Liver Birds

 

 

I have moved around a couple of different countries in the world and I have always been asked what I am. I say that I am British because I am indeed a British citizen, hailing from England, but I've never particularly considered myself as being English. In actual fact, I have felt like a fraud in the past when describing myself as English because it was only when I was living amongst Kiwis in New Zealand that I ever started to describe myself as English. It was during my time in New Zealand that I discovered I indeed had a nationality. In truth I have always identified more strongly with the city I come from. Some consider my city to be beneath them, others love its music scene, many travel north for its football teams and some can't get past its accent.
 As a foreigner living abroad, I wonder about home and check what's happening in God's Green and Pleasant Land regularly but I'm generally most interested in the Lives and Time's of Liverpool, a northern city which is situated on the West coast and faces Ireland. Liverpool as a city is probably the reason I don't relate to the South of England. We are far removed from Westminster up there in the North of England, we think differently and we use different words, (the great tea/dinner debate rages on between my southern friends and I). Liverpool was once a forgotten city, her inhabitants and their offensive accents left to suffer in slum conditions, dockside industries left dormant and grown men unable to feed their large families. Liverpool (like much of the North of England) has known pain in times both historic and recent, we won't go into Margaret Thatcher and her 'policies' because I am not political. The reason I mention these things is because it is the fight for acceptance that has led to The City of Liverpool's unwavering belief in itself. The people of Liverpool had to fight a long battle against prejudice, ('I knew I was flying over Liverpool when my watch was stolen,' and 'calm down, calm down,' are a couple of symptoms of the problem).
 However, Liverpool appears to have won the battle she found herself rather unwillingly fighting and is now considered a cultural hub, visited by thousands and is synonymous with many inhabitants who've gone public and popularised the infamous Scouse accent. Ricky Tomlinson is probably my favourite but it'd be rude not to mention Macca as well. Acceptance has come in the last few years and it's been long overdue; even the accent seems to be appropriate in polite conversation these days, it seems that we've been forgiven for dropping our h's and our creative approach towards the grammatical tenses.

 

  I have battled with depression all of my life, I have fought against weight gain and I have often thought that the answer lies somewhere sunnier, but this is not true. The answer lies within myself and the identity I have inherited from a city as strong as it has been downtrodden, intelligent as it was considered stupid, alive as it was once decaying and a city that will always be just a little bit edgy. Long live Goodison, long live Anfield, long may the iron statues stand on Crosby beach, let's hope the ferries sail to Birkenhead for many years to come, long live life beside the Mersey and bless the Liver Birds who keep their charges safe and sound.