An English character; Hoylake; & British noise.

One of the people I noticed on the ferry from Santander was someone whom the British would probably regard as an eccentric but other nations might well see as a complete nutter. I first saw him as I checked in, when he spoke to one of the people in the kiosk. Then I saw him as I parked my car, as he was securing his bike against a wall of the boat. He was in his 60s, if not his seventies, and was short and sinewy. The bike was lengthened by a trailer, with panniers on each side and a violin case strapped to the top. The next time I saw him he'd commandeered a settee near the piano bar and had laid his stuff out on the floor. And he was talking to himself. Later in the evening, he was stretched out on the settee, fast asleep. In the morning, he was playing a small accordion and singing. But no one was listening. Needless to say, he was English.

When I was a kid, the town of Hoylake - and, even more so, next-door West Kirby - were considered rather superior. I guess they still are, though a little less in the case of Hoylake. That said, while it may now be a tad down-at-heel, Hoylake certainly retains its charm. Partly this is because it still has its promenade and its strand. But mainly it's because the high street has not much changed in decades and there are no big-name national stores with their garish facades. Not even a bank. True, there probably weren't back then the healthfood shops, the Thai and Vegan restaurants and the Holistics stores but these are all, surely, a plus. The other positive factor is that the shops are largely confined to one side of the street, leaving the other side to be occupied by handsome houses and churches. And, sadly, the occasional Sainsburys.

The best thing about Hoylake, though, is the Wine shop that specialises in Spanish grape varieties, largely because of family connections in Valencia. Not only did the owner know of Galicia's Godello grape but had 4 different bottles of it. Upmarket from this were the several bottles of Vega Sicilia on the shelves, at prices around 200 quid.

Of course, if you'r a golf aficionado, you'll know the British Open is regularly held at the Royal Liverpool Club, situated half-way between Hoylake and West Kirby - not where you might expect it to be, across the Mersey in Liverpool. But, then, no one who made big money in that city in the 19th century stayed on that side of the river after work.

Finally . . . I don't know if I'm going to get used to the crushing silence in the cafés I've visited in the last 4 days. It's underwhelming.