We all know the song. The Liverpool Football fans know it word for
word.
Recently I was standing
outside Liverpool Football Club looking at the memorial to the Hillsborough
tragedy and reading these famous words “you’ll never walk alone…” enthroned on
the gate. It was a moving experience,
even more so in the light of last year’s revelations that the fans were not to
‘blame’ for the disaster but rather that the mismanaged crowd had been allowed
to enter the stadium until well over capacity, drastically breaching safety
standards. Having carried responsibility
for public events many times myself I shuddered at the atrociously poor
judgement which led to such an enormous loss of life and suffering for
hundreds, if not thousands, of families; all of which was made worse by the
infamous cover-up. Over days in Liverpool filled with enjoyable experiences this was one
of only two moments of melancholy.
Why was I there? Well, laugh if you like, but I was there as
an invited VIP – booked for a Close Protection training course so the students
had someone to practise on. I was met at
the train station by two cars and a team of five security professionals: what
is known as a PPO, a Personal Protection Officer, two drivers and two additional
bodyguards. Bodyguard, I believe, is the
old-fashioned term, but forgive me for using it. I like its hulky, sexy,
ready-to-do-anything-for-you inference, which frankly applied well to my
attractive, healthy team of two women and three men.
I travelled in the first car
with my PPO and driver, behind in another dark car were the other three. It was just like you see in the movies:
alert, athletic people with ear pieces and exceptionally good manners, watching
my every move and meeting my every need.
Car doors opened and closed, people greeted me, guided me, glided beside
and behind me like I was the President: “watch your step Madam”… “can I get you
anything”… “are you comfortable”… “would you like to go to the hotel… yes, it’s
on the waterfront…. or would you like…”
the options were endless. I had a
few days in lovely Liverpool – which I hadn’t visited for more than a decade –
under warm blue skies to do exactly as I pleased while being exceptionally well
cared for and made to feel special.
Clearly the team were being
watched from somewhere by the managers assessing them. I wondered if it was a helicopter or a
telescope, as texts occasionally arrived which revealed they knew what we were
doing, but they were incognito and wouldn’t tell me their position. Maybe when that stuff happens in the movies
it isn’t as much fiction as I thought?
If you read this blog or www.blogjuliearts.com it won’t
surprise you to learn many of my activities were arts-related but still I was
impressed that whenever I arrived anywhere – a museum, a theatre, a bar, a
restaurant – a group of people near the front doors discreetly, but carefully, appeared
ready for my arrival. I think my team had
‘cased the joint’ in anticipation… having previously given them a list of places
I might visit… but only after direct questioning did I learn Close Protection standards
means plans are put in place for escape routes and damage limitation. Other security guards nodded to my guys with
respect, acknowledging their job to look after the chatty, pint-sized, red-head
was important or challenging or both.
This made me laugh but also stand a little taller. Hmm, maybe it was an omen? A come-back looming? It reminded me anyway, of the height of my
fifteen minutes of fame – which around Neighbours
lasted some years – and I couldn’t help but think how much better this
‘protection’ was to what I’d previously experienced. Perhaps the industry has come on a pace? Perhaps the right people hadn’t always been appointed
before? But I clearly remember many
occasions when there was such a mini-riot in places around London that once I
had to hide in a red telephone box in Leicester Square while my loyal Deputy
Stage Manager did what he could to move the crowd away who were intent on
banging on the door and doing anything they could to get in and touch me. Seriously, I am not exaggerating. So once you have experienced such highs of
hysteria, anything about fame makes you always consider the perceived elements
of success with something of a rye smile.
To be up, then down, in fortunes and fame is a good leveller. It’s a shame the millions chasing instant
profile on the likes of the X Factor don’t realize how flimsy a goal it is. (But don’t get me started on that subject as I
detest reality television for more reasons than boredom.)
Anyway, back to my
story. I was amused when I saw people
watch me moving around Liverpool with my team – steering me in such a way that
even in a busy museum or shopping street the crowd had no choice but to part –
and sometimes a spectator would turn to the other with an expression like “who’s
she?” I felt guilty sitting in the sun
with a beer on the pretty Albert Dock while my lovely bodyguards drank nothing
but water, but not sufficiently guilty not to do it. Whenever I was delivered to my charming hotel
room in the Radisson, a time was agreed for me to be picked up again, and sure
enough at exactly the appointed time there would be a knock on the door. The lift was opened and held, other people
had to wait to go down as my team and I took up much of the space, and when we
emerged from the foyer, the Radisson staff nodding at me with indulgence, there
was always the two cars waiting.
Ooh, I felt spoilt. I only wished I’d brought a much higher pair
of heels – for in London Tuscany
Later that evening we went
to Liverpool ’s stunning Anglican Cathedral to
admire the city lights from the top of the tower. An over-used word perhaps, but our experience
was magical. The moon seemed to have
received the memo that a VIP was in town… for at exactly the right moment she
came slowly through the clouds… little by little, a partial moon peeping
increasingly over the top… the silver lining glowing like a story-book… until suddenly
she POPPED above the clouds… FULL and BLUE.
Yes, I wasn’t imagining it. My
PPO googled and we discovered it was indeed the night of a precious blue
moon. For those glorious minutes as she shone
blue and golden we fell into silence, a shared sense of hope and awe. When Nature is that glorious it feels anything
is possible. It was a bonding
moment. I was becoming very fond of my
bodyguards. And go figure, when my PPO
is not being a terrific tour guide and companion, she is also an actress. So we managed a little rendition of Blue Moon and various other snippets of romantic
conversation before climbing down the
tower’s many steps to explore the rest of the Cathedral with a private guide, another
person who’d been hood-winked into treating me like a VIP.
I enjoyed many things about
Liverpool: the fearless Mersey River; the interesting history of the docks and
the effective redevelopment of waterfront spaces; the elegant Three Graces, one of the buildings topped
with Liver Birds from where the city gets her legend; the well-designed
Museum of Liverpool and Merseyside Maritime Museum; the scattering of colourful
sculptures known as “Lambananas”; Beatles memorabilia; the Liverpool
International Music Festival; Sefton Park; Albert Dock; and the
Green Room on Duke Street. Cabaret
Lounges are all too rare around the world these days, so I was very pleased to
find one thriving in Liverpool . I managed to meet two of the three partners,
including the big man himself, Ricky Tomlinson.
I was happy to discover Ricky’s warmth and humour in conversation and
performance is as bountiful as his determination to contribute to society and
make his voice heard on many a political topic.
In his down-to-earth style I recognised what I really like about
Liverpudlians: a no-nonsense, independent attitude. Aussies are at home with a straight-shooting,
no bull-shit approach, so perhaps that’s why we often get on well with northerners.
Perhaps too it’s the Celtic
influence which makes me appreciate this quote from the wall of the Museum of Liverpool
Liverpudlians have
spirit. I like their accent too –
originally born from affection for Shirley
Valentine. One of my more humorous observations
is that the women in Liverpool really like to
dress up. I mean, really dress up; as in make a tremendous effort. London Liverpool
on a Thursday, Friday or Saturday night you will be surrounded by the highest
heels you have seen outside a Russian mllionaire’s party and hair dos to match.
The hair-dressers must be making a fortune.
To my mind the hairstyles and glamorous dresses are more suited to a
lavish wedding than a bar or nightclub… but far be it for me to criticize girls
putting their best foot forward, even if, personally, it seemed a little over
the top. I tell you what though, next
time I go to Liverpool , bodyguards or not,
I’ll be packing high-heels and a chiffon number.
I should end on a particular
highlight: my visit to Crosby
Beach
When finally the training
exercises were complete and my team took me back to the hotel, I emerged from
the lift on the ninth floor and for the first time in days I was alone.
I felt an inexplicable wave
of sadness. No. I felt lonely. I was without their care, their company. I had so quickly gotten used to someone
watching out for me… someone, a team in fact, making me feel special. For those days we’d been a little family and
instantly I missed them.
Of course I adjusted fairly
quickly to being alone again. A five
star hotel with a view and a mini-bar helped ease the blow.
Yet it reminds me that whatever
happens in one’s life or career, we should never forget to be grateful for the
people who support us, back us up - whether a Close Protection team, a husband,
wife, lover, friend, parent, relative, acquaintance, stranger, colleague or
unseen angel. We are all poorer if we take this care for
granted.
Thank you Liverpool . Thank you my Close Protection team. Travel safe and whenever I hear “eyes on”
I’ll remember you.
Recommendations:
http://sefton.gov.uk/default.aspx?page=6216
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Another_Place
www.thegreenroomliverpool.com
http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/
http://www.clairestringer.com/lambas.htm
http://www.radissonblu.co.uk/hotel-liverpool
