So we’re driving south in Liverpool.  From the docks to the city center.  And
Tony points out this giant edifice.  And tells me it’s an air vent.  For the
tunnel.  ACROSS THE MERSEY!

Hanging with Tony Wilson is like hanging with a living encyclopedia.  It’s an
endless river of facts, quotations and insights.  On the way back from
dropping off Yvette’s dry-cleaning, Tony pointed out the world’s FIRST TRAIN STATION!

You see the industrial revolution began in Manchester.

But it’s not only home of the first railroad station, it’s also where the
COMPUTER was born.  Oh, fuck that machine in Philadelphia, that was a glorified
calculator.  The one in Manchester, it was the first computer with a MEMORY,
wherein you could load a program.  Did I want to SEE IT?

Then we pull up to a gate, where the attendant waves Tony through, since he’s
a trustee of the museum.

Then, the dudes in the museum give Tony the keys, so we can get to the top
floor, to see "Baby".  That’s what they called it.  I could never figure out why.

And on the third floor of what turned out to be the world’s first railroad
WAREHOUSE stood this rack of metal and wires and tubes.  What a contradiction,
in a building sporting the original beams, which looked like they’d ignite if a
lighter ENTERED the building, was the genesis of the next modern age, today’s
modern age.

And then, after a management panel at the library, which I enjoyed because
the drummer for the SMITHS was on it with us, we went to lunch.  And, after
catching up with Seymour Stein and the Atlantic crew, I accompanied Tony to the
kennel, to drop off his dog.

The kennel was almost an hour away.

Tony asked if I noticed the bumps in the road.  That was a result of being
built on moss, which constantly heaved and settled.

The land was lush and green.  It was like a flat Connecticut.  But the main
roads here were like the back streets there.  With Tony driving at light speed
on the wrong side of the road it was an endless thrill ride.  And, after
dropping the dog off, in a place that looked like it’d been there HUNDREDS of
years, Tony pointed the Jaguar towards Liverpool.

Oh yes, I wanted to see the home of the Beatles.  But, Tony wanted to SHOW IT
TO ME just as much.

The city’s depressed.  All the shipping moved to Amsterdam.

And it’s starting to pour.  But Tony insists we’ve got to see this art
installation by his favorite artist.

Like a typical male, Tony wouldn’t stop and ask for directions.  But finally,
after circling the area, we accosted some wetsuited windsurfers, who pointed
the way to a…parking lot.

And you’ve got to get this.  It’s RAINING!  Not pouring, that came later,
when we walked down by the pier, which was like an English Venice.  But we’ve
come this far.  Tony had his Burberry, me, I braved it in my summer jacket.

We’re walking.  With nothing in sight.  I’m dead tired from the jet lag.  The
wind is blowing.  And then, the better part of a mile on, we ascend a
hillock.  And, there are PEOPLE, standing in the sand, staring at the Irish Sea.  It
was so STRANGE!  That they were all mesmerized by..?

God, it turned out these weren’t real people, but bronze SCULPTURES!  A
HUNDRED of them.  Spread out over two miles, on this beach.

It was the highlight of my trip so far.  Art is supposed to take your breath
away.  Give you insight into life.  The juxtaposition of man and nature.  The
raw conception.  One got the concepts of loneliness, desire and humanity all
in one vision.  I couldn’t stop looking.

It’s here till 2006.  Then it moves to a complete different country. 
Actually, that’s the name of the installation, "Another Place".  That’s where it
takes you.  It’s by Antony Gormley.  The sculptures are all casts of him.

And, as we’re walking on the firm sand, Tony points into the distance and
says "Over there, that’s Wales."

It was like a living history book.  Tony could be the best teacher I’ve ever
had.