I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky
You have to feel a bit sorry for John Masefield writing poems about the sea and then ending up on a pub sign in New Ferry looking uncommonly like Adolf Hitler.
New Ferry is where you can find the Wirral Farmer’s Market and I was down there this morning to pick up food for the weekend. The onset of autumn is clearly bringing on some subliminal desire for slow cooking as I came away with an ox heart, some ox tail and a piece of beef that I was told would need roasting for a good three hours.
The same man who sold me the beef was also selling giant carrots almost to inches across. I bought a bunch of these and a bag of his homegrown potatoes.
There were also some French style baguettes for lunch to be stuffed with either steak or chicken and a Moroccan Lentil Roll.
Afterwards I walked through New Ferry. A place in decline although there used to be a pub there whose bar was taken from Brunel’s SS Great Eastern which was broken up nearby. Sadly the bar and the pub are long gone.