I grew up thinking of Liverpool as a rival. My home was near the industrial powerhouse that was Manchester, supposed cradle of the Industrial Revolution, still belching smoke and commercial success in my 1940s childhood.
Liverpool – the north’s great transatlantic port, its docks choked with ocean-going vessels of every kind, its quays where goods of every description were shifted by skilled and sinewy local dockers – was seen as its arch rival. Both have impressive histories. It was only when I came to research Liverpool for my novel, All the Nice Girls, set there in the 1940s, that I grew to know and relish its remarkable character.
As is right for a city whose identity is built on its industrial past, it’s best to arrive by train. Liverpool's Lime Street station has passed into legend: it was the largest station known when it was built in the early 19th century.
If it isn’t actually named in a Beatles song, it deserves to be. Its cavernous interior is spanned by a vast arching glass roof; its entrance opens onto a cityscape that is Liverpool’s Victorian pride
A great spread of grand buildings expresses the bursting civic confidence that went with booming trade and prosperity. There’s the magnificent St George’s Hall – as fine a neoclassical building as you’ll find in the world. It echoes the pillared lines of a Greek temple, but houses two concert halls and the law courts.
Behind it, along a pathway that retains its old cobblestones – not a place to approach in high heels – is the Walker Art Gallery, home to some of the most familiar Pre-Raphaelite paintings of all time, by Millais, Lord Leighton and that postcard favourite: And When Did You Last See Your Father? by Yeames.
But wait, I’ve only just got started: Liverpool has more museums and art galleries than any other British city outside London.
The pride of them all has to be Tate Liverpool, an offspring of its glorious London parent, housed in a glamorous conversion of the Albert Dock warehouses, one of the multitude of docks – some ten miles of them – that once served Liverpool’s shipping industry. Across the way, another former warehouse is home to the Maritime Museum, which tells an enthralling story of ships and struggles, glory and suffering.
Liverpool also houses what must be one of the museum world’s best-kept secrets. Derby House (Western Approaches Museum) is a network of underground bunkers, strongly fortified against direct hits from German bombs, where the Battle of the Atlantic was plotted and planned.
One of the characters in my novel, Jessica, works here as a Wren officer. And it wasn’t difficult for me to conjure up exactly what it must have felt like: enclosed, secret and vitally important to Britain’s war effort. Rooms and offices are preserved or re-created to capture the mood of those dark days. There are even bunks where staff would snatch a quick kip between shifts.
Those were bad times for the city. But Liverpool has had its glorious eras, too. In the early 20th century the group of buildings that cluster round the Pier Head was taking shape. The Liver Building itself is now the emblem of the city, with its two great Liver birds. This is where the ferry leaves to cross the Mersey, taking visitors and locals alike to the further shore.
The Mersey is a great seaway, not as busy as in its heyday, but still a bustling place, and from the ferry itself you can see the famous skyline and get the tang of the sea in your face. The river has been famously remembered in many songs, of course, for Liverpool’s recent renewal owes much to the Liverpool Sound.
The heart of the city is its people: quick-witted, full of chatter and confidence, they are sharp of tongue and generous of heart. They like people, and like each other. The Scouse accent - round and warm – takes something of its idiom from the Irish and Welsh immigrants who came here, mixed in with the dialects of seafarers bringing their different ways and languages.
This is a multinational city. Its year of culture, 2008, brought out the best: great concerts, performances, exhibitions and street art of every colour and style. And the legacy of those heady days lives on. Liverpool doesn’t envy any other city: for those born there it is the best place in the world. For the rest of us, we are lucky to be visitors.
Joan Bakewell’s first novel, All the Nice Girls (£17.99, Little, Brown), is out now.
British Airways flies to Manchester from London Gatwick and Heathrow. Book a flight on ba.com now.
Read our ultimate guide to Liverpool - by some of its most famous faces.
