fourteen date tour that ends at the Lowry in Manchester on the 12th March.  And that, coincidentally, is the nearest to Liverpool of all the remaining venues.

What makes these guys so good is the fact they have taken the “tribute” aspect very seriously.  Many bands try to get it right and when they can’t, they put their own interpretation on the original music.  Back in the day, my own band did Beatles covers.  No way could I ever sound like John so I didn’t try.  My version of  “Twist and Shout” was very different.  Still shouted, yes, but very different.

Heck, even the original artists rehash their original releases.  I’m sure when Paul McCartney himself performed at the Philharmonic recently, his rendition of the older Beatles tracks had been brought both up-to-date and more in keeping with his ageing vocal chords.

But last night’s show was not about “up-to-date”.  It was about the Sgt Pepper’s era and beyond.

After the break, this John Paul George and Ringo combo gave us classics such as Blackbird, Baby you can Drive my Car, and a resounding finale that was Hey Jude.

In short they got it right. Right down to the authentic costumes, the right guitars (John’s Rickenbacker and Paul’s Hofner – albeit a right-handed version!), the right band members singing the right songs. The right attitude. They had a slightly uneasy stage presence, tempered by cheeky scouse cockiness – just like the early Beatles appearances – probably because this was their first gig. But that added, rather than detracted.

If I had to choose, I would say The John Lennon character was the most like his alter ego. Cleverly, he set his microphone too high – just like John did.  And when he sang you really did think you were listening to Lennon – right down to the chilling and prophetic whispered “shoot-me“s in Come Together.

I’m sure these four lads and their two backing musicians were nervous.  After all they where playing to a crowd who loved the Beatles and they were doing so on the Beatles home turf.  They needn’t have been.  For they pulled it off magnificently.

I just know we are going to see a lot more of The Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Show.!

UPDATE: Full credit to the performers in this show: Liverpool band Backbeat comprising Chris O’Neill (Paul), Paul McDonough (John), Gary Harmon (George) and Dave Reilly (Ringo)

Remember the good old fashioned farce?

Popularised back in the fifties and sixties by the likes of Brian Rix, farces were fast-moving sit-coms based upon ludicrous misunderstandings, improbable co-incidences, slapstick and innuendo, with the actors running in and out of slammed doors, often with their trousers around their ankles.

At their best they were very funny …and very silly.

In more recent years, the farce waned in popularity, giving way to more sophisticated comedy. Well now it’s back. With a door-slamming, trouser-dropping, innuendo-ridden vengeance.

Ray Cooney’s 1994 play Funny Money has been suitably scoused-up by director Leslie Lawton for a month-long run at the Royal Court Theatre in Liverpool.

It is very funny …and very silly.

This fast-moving play revolves around Danny (played by Neil Caple) and his “suddenly alcoholic” wife (Eithne Brown) and the way they react to Danny having found a briefcase containing two million pounds.

The ensuing chaos is magnificently orchestrated, with the entire cast bouncing off each other, both metaphorically and physically, with precision timing. Neil’s long time Brookside buddy Mark Moraghan and Royal Court regular Alan Stocks delivered some particularly side-splitting cameos.

Funny Money runs at the Royal Court until 27 February and with tickets costing from as little as £10 you won’t need a briefcase full of money to enjoy it. This is unmissable!

Don’t you just Love YouTube?!

Following my Mashed Potato Challenge with the Hairy Bikers, someone just reminded me of one of the first songs we (The Exectutioners) did back in the late sixties.

Predictably we were often booked as support band to the Undertakers – and at the Iron Door Club too.

This clip really takes me back.

A first look at the shots from my 20 minutes eighty metres in the air above Liverpool One.

The blue sky as I queued to board the Ferris Wheel disappeared under a veil of cloud the minute the pod door shut.  Still it was nice to see the city from a viewpoint that will disappear at the end of this month when the wheel comes down.

I would love to do another few flights, at different times f day and with better lighting conditions. Sadly, time, or playtime at least, is going to be scarce in the next week and a half.  If nothing else, I have these shots to document the fact the wheel was there and I was one of its passengers.

Other than a little tonal control, these are unedited images.  In a day or two I will replace them with the ‘finished’ versions, so please bookmark and call back.

Click here for my gallery of shots of the wheel at night.

Chris Birchall (The Hairy Photographer) is forever being mistaken for TV chef Dave Myres of The Hairy Bikers.  When the opportunity arose, one day last September, he visited one of the recipe fairs where they were filming for the 2010 series “Mums Know Best”.

The Hairy Bikers threw down the gauntlet oven glove and bade him to come forth and take part in the Mashed Potato Challenge.  So he did  …and came fifth!

Mashing implements at ten paces.  Let the challenge begin…
(This episode of Mums Know Best was filmed in Skipton, West Yorkshire and was shown on BBC2 on January 19th 2010.)

Click to view full size

The scenery was nicely painted.

Hey… maybe I should quit now while I’m ahead. End on a positive note, as it were? Just go to bed.

But I can’t. The sound of Theatr Clwyd’s Rock ‘n Roll Panto is still ringing grating in my head.

They tried their best.

Well actually… No. They didn’t.

It was as if they had given up.  Just going through the motions.  It was as if they’d resigned themselves to the fact it might have been a half decent production if only the musical director had been a little bit musical and the sound engineer knew how to engineer sound. It was as if they thought ‘what the hell, it’s panto – you can get away with murder’

No!  Come on you people!  This was the annual Rock ‘n Roll Panto.  And we were looking forward to it!

It’s not that they were ‘bad’ singers.  Just that they were not that good.  Actually… there were some bad singers:  Robin Hood…  Meatloaf you ain’t!

It’s not that they were ‘bad’ musicians.  They were… erm… reasonably competent musicians.  Individually.  But that was it!  They stood on stage, eyes fixed upon their fretting hand, playing their guitars.  They were not… ‘together‘.  There was no hint of the passion that is a prerequisite of performing Rock and Roll.

It was messy.  They just didn’t gel.

The sound really was awful.  There was no ‘wall of sound’ – just several bricks that happened to emanating sound.  At the same time.  Almost.

Their only saving grace was the finale.  Had these boys and girls put as much energy and enthusiasm into the whole show, much of the rest of their failings may well have been forgiven.

During the speaking parts they where not amplified at all (even though some were wearing cheek mics).  Did I say speaking parts?  I meant shouting parts.

And the singing… Well what can I say?  When someone has a screechy piercing voice, max treble and no bass is not the way to ‘EQ’.

Choreography?  What choreography? I’ve seen more synchronicity in a primary school play!

Even the writers got it wrong.  This script didn’t know whether its audience was under ten or over twenty (let’s face it ‘teenagers’ wouldn’t be seen dead at a pantomime anyway!)  So the writers erred on the side of safety – and got it all wrong.  A Rock ‘n Roll Panto should have a mix of slapstick and innuendo.  By innuendo, I mean the sort of double entendre that can go straight over the heads of the adults whilst the youngsters get the (dirty) joke.  And yes – I did phrase that the right way around!

Was it funny?  Not really.

“We’ve got the latest games” …he places a cardboard box on the floor and stamps on it… “It’s an X-Box” If I tell you that was the second funniest line of the whole show you get my meaning.  The funniest line was when he then placed one foot on the flattened cardboard, spun around and declared: “It’s an X-Box 360″.

Yes,  I visibly cringed.

Since returning home I found myself thinking: “Is it me?  Have I set too high a standard after watching last week’s excellent Rock ‘n Roll Panto at the Everyman?  Is it because I have seen so many top notch comedies and musicals in Liverpool during the course of 2009?

Sadly, the answer is no.  The previous three Theatr Clwyd R&R Pantos were excellent, completely overshadowing tonight’s meagre offering.  Even sadder is the fact it was produced by much the same team.

So you will not be surprised that I cannot bring myself to recommend it or even suggest you give it the benefit of the doubt.

3/10 .

Must do better next year.

When you’ve had your fill of nativities and carol services, get yourself down to Liverpool’s Royal Court Theatre for the finest antidote known to man – Scouse Humour.

Merry Ding Dong is playwrite Fred Lawless’s Christmas Story about two warring families whose neighbouring houses in Speak are painted, respectively, Red and Blue

Are you beginning to get the picture?

And there is a touch of poetic irony in the fact that whilst the actors playing the feuding fathers are Merseyside football fans,  Evertonian Jake Abraham  has been cast as Noel the big Liverpool FC supporter, whilst Stephen Aintree who plays the ‘Red’ Chris has the exact opposite allegiance in real life!  On stage they were very convincing in their new colours and kept us in stitches thoughout.

The story revolves around life-long friends Chris and Noel who fell out during a holiday both families spent at Talacre in North Wales. The actual reason behind the falling out is not revealed until late on in the play.  I won’t spoil it for you, but if you are a football fan you will really appreciate the audience reaction when it happens!

I must say the entire cast displayed a remarkably proficient level of musical ability.  Royal Court regulars Eithne Brown and Lindzi Germain were spot on as usual, whilst Stephen Fletcher and Rachael Rae (who played the neighbouring teenage lovers) where quite outstanding at times.  Stephen turned out a remarkable Elvis impersonation with his comedic version of “Blue Blue Christmas” and the diminutive Rachel belted out a parody of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ that would have got her through to Simon Cowel’s final two with no problem at all.

This musical comedy is festively awash with dozens of Christmas songs, both traditional and modern.  Although I have to say any of the songwriters who have graves to turn in would be spinning like tops if they heard what has been done to their lyrics.  Very very funny.  And totally irreverent!

Speaking of reverence, the part of the vicar was played by Alan Stocks.  And he gave us one of the funniest, and at the same time most convincing, stage performances of a drunk that I have ever seen.

He too had a good singing voice.  It was one you would definitely describe as baritone bordering on soprano.   It was some surprise, therefore, when he appeared descending in a helicopter to the opening bars of  “Walking in the Air”.  The whole theatre erupted as he consumed the contents a helium balloon to perform the number, note perfect, as a tenor bordering on falsetto!

How the cast kept straight faces defeats me, for they obviously enjoyed performing as much as the audience enjoyed watching.  I wasn’t the only one in that packed Wednesday night house wiping tears of laughter off my cheeks.

A standing ovation brought these seven talented actors back out to perform one last hilarious number as a curtain call – and we were all on our feet joining in.

Merry Ding Dong runs until January 23rd.  We’re going to see it again – and you really shouldn’t miss it!

You can also read my review on the Liverpool Daily Post website

Can you remember what you were doing 29 years ago today?

I can.  It was my day off. I dragged myself out of bed mid morning, turned the kettle on and then the radio.

The kettle boiled dry.

Shocked by the news, I never got my morning cuppa.  I sat all day, stunned,  as a crackly medium wave Radio City struggled to reach over the Welsh mountains. They played Beatles tracks all day back-to-back.

John Lennon had been shot.

The following day I was back at work for the Evening Leader newspaper.  Myself and feature-writer Carol James were the only newspaper people John’s ex wife Cynthia would talk to at that sad time. We interviewed and photographed her at her home in Castle Street, Ruthin, whilst the photographers from the Nationals were dropping mind-blowingly huge cheques through her letterbox desperate for exclusive pictures and an interview.  She tore them all up.

We got through the door because we were journos she could trust to be sensitive and not sensationalise how she felt about John’s death, having previously done a feature about her charity work a few months earlier and prior to that a promotinal peice about her book A Twist of Lennon.

For me, the whole thing was made far more poignant since I’d been part of the 60s/70s music scene myself.

My band, The Executioners, had graduated from the local village hall dances, through the Chester and Deeside working-mens clubs, to earn our place on the Mersey Beat scene. We played the Cavern, The Iron Door, Tower Ballroom New Brighton and many other Merseyside Clubs, alongside the likes of the Searchers, The Big Three, Freddie Starr and the Midnighters, The Black Abbots, and the Undertakers.

Sadly, we were never on the same bill as The Beatles, so I never got to meet John Lennon.

It was spooky when some time later, I photographed Julian Lennon as a young man because at that time he was just like his father during the Cavern years.

Today, 29 years after his untimely death, John’s music is as fresh and meaningful as back then. It will live on forever. But I often wonder what he would be doing now had December 8th 1980 never happened.

The Wheel

The Ferris Wheel, lighting up the night sky and reflected in the windows of the restaurants on the park above Liverpool One.

(Hit F11 to view Full Screen)

Cynics might suggest my main reason for being at Liverpool’s Royal Court Theatre last night was to ogle Suzanne Collins’ long slender legs.

Well that’s because they only think they know me.  I am of course, ever appreciative of a shapely pair of pins, but I’m also a sucker for a good serving of raucous scouse comedy.

And that was my main reason for attending the second-night performance of  Drew Quaile’s The Salon.  Two and a half hours of having the lovely Suzanne cavort in a very short beautician’s tunic just a few feet from my seat in the stalls, was just an added bonus.

On all counts, the evening definitely did not disappoint.

An hour before curtain-up, Jayne and I enjoyed an excellent meal served at our table in the Royal Court’s unique “cabaret-style” stalls.  Good honest simple fayre, beautifully prepared and presented. Fantastic quality, especially when you consider they serve 150 meals in forty-five minutes! A nicely chilled bottle of rosé from the theatre bar was the perfect accompaniment.

Then within seconds of the lights going down there was non-stop laughter throughout the entire performance.

Set in the “Curl Up and Dye” salon, the play give a hilarious insight to the entwined love lives (and the lack thereof) of the hairdressers, beautician, and their customers  and revolves around the break-up of the salon’s two gay owners.

Other than that, there was no real story-line as such.  But then, none was needed.  In fact there was no room for one.  Quail’s script was bursting with humour and innuendo.  And under the genius direction of Bob Eaton, the cast delivered some of the funniest performances I have seen.

Lynne Fitzgerald was hilarious as the scissor-happy brazen hussy and Roy Brandon’s portrayal of an hysterical love-forsaken queen was a magnificent combination of drama and slapstick.

And the acting in late-night drunken scene was so convincing, I actually found myself worrying that the actors might end up falling off the cleverly constructed elevated stage that was the apartment above the salon.

Can I recommend it?  Absolutely!

If anybody can find fault with this terrific comedy, they’d be splitting hairs.  Go and see it for yourself and I promise you, it’s your sides that’ll be splitting!

The Salon’s month-long run at the Royal Court Theatre, Liverpool, ends November 28th

The band struck up. The curtain rose. The dancers were up and singing.

I couldn’t help noticing that the youngest were around twelve. And during that first energetic number I surmised that this would be a very different production from the raucous comedies we are used to seeing at Liverpool’s Royal Court Theatre.

After the first number, Royal Court Regular Andrew Scofield (remember Scully in Boys from the Black Stuff?) entered stage right. Drew is normally cast as the archetype scouse scally who gets withdrawal symptoms if he goes more than two sentences without uttering the “F” word.

In this first scene he played an extremely short-sighted lolly-pop man on the school crossing and having suffered a tirade of abuse from the “remedial” class teenagers he was heard to shout “and you can Eff-off and all”.  That, I imagined, would be to limit of the swearing on this show.

Woohoo! How wrong can you be?!

Our Day Out is a bang-up-to-date rewrite of Willy Russell’s original comedy.

Now a full blown musical, it tells of a school trip to Wales for the remedial class of a Liverpool School – and the great playwrite acknowledges in his script that the “Queen’s English” has very little to do with the vocabulary of today’s teens.

Andrew Schofield was, as ever, brilliant – both as the half wit school crossing man in the opening scene and as the staid, establishment, strait-laced, teacher who “invited” himself on the school trip to the horror of the pupils and of the progressive class teachers who’d organised it.

In these roles, Gillian Hardie and Bradley Clarkson were truly great. And you could be excused for imagining that Holly Quin Ankrah was chosen for her role as the young student teacher purely because of the way she filled out that orange swimsuit in the beach scene. But her singing, dancing and acting prowess demonstrated exactly why she quickly progressed from her five years on Grange Hill to the principle role in Rock Rivals and more recently as Geena in Shameless.

Michael Starke too (Brookside, The Royal and Jerry Morton in Corrie) exhibited perfect comedic timing, a really good singing voice and surprising light-footedness as the cheerful chubby bus driver.

My standing ovation last night, however, was for the extremely talented young actors and dancers who played the errant schoolies. I’ve always felt the Royal Court’s success stems from casting “to type”. That is why Drew is such a favourite. Hire a scouser to play a scouser. These scouse kids certainly came up with the goods. So believable they were as the characters they portrayed.

Their energy and exuberance was matched only by the professionalism of their performance. Their singing and acting voices were as good as you would find on any stage in Britain – including the West End.

And I was struck by the irony of the task facing the choreographers and stage directors.  They had to discipline a couple of dozen energetic hormonal teenagers into successfully portraying a couple of dozen wayward and unruly hormonal teenagers. Type-casting? No. This was the result of such hard work executed with the enthusiasm and energy of youth. Flawless performances that left you laughing and crying and wanting to be that young again yourself.

I’m so glad I am not a professional reviewer. For I’d feel I had to tell you to look out for the exceptional singing and dancing talents of young Rebecca Cumings, or Chris Mason’s accurate portrayal of a love-struck Jack-the-Lad, or…

In truth, every single one of those talented youngsters delivered fantastic performances and fully deserved the standing ovation they received from a Tuesday night packed house.

I can fully recommend you go and see Our Day Out. The youngsters, the cast, the musicians, the production team and the most warm and welcoming venue that Liverpool has to offer, truly do justice to the unrivalled observational humour of Willy Russell.

Our Day Out will be Your Night Out to Remember. You’ve got until October 17th to catch the bus.  Whatever else you do – don’t miss it!

Read a shortened version of this along with other reviews on the Liverpool Echo Website: http://tinyurl.com/willyrussell

The set for the “The Flags” is impressive.  Almost as imaginative as the grassy knoll created for the indoor outdoor pop festival “Eight Miles High” last summer.  Over ten tons of sand was shipped up from Cornwall to construct the beach scene for the Royal Court Theatre’s current presentation.

That, unfortunately, is where the comparison ends.

Certainly for the first forty minutes of the show, the red flags were definitely flying. Prophetically so. That beach was a definite no-go area!

The last five minutes of the first half were rescued – just – by the talented and likable Andrew Schofield as he and his “lifeguard” partner bungled an attempt to resuscitate the woman they had just dragged from the sea only to jump for joy as the “kiss of life” practice dummy they had brought out for a quick refresher course, was seen to be breathing!

That scene was a moment of masterful comedy and during the break I had high hopes the play would gain some momentum. Sadly, that was to be the only real bit of entertainment in a production that received but a luke-warm reception from the first-night audience.

So where did it all go wrong? Why was it that, in this synagogue of scouse humour, a show starring one of Liverpool’s finest comedy actors should have been such a flop?

The answer lays in the question.  It wasn’t scouse humour, it was Irish humour – acted with bad Irish accents.  I was sat “at the water’s edge” and yet there was much of the dialogue I couldn’t properly comprehend due to the rushed presentation.  Much of the subtle humour was completely lost on me and indeed most of the Royal Court Audience.

Can the show be saved?  Well yes.  Even at this late stage, if they were to drop the Irish accents and set “The Flags” on a Merseyside or Lancashire beach and let Andrew Schofield do what he does best. Let him be scouse. And the rest of the cast too. Then Yes.  The Flags could see out its four week run with some dignity.  It could be done It really could – even at this late stage.  If the directors had the courage to make these few simple changes, they could turn this thing around. And think of the publicity they would receive for making such a brave decision!

As it stands, however, I cannot find it in me to recommend The Flags to anyone.  And that saddens me.  For since I first discovered this magical theatre some eighteen months ago, this is the first time I have come away disappointed.

The Hairy Photographer

(Half scouse, living in North Wales)

Read an edited version of this review on the Liverpool Echo website

That’s all I ask.  Just listen for five minutes and forty seconds.  It’s not much out of a whole lifetime is it?

Put on your headphones or turn up your speakers and go to isaacbirchall.com.

Listen to Dreamer.

Then if you like, listen to Image through my words.  And then Same. And then…  Hell it’s not up to me.  Listen to them all!

Back in the sixties I played the Cavern, the Iron Door and many other of those iconic Merseyside venues, I trod the same boards as the Beatles (sadly not at the same time), the Searchers, Freddie, Jerry, the Big Three,  and all the other big names of the day.

But if I’d had a quarter of the talent of this young man I’d have really gone places.

It was fun while it lasted.

Now it’s his turn.  If you like his music, tell people.

…but listen!

I love first nights.

The fluffed lines; the songs that don’t quite start on cue; the odd microphone that doesn’t work…

On that basis alone, I suppose I should have been disappointed – but I didn’t have time. From the minute the curtain went up, a faultless performance transported me back to the eighties.

Back to the day I fell in love with Irene Cara.

Last night I relived that famous water scene as she flicked her head sending jewel-like back-lit droplets cascading across the stage and then during the dance academy audition scene where in exquisite slow-motion she glided through the air.  Epic movie moments.

Except that last night, at the Liverpool Empire, it was Victoria Hamilton-Barritt who performed the part of Alex  – and I think I just fell in love all over again.

Flashdance the Musical was every bit as good as the film – and I’ve watched that film a good half dozen times over the past twenty five years. Last night the choreography (by Arlene Phillips) was magnificent.  And the songs – I’d forgotten just how many great songs – were  performed perfectly by the vibrant, energetic young cast.

They received a tremendous ovation from from the packed first-night house.

Did I mention I like final-night performances too?

Hmm.  Maybe after publicly declaring my love (albeit stage love) for this 2009 Alex, I doubt Jayne would let me go again!

As well as the beautiful Victoria Hamilton-Barritt, the 20-strong cast is headed up by Berine Nolan, Noel Sullivan (Hear’say) and Bruno Langley (Coronation Street’s Tod Grimshaw).  The show runs at the Liverpool Empire until 31st January before continuing its UK tour.

…and Strawberry Fields Forever

Yes, my lovely wife sure knows how to make an aging would-be (some would say “has-been”) rock star happy.

Seriously. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday treat (at least not one I could write about here ).

My lady and I drove to the city that I’ve fallen in love with all over again, through Hunt’s Cross, which held so many fond childhood memories, past the John Lennon Airport with it’s huge sign aptly subtitled “above us only sky” and on to Speak. To be specific – Speak Hall – set in its beautifully manicured gardens on the banks of the Mersey.

But today we hadn’t come to partake of this magnificent Tudor mansion’s historical charms. We were a mere stone’s throw from the place that was the birth of the Mersey Sound and we were here to take a magical mystery tour to Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields and to the childhood homes of two of the twentieth century’s most prolific songwriters, name of John and Paul.

We needn’t have arrived early – but I’m glad we did. The tours were running late due to technical problems, so we had time for a nosh in Speak Hall’s restaurant. Nothing posh, but bloody good – and precisely what you’d have been eating in Liverpool during olden times.

The main course choices were Scouse Pie and Pan Haggerty. Being veggies we chose the latter and it was the nicest cheese, onion and potato pie I’ve tasted. The Wet Nelly was a new one to me, a citrus sweet northern version of one of the traditional English bread-based puddings. Hmm delicious. And all washed down with a bottle of Curiosity Cola. Give the National Trust their due… when they take you back in time, they do it in style.

Fully sated we boarded the mini bus to John Lennon’s former home, Mendips, on Menlove Avenue, where an extremely knowledgeable custodian gave us a full and frank potted history of when John met Paul, and how they used to practise their faltering early compositions in the tiny front room. The house had been restored to its former glory after being donated to the trust by Yoko Ono in 2003. When it first opened to the public, Paul McCartney had apparently told the custodian they used to practice singing in the front inner porch because of the fantastic acoustics. We each of us today took the opportunity to follow suit.

Did I mention Sir Paul? Next stop was the McCartney’s childhood home, 20 Forthlin Road, a couple of miles away in a less salubrious area of Allerton. And having joked en-route about expecting Sir Paul to have a nice cup of tea ready for us, I alighted from the mini bus to be greeted by… Paul McCartney!

Okay, after rubbing my eyes and taking a long hard look, I realised it wasn’t actually Sir Paul himself – but I tell you, had John Halliday not been gainfully employed as custodian of 20 Forthlin Road, he could make a very good living as a Beatle look-alike. No only that, he had the same mannerisms and even sounded like his multi-millionaire alter ego.

The former factory worker informed me he still couldn’t believe his luck being paid to live the house of his childhood hero and spend his days talking Beatle talk.

The framed photographs taken by Paul’s younger brother Mike McCartney, vouched for the authenticity of the trust’s restoration program.

Jayne even got to sit upon the former Beatle’s throne, having missed the sign for the new visitor’s toilet on the next outhouse along. When she emerged, to the surprise of one elderly lady queueing for the real toilet, Jayne told her she hoped she hadn’t flushed away any historical …erm …deposits, the poor lady couldn’t stop laughing at the thought and almost wet herself on the spot! She was still giggling as we all got back on the mini bus for the return trip.

It was a lovely day. It brought back fond memories of the time I was an Executioner, tinged with a little regret that I never actually met the Beatles when I played the Cavern, the Iron Door and other landmark venues back in the sixties. Although I didn’t appreciate the significance at the time, I am so glad I lived through that area. Jayne, bless her, missed it of course. She was knocking out a beat with a rattle on the side of her pram in Hyton whilst I was a mile or two down the road rattling the Cavern’s foundations with my bass guitar.

Happy days!

The Beatles tours are run from Speak Hall Wednesday to Sunday and Bank Holidays from April to October,
at 10.00, 10.50, 14.30 and 15.20. Please note there is no direct access to these properties by car or foot. You can book tickets via www.nationaltrust.org.uk/beatles or telephone 0151 427 7231.
Prices (2008): Adult £15.00, Child £3.00, NT Member Adult £7.00

It really is a great day out!