Some cities don’t know when they’re blessed. Much of my new novel, She’s
Leaving Home, is set in the Liverpool of the Sixties and celebrates its
burgeoning music scene, its energy and its wonderful buildings. Liverpool
has more Grade 2-listed buildings than any other city outside London. Those
who know it aren’t surprised. While I was researching my book, I spent days
tramping its streets and docks, its waterfront and its Georgian terraces.

What comes as a shock is the news that this cityscape is now at risk. Today,
the city is being asked to approve a £5.5 billion development that will
dwarf its famous “three graces” waterfront landmarks – the Royal Liver
Building, the Cunard and Port of Liverpool Buildings – with a thicket of
skyscrapers. If the skyscrapers that have already sprouted there are
anything to go by, its future will be one of tasteless uniformity.

Liverpool was designated a World Heritage Site in 2004. Unesco has looked into
the plans and says the development – 9,000 apartments, hundreds of offices –
will overwhelm the site and put it on the “World Heritage in Danger” list.
The Liverpool Preservation Trust has launched a campaign. The Victorian
Society is up in arms. English Heritage has objected. The Department for
Culture, Media and Sport is being drawn into the conflict. The meeting
happens today.

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The season of literary festivals is now in full swing. Last weekend I was at
Bath; next weekend I’ll be in Keswick. Writers are criss-crossing the
country, meeting up in green rooms, snatching meals together to catch up on
gossip, and going readily before a public that loves – and buys – books.
Between writers and readers there is a happy camaraderie of shared passion.

At Bath, Michael Holroyd, who has declared he will write no more biographies,
was asked: suppose he was offered a cache of surprising letters, might he be
tempted? His answer: “it depends how you spell ‘cache’.”