Five Little Things That Make Me Love Liverpool

I've always been the sort of person for whom the little things mean an awful lot.

A small gesture. A beautiful moment. Something so ordinary that most people might walk past without giving it a second thought.

Those things have always had a way of finding their way into my heart.

I was speaking to a friend the other day, and I told him that my eyes are in permanent search of cuteness.

And I meant every word.

“I've come to believe that happiness can be remarkably inexpensive. Sometimes, it's even free. You just have to be looking.”

And when my heart began opening up to Liverpool, I started noticing things I might otherwise have overlooked.

Not necessarily the grand architecture or the famous landmarks, although you know I love those too. I'm talking about the small, fleeting moments that happen between the bigger things. One day, I might write about a hundred things I love about Liverpool. But today, we'll start small.

1. Elderly couples holding hands

Sometimes, I'm walking along James Street, Bold Street or somewhere in the city centre, and I spot an elderly couple holding hands.

And something in me just melts.

I'm talking about couples who, from my very unofficial estimation, must be well into their eighties.

Often, one is a little stronger than the other. Sometimes it's the man. Sometimes it's the woman.

But what gets me is the tenderness.

The way they walk at each other's pace. The way one makes room for the other's unsteady steps. The way a woman might lean a little more heavily into her husband's arm, and he, not exactly bursting with youthful strength himself, adjusts to support her.

Ah.

There is something so profoundly intimate about it.

Nothing performative. Nothing dramatic. Just two people moving through the world together, with the sort of familiarity that suggests they've learnt the rhythms of each other's bodies.

They don't always need to be talking.

Sometimes, the silence itself seems comfortable.

Of course, I don't know their stories. I don't know how long they've been together, what they've survived or whether they've been married for fifty years or met five years ago.

But I find myself imagining the years behind that tenderness.

And I think about companionship.

Not just romance in its exciting, butterflies-in-your-stomach beginnings, but the quieter love that makes room for changing bodies, slower footsteps and the ordinary vulnerabilities of growing older.

In a time when so many conversations about relationships centre on everything that can go wrong, I find these moments particularly moving.

I know that longevity alone doesn't tell us whether a relationship has been happy. But there is something beautiful about the possibility of two people continuing to choose tenderness through the years.

It's something I desire for my own life.

One of my dreams is to sit with a couple who have been married for at least fifty years and simply listen.

I want to hear about the beautiful years, the difficult years, the ordinary Tuesdays, the arguments, the forgiveness, the laughter and the decisions that kept them going.

Until then, I'll keep smiling whenever I see two elderly people holding hands on the streets of Liverpool.

Sometimes, that's all it takes to make my day.

2. Little children being wonderfully, unapologetically little

If you see me smiling at absolutely nothing while sitting on a bus, there's a good chance a child is responsible.

Liverpool children are ridiculously cute.

There's something about watching a little girl twirling in a park, completely delighted with herself, or seeing a child laugh with the kind of freedom that makes you wonder when adults became so serious.

They aren't thinking about deadlines, unanswered emails, or whether their outfit looks sufficiently put together.

They're just living.

And I love that.

I also love how wonderfully outspoken children can be.

When I was teaching in schools in Northwest England, I encountered some of the sweetest, funniest and most curious little humans.

I remember one boy walking up to me and asking, with genuine bewilderment:

"Why do they call you black? You're not black. You're brown."

I burst out laughing.

Because, darling, you have a point!

I remember the reactions around him, almost as though people wanted to tell him to hush.

But what stayed with me was the innocence of his observation.

And sometimes, I think we could all do with a little more of that curiosity.

Whenever I see children playing, laughing, twirling or discovering the world with such excitement, I often find myself saying a quiet prayer.

That life will be kind to them. That they will be protected.

That they will have room to remain curious, joyful, and wonderfully themselves for as long as possible.

Because the world can be a lot.

And there's something precious about watching someone experience it before they've learnt to be afraid of every possibility.

3. That perfect combination of sunshine and a cool breeze.

Listen.

If you've lived in the UK long enough, you'll understand that good weather deserves to be celebrated.

And I'm not talking about the sort of sunshine that has you sweating before you've even left the house.

No, no, no.

I'm talking about that glorious day when the sun is shining, the sky is bright, and there's just enough of a cool breeze to make everything feel absolutely perfect.

Not freezing.

Not scorching.

Just right.

The sort of day when you can step outside without wearing so many layers that turning your neck becomes a major physical undertaking.

You can wear something simple and lovely, leave the heavy jacket behind, and actually enjoy the feeling of air against your skin.

I call it the breeze of life.

And goodness, I love it.

There's something almost therapeutic about walking through Liverpool on a day like that.

Sometimes, I genuinely feel as though God is giving us a little pat on the back and saying, Go on. Step outside. Enjoy what I've made.

And who am I to argue?

4. The way Liverpool comes alive when the sun comes out

There is something I've noticed about Scousers.

These people do not joke with good weather.

Honestly, the moment the sun comes out, it's almost as though somebody has made a public service announcement across Liverpool.

Attention, everyone. The sun is shining. Please report outside immediately.

Because how else do you explain it?

One minute, you're walking through Church Street, minding your business. The next, you're wondering where all these people have suddenly appeared from.

You're around Paradise Street and everywhere is buzzing.

People are out!

Young people. Older people. Couples. Groups of friends. Families with children. Everybody seems to have collectively decided that whatever they were doing indoors can wait.

And I absolutely love it.

You walk past the cafés and see people sitting outside, sipping their lattes, catching up with friends, laughing over conversations or simply watching the world go by.

Someone has a coffee. Someone else has a beer. Another person is sitting comfortably with absolutely no apparent intention of going anywhere.

And you know what?

Fair enough!

The weather is good. Why should they be indoors?

There's something wonderfully infectious about watching people enjoy themselves.

The laughter. The conversations. The outdoor tables filling up. The way a little sunshine seems to give the entire city permission to relax.

And what I find particularly lovely is that it's not restricted to one generation.

Everybody gets involved

Sometimes, I find myself smiling just watching it all unfold.

Because joy can be contagious, you know.

You don't even have to be part of the conversation or know the people laughing. Sometimes, simply being surrounded by people enjoying life is enough to lift your own spirits.

And perhaps that's what I enjoy most about those sunny days in Liverpool.

It's not just that the weather is beautiful.

It's that people seem determined to make something beautiful out of it.

And I love that for them.

I love that for us.

5. The little conversations that turn strangers into companions

One thing I've come to enjoy about living here is how an ordinary journey can turn into an unexpectedly lovely conversation.

And I've learnt that, in Britain, the weather is practically a universal conversation starter.

Don’t you know what to say?

Talk about the weather.

Works beautifully. Everytime.

I remember sitting beside a man on the bus once. He looked rather interesting, as though he was dressed for somewhere important.

So I said, "Are you all right?"

He said he was.

Then I tried the classic.

"Good weather, isn't it?"

And just like that, we were talking.

I asked where he was headed, and he told me his wife had given him tickets to see a show. It was her birthday gift to him, and he seemed genuinely excited about it.

It wasn't a particularly long conversation.

We didn't exchange numbers or promise to keep in touch. We simply talked for a little while before continuing with our separate days.

But I remember how sweet it felt.

Two strangers, sharing a small piece of their lives on a bus.

I've had many moments like that.

Sometimes it's a conversation during a journey. Sometimes something unexpected happens, a road is blocked or the bus is delayed, and suddenly everyone is acknowledging the same inconvenience.

There's this little unspoken feeling of, Well, we're all in this together now, aren't we?

I've felt it on outings too, including a trip on the Mersey Ferry, where being out with other people and sharing the experience made the journey even more enjoyable.

I love those little moments of camaraderie.

The conversations that don't need to lead anywhere.

The smiles exchanged over something amusing.

The way people who were strangers five minutes earlier can briefly become companions because they happen to be sharing the same space.

I think we underestimate how much warmth these small interactions can bring into a day.

And there you have it.

Five little things that make my heart happy in Liverpool.

Just people being tender with each other. Children being children. Sunshine finding its way through the clouds. The city coming alive when the sun is out and strangers reminding one another, sometimes without even realising it, that we're sharing this world.

I've come to realise that when you begin to pay attention to these things, they multiply.

What are some of the little things that make you happy in Liverpool?

I'd genuinely love to know. Perhaps there's something you've noticed that I've been walking past all this time.

With love,

Jesuloba Grace