When we arrived in Liverpool I was keen to find a loo, so keen that I was happy to contemplate a station loo. That was until I saw the queue, clearly we hadn’t timed our arrival so well. In fact I’d had a bit of a funny turn on the train, it was hot but I was struggling to cool down throughout much of the two and a bit hour journey, so I’d send MOH off to find some water.

I was putting it down to the coffee we’d had at Euston, although MOH thought it might have been some travel sickness from the Pendolino train. Whatever it was I was glad to get off and see the concourse at Lime Street. I felt so rough that while MOH went off in search of water, I moved into the window seat and despite it not having the cool air blowing onto it, I did start to improve. It really was quite odd, and either, or both of us could be right about the cause.

Arriving at Lime Street and needing the loo

But anyway, back to the queue for the loo, which was out the door and onto the concourse. I thought there must be somewhere else close by and so was pleased to hear a lady tell another of the loos in the Wetherspoons just next door. Not needing to be told twice, when MOH returned we set off in search of a queue-less loo.

I wasn’t quite ready for what I was to find, but as you can see it all started out fairly normally. Classic tiles, a row of basins and ornate mirrors. There was still a small queue, or rather I was the start of the queue, but that was way better than the previous option.