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The Liverpool Chronicles: a short trip in the capital of intoxication

 


Euston, scene one. Picture, if you will, Bedlam on steroids. Travellers huddle on the concourse like pelicans, necks craned at the departure board. The platform flashes up; the herd bolts. “Reserved” on the London–Liverpool line is not a promise, merely a polite suggestion — hence the sprint.

Lime Street arrives early. We stroll fifteen minutes to our home-from-home, the excellent Hope Street Hotel. 




It’s a perfect spot: near the action, not in it.The corner studios on or above the third floor are the most sort-after parts of the hotel. It’s not just the views!




Colin Corin



Warm greeting from Colin, practical tips on where to eat, drink and (if you must) dance. Americans abound, museums and Beatles tours are a wander away, and the Philharmonic Hall glows around the corner. 




The corner suite came with a gorgeous blonde

A brief origin story. The building (The London Carriage Works, 1869) was meant to be apartments until the numbers said “hotel.” Early guests included Condoleezza Rice; later came a gutsy engineering stitch-up of old and new — cleverly done so it still feels like a boutique, not a bolt-on. Corner suites offer views to the Liver Birds; below the old haunts of the ’70s and ’80s have vanished. Liverpool hasn’t. The city hums — jokes, music, football, parties. If that’s not your thing, the hotel bar pours a quiet pint very nicely. 



First stop: Barnacle, just round the corner. Ideal for beers, martinis and fast Scouse patter. The setting — a modern brasserie inside the Grade II-listed former School for the Blind — is handsome and calm; the staff have stories for days. Have two drinks, hear four tales. That’s the exchange rate. (24 Hardman Street, L1 9AS.)



Dinner at NORD (100 Old Hall Street). A bit of a stretch on foot, so take a taxi — or stop for culture on the way. 

Nord

Room: gorgeous. Service: extremely warm. Wine: lovely. Food: a mixed bag. Our “T-bone” turned out to be… enthusiastic chops. One waiter, trying to preserve the illusion, insisted “It’s T-bone!” Another quietly confirmed the truth. 

T-bone or delicious chops, you decide.

Management wobbled: Richard denied being the manager — a manager in denial.

What the fig! Couldn't get my mouth around this dish.

Verdict: ambience 10; food: 4 for the strange cheese biscuits on a napkin, and same for the tartare (8–10 for the lamb chops at £38, cod £28, wine BTL sense cap? £41. Staff mostly terrific.  £220.55 for two is on the steep side for me...  But then, we’d try again — preferably on the night the manager isn’t really there.

Nord

Back on Hope Street, the city’s pulse carries on long after you don’t. Liverpool today is Bacchus with a diary: you can party ’til you drop, stand up, and ask what’s next. We opted for the nightcap and the walk home, city lights folding into the Mersey.

In the morning try the breakfast in the Hope Street Hotel's 1931 Restaurant.  Great value for money and good to get you in the right mood for the day or journey ahead. Great staff too.

We give Hope Street Hotel a 9-10, in the hope you won’t rush there - and then there’s no room at the inn for us.

Next in The Big Retort Liverpool Chronicles: coming soon.

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