I was warned that places would be swarming with people this Easter Weekend, and so I decided to scrap my plans to visit Southport or Walton Hall & Gardens near Warrington, and instead confine myself to the Wirral Peninsula, where my relatives live.
I decided to find that pretty country road that takes you south along the Peninsula. First I had to program the inbuilt GPS system in the car so that it would take me the right way, which means for me, not on the motorway. I put in the postcode for Hoylake, which meant that it took me to Leasowe and Moreton. Once I was sure I was on the right road, I programmed it for Parkgate, but oh dear! That Bossy British Female Voice was very unhappy that I didn’t want to go on the motorway. However, I follwed the signs to Hoylake, West Kirby, Heswall and so on down to Parkgate, and eventually she subsided. Because I’d programmed the Post Code for The Boathouse (a restaurant/pub that had been recommended to me), my Disembodied Voice took me down a lane (Boathouse Lane) where I’d never been before. At the bottom, The Boathouse loomed up on the right, so I turned right into the car park. There were plenty of spaces and no-one around. I checked my watch. It was 10:00 am.
After making sure I’d parked the car properly, I got out to walk around.
Parkgate at 10:00 in the morning on a Saturday is a rather lonely place. Apart from the inevitable dog-walkers, no-one was out. It was raining and blowing, making it virtually certain that the residents of this riverside village in Cheshire would be snug in their cottages drinking copious amounts of tea. How glad I was for my puff-jacket with its warm hood! I walked away from The Boathouse, my back facing it, and along the “sea front.” Actually, you can’t see the Dee River from the front, because in between is an enormous marsh, wonderful for birds and bird-watchinig. So I walked down the street, hoping to find some snacks to feed myself on Monday night, when I would be staying at that budget Ibis Hotel, which had no room service, but something called a “bottle bar.” And I also wanted to buy some chocolate to supplement the sandwiches I’d been eating as an evening snack.
The first place I happened upon was a pop-up bakery, that happens every Saturday. A cheerful young man explained all his wares. He had several savory pastries and pies, and some sweet stuff. After that, I spied Nicholls, famous for its ice-cream in these parts. The young woman there was very happy to tell me that the dairy milk bar I picked up had only chocolate in it. In a fit of naughtiness, bought four of them.
I glanced at my watch to see that it was only 10:20, and so I followed The Parade to the very end. There, it turns left into Station Road. I walked a few feet up this road and peered ahead, but could see nothing interesting, so I turned back. At Coastguard’s Lane, I turned right and walked all the way to the end, where my way was blocked by a bridge and a gate. Now that I can look at it on a map, I see that it is a trail called The Wirral Way. On the right hand side was a school, called Parkgate Primary School. It reminded me of the various primary schools I’d attended in Britain with my sister.
Turning around, I walked back to The Parade, turned right and walked back to The Boathouse. By this time, it was nearly 11:00 am, so I tried the doors only to find they were all locked. I was a bit surprised because their website had stated they would open at 9:30.
I got back into my car, found the number and called.
A cheery female voice answered.
“Are you open today?” I enquired.
“Indeed we are!” she replied.
“What time will you open?” I asked.
There was a long pause.
I repeated the question.
“We open at noon!” she finally declared.
“Good,” I said. “I’ll be there then. Byyyye.” And I ended the call.
When I arrived on the dot of noon, there was no-one there except myself and about three waitresses. But all of them were very friendly Perhaps they were happy to see their first customer! I ordered grilled fish, a glass of apple cider and a glass of tap water. As there was no-one else there, they’d sat me at a very nice table that commanded a view of the Welsh Hills. After that, I asked for espresso. Instead the waitress offered me a coffee dessert. It was a small brownie with one scoop of vanilla ice cream, and came with espresso.
It was perfect.
