Liverpool: Trog-a-go-go
I live in the south-western suburbs of Sydney, namely Liverpool.
I moved from another metropolitan area to Liverpool after my separation quite some years ago now, as I worked in Liverpool, and thought “well, may as well move somewhere close to work so that I don’t kill an hour a day travelling”.
Good idea! I thought at the time, and I was quite impressed that within my first week of residence, I had a nice lady from the local council come to visit, bringing me a “Welcome to Liverpool” pack, with vouchers and goodies from local businesses, and informational literature on services provided locally.
There was a pedestrian plaza, where they had blocked off the main street and created a large area where there was a big colourful fountain and children’s play area, which would be teeming with little kids and their mums frolicking away, a huge chess set with pieces half the height of a person with a surrounding low brick wall, where lots of old folks (men mostly) would congregate while two played a game. There was also an accompanying peanut gallery of older men discussing the next move, or helpfully calling out suggestions - which may or may not have been appreciated by the actual players!
Some of the cafés had started putting out tables and chairs for some alfresco dining, and all in all, it was actually quite a lovely spot on a sunny day.
Until they opened the methadone clinic.
Now we have toothless wrinkled women who look in their fifties (but are probably in their twenties), along with their ill-dressed, snotty toddlers, and equally scruffy boyfriends, who have decided to make the plaza their home. I think they visit the clinic first thing in the morning, then move themselves to the available seating in the plaza, and spend their time there doing I don’t know what.
Some hit you up for money or cigarettes, but mostly they just hang out, having verbal arguments using every expletive in the book with each other, at the top of their voices. Of course, I, myself am not adverse to the word “fuck”, but I do take exception to it screamed out in a public place where there are kids and old ladies about. I just think of how my mother would react, my father would probably say something and get knifed in return. He’s old school and NEVER swears in front of mum and me.
Then there’s “creepy shouting wheelchair man”.
He’s an old man, of unknown nationality, who is wheelchair bound and has been frequenting the plaza area for a couple of years now.
Some days, for reasons known only to himself I am sure, he wears a police uniform, including the hat and he barrels through the plaza (and seemingly every shop and arcade in it) in his motorised wheelchair, shouting “habbibi, hello habbibi, *unintelligible words* I love you, how are you habbibi!” over and over again and again, at the top of his voice. He zooms into just about every shop and freaks out the staff with his twice-daily yell-fest. I avoid him like the plague.
Then there’s toothless homeless guy (that looks a bit like Keith Richards, on one of his bad days), who wheels a shopping trolley around with all that he owns in it, with his mangy dog attached by an old piece of rope.
All of these add up to a bit of a “run the gauntlet through the creepy people” affair when visiting the pedestrian plaza, which I do often, to shop and get a yummy iced moccha from Gloria Jeans!
Another downside of the downslide of Liverpool is the availability of some items in the shops. If you’re looking for higher-end stuff, say, like paté (and I’m not talking about the nasty supermarket, prepacked in plastic sort, but the cut from a “loaf” home-made sort), you’ll have buckleys of getting it. There is just no market for it as there once was, except me it seems!
Now I know some of you are reading this thinking “oh my god, how up-herself this chick is, those people are unfortunate, she should feel sorry for them, they are victims of circumstance blah blah blah, paté-munching yuppie blah blah blah.
Well, you’re right on SO many levels. YES, unfortunate, victims of circumstance etc etc., but although I am certainly a paté-muncher, I am no yuppy, just a regular westie girl myself. I just think it would be nice to not have to “run the gauntlet” or hear the yelling really.
“Why don’t you move?” you’ll say. Yeah, I could. I shouldn’t have to though. Living here is convenient for me. It’s close to work and close to friends. I guess I just miss the days when the plaza was something to enjoy. I used to love to go and watch the old guys play chess. It was real theatre and free! I haven’t seen the pieces out lately, they were probably stolen or vandalised and removed. 
The more I read over this post, the more I feel like I sound shallow and ignorant. You have to give me credit for honesty at least!
Now, the next post will be much less controversial and serious. It’ll be about religion.
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The Puppy wrote,
You bloody snob.
I lived in Liverpool too until late last year, and I experienced everything you described. The wheelchair guy is much loved by the community, including the police force, hence his uniform, so don’t go being offensive to him around the wrong people.
The methodone clinic, is indeed icky, and has introduced a whole new raft of people into the plaza but you’re right - you should be more understanding.
HOWEVER, I agree with you 100% about the inappropriate behaviour with the yelling and swearing etc. THAT really does peeve me, as it intrudes on other people in a way that I believe is not right. Heck, I actually enjoy walking around at home in my own skin but I would never dare to do it outside.
And that’s not because I would be embarrassed for people to see me naked. No, instead, I would not do it because others would feel that it’s inappropriate. The same goes for swearing, etc. Sure, they shouldn’t be embarrassed to act in whatever way they wish to (which I often hear as a reaction to that kind of behaviour, eg. “oh my goodness, I wouldn’t be caught dead acting like that!”), but they should definitely consider other people’s feelings.
Think about it another way - if you had young kids and you were perpetuating the falsehood of Santa, would you appreciate me coming up and telling them Santa wasn’t real, “and by the way - tooth fairy, and Easter Bunny? Yep - fake too”.
So, yes, Eve-y, I agree with you about reacting to their behaviour.
Link | February 4th, 2006 at 4:49 pm
The Grumpy One wrote,
Crikey, a comment almost as long as my post!
I respect your opinion Andy,and thanks for stating it, but re “Creepy Wheelchair Guy” I reckon you’re wrong about “loved by the community”. I don’t think the community “loves” him. I think they are either a) creeped out by him, b)tolerate him with pittying amusement or c)respond to him in a friendly way, to get him to move on as quickly as possible.
But hey, I am a heartless cold bitch, so what would I know lol
Link | February 4th, 2006 at 5:36 pm
larry wrote,
The creepy guy is actually yelling out stuff in “Italian” from what I have read. He is apparently much loved or so the profile piece that appeared in the local paper would suggest.
As for the methodone clinic - The drug problem has simply moved down the train line from Cabramatta. The Government made a big deal about cleaning up Cabra and to a large extent they have improved the area. But the problem has not been solved, it has just moved to Liverpool. Soon enough, we will see Cabra type hype about Liverpool and it will move further south to Ingleburn and then Cambelltown etc etc. Whilst it is easy to complain about their behaviour, something needs to be done to solve the problem. Unfortunately, the solution is a hard one to find and like most things difficult, people prefer to sweep it under the carpet.
Link | February 7th, 2006 at 10:28 pm
Brooke wrote,
Finally a true insight into the declining culture of Liverpool.
You left out the laughing guy who stands around pointing and laughing at people.
He may appear harmless, but can get violent.
To Larry; Habbibi is middle Eastern for love.
Link | June 27th, 2006 at 7:56 pm