The £14 London Northwestern Railway return ticket from London Euston to Liverpool felt like stealing. As the train hurtled north at 110mph – though it felt faster – I pressed my face to the window, watching grey skies blur over waterlogged fields. The giddiness was building: in a few hours, I'd be at Everton's new Hill Dickinson Stadium, watching the Toffees take on Leeds.
First, though: Hope Street Hotel in the Knowledge Quarter, a swift 12-minute walk from Liverpool Lime Street. My Corner View Suite occupied the entire top floor corner – floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city skyline, a compact terrace perfect for braver souls than me on this bitter January afternoon.
Before kickoff, I settled into The London Carriage Works, the hotel's fine dining restaurant. My January health drive just barely won out over the rich, meaty options: celeriac velouté, then pan-seared sea bass, both executed beautifully. The chocolate and ginger tart with passionfruit sauce skewed too bitter for my taste, but a smooth Albariño and a small hazy IPA made excellent company.
Back in the room, I pulled on my Everton shirt (a Christmas gift from my wonderful wife) and joined the hordes of Evertonians at Liverpool One Bus Station. The £2 shuttle deposited us minutes later at the foot of the £750m masterpiece: Bramley Moore Dock Stadium, all 52,769 seats of it gleaming against the Mersey.
My ballot seat in the north stand's upper tier cost £63 – technically a "cheap seat," however the view was anything but. Everton's performance, sadly, didn't match the venue. A fortunate 1-1 draw with Leeds. As I sank into the king-size bed that night, I was already planning my next trip north.
Breakfast at 1931, the hotel's second restaurant, involved a confusing hybrid system – an à la carte menu ordered from staff manning the hot buffet. The crispy hash browns and punchy black pudding redeemed the slight organisational chaos. The berry smoothie was fine; the coffee from the in-room pod machine was better.
The weather outside had turned truly abysmal – the kind of Merseyside rain that feels personal. After debating a trip to the Albert Docks, I retreated to the award-winning spa instead, surrendering to a 50-minute "Stress Not" treatment (£70) with hot stones and TempleSpa's CBD-infused oils. As the therapist worked knots I didn't know I had, the Middle Eastern music transported me – appropriate, perhaps, given our upcoming trip to Saudi Arabia, Oman, and the UAE.
Too soon, checkout arrived. Twenty-four hours had been brilliant, despite the mediocre football. Next time: 48 hours minimum. And perhaps slightly less rain.
Article by Sam Shead
