'The atmosphere in the city is fantastic and everyone just mingles happily together'

Lee Mottershead discovers the city of Liverpool full of pride before the start of the Grand National meeting

PREPARING for the Grand National is a serious business. It requires careful planning and total dedication. Venetia Williams will tell you that and so will the ladies getting themselves primed to perfection in the Lime Street salon of Barbara Daley Hair and Beauty.

To be in Liverpool the day before the sport begins is to see a city proud of its race. A huge poster advertising the National fills the side wall of a large hotel, pubs promote racing breakfasts and the window display of Lewis's department store, about to close its doors after 154 years of trading, has female mannequins dressed in posh frocks riding cardboard horses.

Yet such has been Aintree's success in promoting the Friday of its fixture that, in these parts at least, Ladies' Day has become almost as popular as the National. That is certainly the case at Barbara's, where Becky Smith, a stylist, and Christina Garrity, an art director (she's more expensive), are looking forward to their day at the races.

"I bought my outfit weeks ago," says Becky, who will dazzle in a black jumpsuit. "I had my nails done last night, today I'm chilling and tomorrow I'll have a spray tan. I'll be in here to have my hair done at half-seven on Friday and then it'll be make-up at eight. After that, it's a champagne breakfast, go home, get changed and then off to the races."

Christina, whose employer sells "Lavish Lashes" for £120, has a fancy for Saturday's showpiece.

"I like Big Fella Thanks," she reveals. "I've been told his owner's a mad Liverpool supporter and he's got a good jockey on him, the one with the grey hair."

On the subjects of Ruby Walsh's locks and Harry Findlay's football leanings, Christina is well informed. But can she fry an egg? Trevor Irving fried mine this morning and, before working as a hotel chef, cooked at Aintree.

"I think the Grand National is brilliant," says Trevor. "The atmosphere in the city is fantastic for all three days and everyone just mingles happily together. When you come to Liverpool, you come to a place with a warm heart. Our home is your home."

Trevor, however, will not be placing a wager. "I don't bet any more," he says. "I've only ever had one bet and I ended up marrying her. I still can't get her over the hurdles."

In a city centre Ladbrokes shop, a man is avidly watching virtual dogs jumping virtual hurdles. A polite request for his views on the National are not received kindly.

"No, no, no," he says, showing no interest in the world's greatest horserace while simultaneously tearing up three betting slips made worthless following the 10.42 from Lucksin Downs.

More enthused by the 4.15 from Aintree is Margaret Slater, who brushes soapy suds off the steps of a Bold Street bar.

"My boss knows that for the next three days this pub is going to be battered," she says before offering her punting pointers.

"I'll always back the number nine cos my dad used to do that. I also like the ones where the jockey has a red jumper. I only bet once a year, but I'll still probably spend £10 on Saturday. I won't let my husband put the bets on, though. He's unlucky for me."

Margaret says "ta-ra", which makes me smile, as does road worker Kenny Cooper, who is "putting up bollards to prevent traffic abuse of the footways". Naughty motorists, these Scousers.

"The Grand National gets bigger and bigger every year," he says. "It's great for the city. Alongside the Beatles and Anfield, it's the thing people most associate with Liverpool." (Sorry Cilla.)

"I'd like Tony McCoy to win it," adds Kenny. "You could see it meant so much to him when he won on Binocular at Cheltenham, and I think winning the National would be the same.

"I don't mind, though. As long as no horses get hurt and everyone has a good time, it'll be great."