Hullo Old Home [Archive] - Yo! Liverpool Community Forum

brian daley

08-03-2007, 04:59 PM

Lodge Lane was a funny old thoroughfare,the road was made of wooden blocks,not that we thought it was funny then,it was just our road!
The sound that horses hooves made was lovely,a kind of hollow clip clop.And there were many horses then,the bin wagons were all horse drawn,as were the railway delivery wagons,bread wagons,brewers drays and some haulage companies still had them.There was a tram line down the middle and,I think,it was the 26 and the 27 that used it.When we first moved in, a lot of the shops were empty,bomb and fire damage had seen to that.Gradually,the shops were fitted out,piecemeal,and the new occupants moved in.
Bessie Holden opened a grocers shop 2 doors down from our street.She seemed a lovely woman and she allowed Mum tick to make things easier.
We were still in a fatherless state,money was scarce and, to make things easier, my Granddad Hengler insisted we spent every Sunday at their house so that we would have proper meal each week.They lived in Eton street right next door to Goodison;although avowed protestants they were all Evertonians in that house.
Jess and I loved going there on a Sunday,it was a happy house,my Mum was one of eleven children ,one had been killed in that awful place "the War" and all but 2 of her siblings were married with children.So we had cousins galore.The 2 offspring still at home were still in their teens and used to take us to Stanley Park when the weather was fine,it had a lovely glasshouse and a lido ,as well as the swings and boating lake.When I reflect on those moments of ancient sunlight ,I see the flower beds in full bloom and hear the sound of the cuckoo clock,marking the passing of the hours.When my uncles and aunts were courting they would take us on the walks through the park almost as chaperones,whatever ,they always bought us ice cream and took us on the boats.
Walton was on a different planet to Toxteth.Mum would stay at home on those Sundays,which meant that my 7 year old sister was responsible for getting us to Walton and back,never gave it a thought then,now the social services would have had us taken into care.
As '46 iced its way into '47,Mum was always being sick and had grown fat,Christmas came and went and she seemed no better.My dad had now assumed mythical status,my mates did'nt believe I had one,amongst my Mums kin he was always referred to,scathingly,as that Billy Daley.
Everything seemed to be his fault;I wanted him to take us home but he never ever came.January '47 was bleak,cold and snowy and ,to top it all coal was rationed,I can remember queueing up at the coal /coke yard in Crown Street ,hoping to get some fuel.Things got progressively worse,early in February my Mum went into labour and I had an accident.Because it was snowing and my Mum had had her bed moved into the living room,Jess and I played in the cellar .The landladys' two sons were playing there with some other big boys and they let us join in.They were playing pirates and we were to be their captives.It was a good game,until they decided to put me in "prison".This was an old disused gas stove,it still had its old iron shelves in ,but nobody knew that when they threw me in.I was slung in by the back of my collar and trousers and flew face first on to the sharp edge of a shelf.It opened my cheek to the bone and blood was gushing everywhere.I was frogmarched up the stairs,but Mum was in no fit state to do anything.There was a woman who lived half wadown the street who I was scared of,not because of anything she did ,or said,but because she looked fierce.Mrs King was her name,somehow she got to hear of our predicament and she came and took me to hospital.She was kindness itself,her looks belied her nature and I was too young to know about consumption.
She waited with me in Myrtle Street while they stitched me up,and when she took me home I was taken into to see my newborn sister Bette.
So ,I have 2 reminders of that cold,cold night in February, a sister and a scar.
I'll be back,
BrianD

lindylou

08-03-2007, 06:13 PM

I enjoyed reading about Stanley park. Those were the days when it was a proper family park.
Unfortunately it is now a shadow of it's former self.

CHRISMIZ

08-04-2007, 12:08 AM

So ,I have 2 reminders of that cold,cold night in February, a sister and a scar.
I'll be back,
BrianD

Love it Brian,hoping to hear more :handclap:

brian daley

08-04-2007, 02:21 AM

Winter tightened its icy grip after my sister was born,the snow brought all transport to a halt and that meant no fuel for anyone.
It was not long before our hearth was empty,no coal meant no fire,no fire meant no cooking.It must have been hell for my mother,3 kids to feed and no chance of doing it.
We got up one morning to find that the road had been stolen!All of those wooden blocks had been dug up overnight and there was black smoke curling out of chimney pots up and down the lane.But not from our chimney.
My Granddad turned up that day and took us all back to his house in Eton Street,just 6 doors away from Goodison,(this was protestant Granddad,an avid Evertonian!!)
The feeling of relief that we felt at being taken into a clean,warm, house was immeasurable.My Gran was of the old school,her house glowed with shining brasswork and mansion polished furniture,The floors were covered with linoleum and strewn with home made rugs.The electric lights meant we could read at night time and the radio brought music and laughter into our lives.
My baby sister was so small that she had a drawer for a cot.With feather beds and counter panes, our cup was running over.
I used to go with Grandma to get the "rations",the shopkeepers in County Rd. all knew Maggie Hengler and I would often get slipped an apple by the greengrocer,a cake by the baker a biscuit by the grocer, and sometimes,if I was lucky, a piece of slab chocolate by the lady in Meesons.
This was a fair exchange for helping Grandma carry a few packages.
My Grandparents had raised 11 children,and had excercised a regime of discipline to keep them in line.They were'nt cruel,our presence in their house was proof of that,nor were they harsh,they just expected children to be well behaved and if they stepped out of line,they got strapped with a leather tawse.
Their children were now adults and lots of them had children of their own,but that tawse still hung on the wall by the door to the kitchen.
One Saturday,Grandma was getting ready to go for the rations and, when I went for my coat,she told me I could'nt go with her.I asked her why,thinking of Meesons,and she told me I could'nt because it was a" Surprise"
As she left the house I started to imagine what the surprise could be.
In my fevered 5 year old imagination the surprise took on many guises,a box of sweets,a Dinky car, a toy gun;I eventually settled on it being a box of lead soldiers.Thats what she'd meant,yes, a box of the Kings Guardsmen in bearskins and bright red jackets ,we'd seen them in the toy shop window last week.
I sat on the step awaiting her return,I ran to her when I saw come in sight ,relieving her of one of her bags I hurried back to 69 to look for my box of soldiers.Granddad was sitting at the dinner table, picking out his horses for his afternoon bet,I started pulling the stuff out of the bag,there was nothing in that bag, and when Grandma came in I stood on tiptoe waiting for her to empty that bag too.There were no soldiers...........just spuds carrots and assorted groceries."Wheres me sojers" I shouted,Grandma looked puzzled."What soldiers?","My Surprise Sojers" I shouted back.
Granddad was nonplussed" Get in here Jessie" he called to my Mum in the Kitchen.(She related this story to me years afterwards.)" Theres no soldiers ,no surprise ,now behave youself" Grandma shouted.
"****in Bastid" I yelped,............she reached for the tawse and hissed"What did you say?","****in Bastid",I replied ,the tawse lashed across my face ,"****in Bastid",lash and so it went for a dozen times until Granddad grabbed her arm and told her to stop.
From that day on , I added fear and respect to the love I felt for Grandma.When Spring returned ,we packed our bags and went back to Mozart Street.
We still went to Grandmas every Sunday,somehow Mum had got us kitted out in Sunday best to make the journey,she did'nt want us to look like the Bisto kids.With these new clothes we became members of the "Indigo Club".
On getting home of a Sunday night our clothes were neatly folded and wrapped in a brown paper parcel,ready to be taken to the pawnshop first thing Monday morning.The cash we got, paid for our school dinners for the week.
There used to be a long line of kids outside of Uncles every Monday morning.Indigo Monday, out de come Saturday.And thats the way it stayed until Dad came home.
'Til next time,
BrianD

Kev

08-04-2007, 08:46 AM

Soon I'm going to have to make a thread all of its own for these wonderful memories

brian daley

08-04-2007, 02:19 PM

So we're back in Mozart Street,how to tell of that awful abode?
Our living room had a Dinner table 2 dining chairs and a chaise longue. There was a kitchen cupboard beneath the gas mantle and a wall cupboard alongside the hearth.No tablecloths or matching crockery,last nights Echo was our napery and we ate off plates courtesy of Cunard and other great shipping lines.
I could'nt take friends home,there was nothing they could have done,no play room.I suppose I felt ashamed of how we lived,but we got by.The house on the opposite corner was occupied by 2 families,the Browns and the Heslops.
Our houses were as different as chalk and cheese,where ours was dark and gloomy,theirs was full of light and life.
Maggie and Eddie Brown were fabulous people,they had 5 children ,3 girls and twin boys,they very quickly made friends with our small family and that made a change for the better in our lives.
Maggie and Eddie knew how kids worked,we wanted magic and excitement in
our lives and they created it in many ways.The biggest room the first floor was made into a childrens playroom,there was a dolls house , a rocking horse and boxes and boxes of toys.All of them made by Eddie,he also had a giant meccano set and had built a scale model of the transporter bridge.
Only the children of that house and my sister and me were allowed in that room,it was a little bit of paradise.Eddie also had a hand cranked film projector and would sometime screen old silent comedies.
Downstairs,in the cellar,they had converted the old kitchen into a family room.There was a big hearth with a great brass fender,which was big enough to seat three adults.Most days would find Maggie,Mum and Mrs Heslop sitting there supping tea and setting the world to rights.
Of a night time the room would be occupied by us kids as Maggie told us the tallest of tales of the time she lived with the Red Indians in America.
She peopled her stories with characters so real that we each identified with a particular one ,not realising that those characters were based on us.
We kids were putty in Maggies hands,this is what she could do........I'm playing ollies with my mates,she and Eddie are sitting on their step,she waves to me,"Come here Brian",I scoop my ollies up and run over to her,"What ?" I ask,"Eddie and me have been watching you,and I told him you looked just like Wakplonk the young Indian brave I told you about" I was Gobsmacked,me ,like an Indian Brave!"Eddie said that he did'nt think you could run as fast as Wakplonk,but I told him that I thought you could"
Just let me prove it,I thought ,she could read us like books.
"Wakplonk could run a mile before the Big Chief could count a hundred,now Costigans is about the same distance,so ,if you run there and back I'll count and we'll see if I'm right.Oh by the way,get me six rashers of bacon while you're there".With that she'd stuff the money and coupons in your hand and you would take off to the sound of her counting aloud,"One,two................"
When you came dashing back,there she'd be,still on the step," Ninety eight ,ninety nine,There you are Eddie ,I told you he was faster."
I was a sucker but I loved it.
Ahh,those shops in Lodge Lane.There was a gradual renovation of all the vacant properties we had the new grocers, Holdens and a toy and model shop opened next to hers,at the end of that block a greengrocers opened Percy's it was called and we got more than potatoes from there,the son of the owner became my baby sisters husband a couple of decades later.
The shop for us kids though was Dickie Woods.It was ancient,dark and grubby,it was more a cave than a shop,but Dickie would let you buy a comic for threepence and buy it back off you for tuppence!!You'd see kids sitting outside on the window ledge,heads stuck into this weeks Beano and then going back inside ,coming back out with a pennyworth of chews.
It all came to an end one dark November night.
On the way to school we saw policemen outside Dickies shop,There was a buzz going round that something terrible had happened the night before.
In assembly rumours were flying around the room when we we called to silence by the presence of the Headmistress,Miss Bell.Those of you who had met her will remember her fierce countenance,she had iron grey hair that looked like was electified,she never wore make up and had very masculine features.She always wore tweed suits,lisle stockings an brogues.It was rumoured that she smoked a pipe.
That morning she strode across the stage,a wild look in her eyes.Thrusting her arm out and pointing a trembling finger at us primary school kid,she shrieked,"Murderers!!!!"The finger swept around the hall like a search light,"One of you killed Mrs.Woods",she thundered."You know what happens to murderers?"We blanched,each one of us trying to look not guilty,"THEY HANG!!!!!"
You could smell the fear in the room as she told us what had happened.
Some miscreant had gone into Dickies and bought a banger firework off his Mum,a half blind,deaf old lady.They lit the banger and gave it back to her,whereupon it exploded in her hand and she dropped dead of the shock.
We kids were terribly cruel,when we got in the playground we were screaming with laughter,saying "bang,you're dead"
Thats all for now folks
BrianD

.

iain

08-05-2007, 01:19 AM

It's a late welcome from me Brian but welcome to Yo and happy posting, it's been great reading your tales so far!

brian daley

08-05-2007, 10:46 AM

HI Iain,
Thank you for your warm welcome,I'm beginning to feel at home here.
I clicked on your pictures and I thought they were wonderful.You have the eye of an artist!I could say so much more,suffice to say, they bring the viewer enjoyment,
Cheers
BrianD

lindylou

08-07-2007, 12:40 PM

Brian you must write a book ! :handclap:

I'll be reading some of this to my dad who was brought up around the County rd area. I'm sure he will remember the greengrocers and Meesons.
:PDT11

brian daley

08-07-2007, 01:11 PM

My sister Jess and I were inseperable from the Brown family,Margaret,who was known by all and sundry as Chicken,was our leader.She was a year or two older than my sister and was very worldly wise.
Her two sisters were Joan and Rosalie,Joan was a older than me, by about a year,and Rosalie,who was my age.Rowley,or Rollie,how do you spell a nickname?, was my mate.She had a happy disposition,blonde curly hair and a lovely smile.Truth be known,I was half in love with her.
Those long ago summer days would find us trailing off to the parks,Sefton and Princes,where there were lots of things to fill our days.
In Sefton Park there was an open air theatre where they had lots of shows,we penniless kids would stand outside the railings ,enjoying for free some wonderful entertainments.I developed a love of the of the theatre whilst watching those shows.
The boating lake was another of our favourite places,watching the model yachts skimming across the waters,their "captains" ashore watching over their course,I was thrilled when one of the boat owners would call across the lake for us to turn their boat around when it neared our side.
We would watch enviously at the families in the little motor boats,chugging their way around the vast expanses of that wonderful lake.Would we ever ride on one of those?
Now ,I don't know how Chicken managed it,I'm just happy that she did,but one magical afternoon she disappeared from our party there at the lakeside,had she gone for a pee? No,oh no,about ten minutes after leaving us she returned.............in a motorboat.It was driven by a big ,burly man,who had his little daughter by his side.She was exquisitely pretty and dressed in the nicest clothes I had ever seen in real life.He looked foriegn,like a Lebanese,and was wearing a light, pastel coloured,suit.
He pulled the boat into the shore and waved at us to get aboard!!!
Chicken had that kind of magic,she got us many more rides with that man that summer and I used to dream of being rich enough of being able to dress and live like him.
In Princes Park,Chicken had the ice cream situation sorted out.Ice cream was an unattainable luxury for us back entry diddlers.We could,at a push afford a ice lolly between the five of us but an ice cream cornet! Dream on.
One day Chicken introduced us to a lovely old man she had met in the maze,he had a kind face and he could do little conjuring tricks which kept us all amused.After watching his little "show" he would buy us each an ice cream,that was real magic.
After the parks,the "pictures" was our next best form of escape.Those Saturday matinees,with the serials,cartoons and the big picture,which would invariably be a western.Oh how we loved those westerns,Gene Autry,Tex Ritter,Roy Rogers and all of the rest of those heroes from that make believe world where the goodies wore white hats and the baddies(with the exception of Hoppy),wore black ones.
I was an emotional kid,if the cowboy lost his dog,I'd get upset,but if he lost his horse..........There was a scene at the end of a Gene Autry wessie,where his horse had been killed by the badmen,and after getting his revenge,Gene was walking into the distance while up above in the clouds,Tony his horse was galloping through heaven,while Gene walked on to the end credits with Tonys saddle over his shoulder and "Empty Saddles in the Old Corral"played out the film.I sat there blubbering as the lights came on and the usherette,who just passing my seat looked and asked "Whats the matter son?"And I replied "Its all the cigarette smoke Missus"
You might ask yourself,"how could we afford the pictures?" Well at the tender ages that we were Jess and I had a little job in the timber yard that was next door to our house.The man there used to sell bundles of firewood that were made up from the odds and ends of his"leftovers".We would make the sticks up into bundles by by dropping them into a mould and tying them with a wire ,it was'nt hard work but it earned us threepence each a night,enough for the pictures and an ice cream too.
The Pavilion theatre at the top of Lodge Lane was a place that Mum and Maggie could always scrape the cash together for when there was something special for the kids.It was always an early evening show that we went to with acts like Old Mother Riley,George Formby,Sandy Powell etc.
I was enchanted by the theatre,the auditorium,the lights,the proscenium arch and the rich draperies all combined to create an impression that was fantastical.As you sat in the gods and beheld the scene,the fire curtain with the colourful adverts for the local shops,the musicians bustling about in the orchestra stalls,and the audience, settling in their seats,waiting for the lights to go down and the tap of the conductors baton signalling the overture as the band sounded the beginning of the evenings entertainment.
I was well and truly stage struck,I did'nt just want to be part of the audience,I wanted to be on that stage,entertaining.
I was to get an opportunity to do just that sooner than I would have believed.
Thats another story
Brian

robbo176

08-07-2007, 01:25 PM

I love reading your stories & I agree with LindyLou you really must write a book :handclap::handclap::handclap:

brian daley

08-07-2007, 05:47 PM

Thanks for your kind remarks,I wish I could write a book,it seems too great
a task and I would rather have your approbation than the rejection of some profit only publisher.
Writing this has given me a great deal of peace,I have known what I wanted to tell of;I did'nt know whether anyone out there wanted to hear it.
I want those of you who take the time to read this,to know that my world has been peopled with some wonderful characters,and I only hope that I am up to the task of doing them justice,

I'm off to have a madeleine,
BrianD

brian daley

08-07-2007, 09:36 PM

For many years I have had memories that would be better left unspoken;they want out and I can no more stop them than I can stop the sun rising tomorrow.
It is still the year of 1947 and,after the harsh winter, we were rewarded with a gentle spring followed by a warm summer.
I was becoming a little more aware of the world I lived in and was becoming to understand that "The War" was not a place but something that moved around..........There was now a war in the land where Jesus was born, Palestine ,I still could'nt make out what wars were or who an "Enemy" was,but they were out there ,and my uncles were involved in them.
One summers eve,Delly,Ikey,Bernie and me were playing at the top of our street when a different sound came drifting down the lane,it was hard to tell what it was.Like when you hear the distant sounds of a band,the sound just a whisper above the street noise,then growing louder as it nears.
We could'nt make head or tail of this sound,we could hear a mass of voices,indistinct,and the sounds of crumps and tinkles.
We shot past the watching eyes of our parents and hared off up the Lane to get a look.The sight we beheld was hard to take in,there were hundreds of men and boys filling the road,yelling at the tops of their voices. Shop fronts were being smashed in and all manner of foodstuffs and goods littered the pavement.Bousefields, the greengrocers,had its wooden shutters pulled off and people were passing out fruit and vegetables.It was like a devils banquet,we did'nt know why it was happening. it just was.
We filled our pockets with apples as all around us chaos reigned.
There were some smartly dressed men in the crowd who looked like policemen and we prepared to run in case they caught hold of us,but ,to our surprise, they pointed to Platts sweetshop and told us to help ourselves.
Could this be true? "Go on lads,get the Jew boys sweets" This was official?
We tore over to the sweetshop and started stuffing our pockets with as many sweets as we could get in them.As I was doing this,I could see, Mr Platt crouching behind the remains of his counter,his arms around his little daughter, protecting her from the ravening mob.Young as I was,I burned with shame.We emptied our pockets and made our way back to our street.
I did'nt know about the Holocaust,had'nt heard of Belsen ,Dachau or Auschwitz.I did'nt know about the Yids or the Jews,but I was hearing about them now.
The crowd were chanting "The Yids ,The Yids ,We've Gotta get rid of the Yids!!!"
As we neared Mozart St, we saw a crowd of people standing around the lamp post on the corner,there was a man who appeared to be standing on something,we could'nt see what,but he was head and shoulders above the crowd.Was it a meeting,outside our house?
There was jeering and yelling,and as we got closer we could see that the man was wearing a green cow gown.It was the man from the Chandlers shop next door but one to our house.He was wearing a noose!
The rope was thrown over the arm of the gas lamp and he was standing aloft,his shoulders slumped and his eyes expressionless.
There was a womans voice coming from the middle of the crowd,it was so filled with rage that it was frightening to hear.we climbed on the windowlege of the butchers shop opposite to get a better look.
It was my Mum,whirling around like a dervish,brandishing our meat knife,screaming at them to" F@@k Off!!!".The men at the front were trying to push away from her wrath .Then,thankfully some men charged in and started dragging the thugs away.And all the while that green coated figure stood on that chair,resigned to his fate?
Many years later I was in a slaughter house in Brisbane and saw sheep walking up the ramp to their imminent deaths with that same look in their eyes.
I dropped my apples in the gutter as the crowd dispersed, and ran to Mum, my tigress.
I learned at school that two British soldiers had been hung in an orange grove in Palestine ,................and Mr Platt and our Chandler were to blame?????
Pretty soon life returned to its regular rhythyms,the summer holidays would soon be upon us and we had games to play,errands to run and money to earn.
It's still '47,and a boy could not be seen without an old bicycle wheel(spokeless
of course) or a car tyre.How else were you to get about?
I was one of the lucky ones for I had found an old car tyre on a bomb site in Granby St.All you needed to make it go was a short stout stick.You just gave an initial push and then twocked it with you stick to keep it in motion.
A boy coud go places with the right tyre.We would even race each other ,
bike wheels versus tyres.The bike wheels were faster ,but noisy,you got a smooth silent ride with a tyre.
I was going towards St Bedes church one day,gently coasting along in first
(thats one Twonk a second ) when this car shrieked to a halt,smoke coming from its tyres.A fat man jumped out and ran over to me,he grabbed the tyre and had a good look at it" ere Yar kid " he said as he thrust half a crown into my hand and and drove off with my tyre.I'd lost my only means of transport,but gained a blooming fortune.
It was off to Capaldis for my mates and me,ice cream cornets and tall fizzy drinks all round.
You think ,life can't get any better than this,but it does,oh yes it does,and its still only summertime!
Sweet Summertimes of days gone by,
more ......soon?
BrianD

CHRISMIZ

08-07-2007, 10:38 PM

I hope there's lots more to come Brian, keep up the good work, I'm addicted

PhilipG

08-08-2007, 02:32 AM

Brian.
I wish my memory was a fraction as good as yours, but even though I'm only about 5 years younger than you, I didn't go through the things you did.
Your last memories started out by reminding me of the riots in 1981, which I witnessed in Lodge Lane, but as your story went on to describe Jews' shops getting looted, and in 1947 (when the world was supposed to be learning about the Holocaust), I was very surprised.
I don't doubt you for a minute, but it just proves that not so long ago we were only told the news that the establishment wanted us to hear.
We were told about Jews being persecuted in Germany in the 1930s which eventually led to "The Final Solution", but that was all done by the Nazi's.
Not once were we told that things that were happening in Germany in the 1930s were happening in England in the 1940s.
I'm saving all your writings.
Thank you.

Ange

08-08-2007, 05:05 AM

Brian,

Your stories are truly captivating, I really look forward to reading more!

Well done :handclap::),

Ange.

brian daley

08-08-2007, 10:02 AM

Hi Phillip,
I can understand how you feel,so many people have no udea of what happened that night in '47.
I have been haunted by those events for 60 years.I never read about them anywhere,as the years went by,my Mum would say "Oh it was'nt like that" and my elder sister had no recollection at all.
But the images would not go away,this could'nt be imagination,surely not?
A friend of mine loaned me a novel last year,it was about a Jewish girl who fell in love with a Christian boy in post-war Liverpool.It was a fairly pedestrian story but the description of Liverpool 8 in the 40s were very good.And then there it was, the Toxteth riot!!
I was'nt dreaming,it had happened.
Yesterday,I entered the the above heading into my search engine and was faced with the bigger picture.Do it yourself,you will see that the singers of the siren songs,those peddlers of the old lies, were active then ,as they are today,They wrap themselves in the flag of our fathers and lead the simple to that road that leads to smashed up shops and a green coated man standing on a chair with a rope around his neck.
I'll be back with a happier tale
BrianD

brian daley

08-08-2007, 07:53 PM

With the coming of autumn,Maggie and my Mum enrolled the girls in a dance troupe,I was mortified,I wanted to be on stage;was'nt I going to be a Hollywood star?If I was going to get some practise,I needed to be in that troupe.
After much whinging on my part,everyone agreed that I could join.Those girls could smell talent and I knew I had it in aces.
The rehearsal rooms were over a shop half way up the Lane;Madame Cox,the owner of the troupe,was a tall glamorous lady,quite unlike the women who frequented the pawnbrokers queue.
The rehearsals were very hard work,having two left did'nt help,but I knew I would come good.
We spent weeks practising the same steps,it could have been boring as hell but for the fact that there were some very beautiful girls in the dance group.I was five and a half(but six and a half for school purposes and four and a half on the trams)and I really liked girls,one girl that I developed a crush on,Brenda,had legs taller than me.She was gorgeous,and I was her slave;I dont think she knew I existed,but you know how it is when you're a kid.
Our gang did'nt spend all its time rehearsing,there were still some days of summer left and we spent these in the park.
One Saturday we were sitting by the lake watching the model yachts tacking to and fro,when one neared the bank where we were sitting.I pulled off my pumps and waded in to turn it round when all of a sudden I plunged into deep water.To this day I don't know how deep it was in that particular place,just that it was deep enough for me to sink without a trace.
I watched the waters closing over my head, the sun, shimmering into nothingness.Down I went and a blackness came upon me,I gulped and and everything went silent.
I came to on the bank with Jess and Chicken kneeling beside me, they had dragged me out and got help to give me artificial respiration.
I was shivering because everything was wet through,there were no rides with our fat man that day.
Everyone was sworn to silence because,we thought,if our mothers found out it would be the end of our trips to the park.I was O.K. afterwards,but I had a terrible fear of the water for years .
Well,Christmas was in the offing and we were practising routines for a Panto at the David Lewis,we were dressed as soldiers,in sleeveless red coats,white shorts with a stripe of red and gold braid,red tap shoes and it was all topped off by a little red pill box hat.
The 5 of us were taken by our Mums to a photographic studio on the London Rd. where we had several pictures taken.
We were all so proud of ourselves and I wish that I had some of those pictures now,but they were lost in the mists of time.
The troupe did a show at a military hospital before the Panto,it was great because the audience were special.There were a lot of men in wheel chairs ,with every kind of dressing,behind them sat the walking wounded,the hall was packed to the rafters and all I can remember is the sound of non-stop applause and cheering.
The journey home on the coach was electric,if this was show business then roll on the Panto!
The day duly arrived when it was time for the show,this time the mums and dads ,and aunts and uncles ,would be in the audience.This was the big time,watch out Gene Kelly,Daleys on the way!
Being the only boy in the teenies line up ,as well as being the smallest child ,they put me at the head of the line to lead the dancers on.The orchestra struck up,we we went onto to our steps and,as we got half way across the stage,I spotted Grandma and some of my aunts,so I stopped to wave hello.The only trouble was,the rest of the line carried on dancing !!
That scene got the biggest laugh of the evening........and I was'nt chucked out of the group.
Christmas was just around the corner and New Year was going to bring us a big surprise.
Til next time,
BrianD

brian daley

08-10-2007, 04:45 PM

As Christmas drew nearer the shops in the Lane began to take on a festive appearance;a new model shop had opened next door to Bessie Holdens.
The window was full of the best models and train sets that I had ever seen.There were aircraft hanging from the ceiling and boxes of train sets,dinky cars and trucks,it was nice to just stand and look.Best not to wish though,we were old enough to know that those toys would not be in our stockings that year.
There were one or two other shops up the lane that had window displays that were nice to look,we would stand with our noses pressed to the window,pointing at toys and saying "I bags that!" You were not allowed to bags something if someone else had bagged it first.
The best treat we had was when Grandma took us to the Grotto in Lewis's.
They used to pull out all the stops,one year they had a "Magic Carpet Ride To Santas Workshop".We children were led by one of Santas helpers through a tunnel and ,at the end of it we were led on to the "Magic Carpet",There was a moving screen on either side of the room,at the carpets edge ,and this gave us the impression that we were flying through the air,over different countries,until we came in to land at the North Pole.
A door opened in front of us and we were led into the presence of Santa.
All our cares were left behind because we believed.we were handed a little gift and walked out sparkling.
It was only when Grandma took me to T.J.Hughes and then on to Frosts on the way home that I began to wonder how Santa could have got there before us and why was his beard and hat different?
We children were plagued with that conundrum for just a few years,but was'nt it lovely to have that belief?
We were going to spend Christmas at Grandmas,that meant we would be sleeping in real beds,have the radio,comics and,best of all,be surrounded by our many Aunties and Uncles.
Grandma had pictures of her children scattered on walls throughout the house.They were mostly hand coloured pictures and we had grown up knowing them as just being part of the background.But there were two that were special,one was of a handsome young man in a Petty Officers naval uniform,that was Uncle Tom who was "lost" in the war,the other was quite unique,it was'nt a photograph but a very good crayon portrait.It was done in various shades of green and,when I first became aware of it,I thought it was a picture of a film star.This was my Uncle Bill.
He was my Mums favourite Brother.Trouble was he had been away from home for 11 years and we kids just knew him by the storys that were told about him.
When he was 15 he stole some money from a slot machine in a fairground,he was caught and given a clip round the ear.He was afraid that the men would go around to the police and that they would go around to his parents.So great was his fear of the punishment he might receive,that he ran away.
My Mum told me that the family were frantic with worry,days turned into weeks ,weeks turned into months,and there was still no word from Billy.
Twelve months had passed when Grandma received a letter from an officer in charge of a regiment that was about to be posted to India.It was 1935,the Raj was still in existence and young Billy Hengler was being sent out to keep the King Emperors peace.
Granddad and Grandma we invited down for the embarkation parade.
They were down to Lime Street ,taking the next train to London.They were going to bring Billy home.
They came back the next day,without Billy.
Grandma said that when she saw how much her son had changed,how smart and well mannered he had become,and the Colonel telling her that her son was a credit to the regiment,she felt she had to let him go.
They were in India when the war broke out and he came home the long way,via Egypt ,Iraq,Persia,Sicily,Italy,Austria and Germany.
I had never met him but he was one of my very first childhood heroes.
11 long years....... I was sitting in the hallway by Grandmas front door,Mum was bent over her bucket scrubbing the front doorstep when the sound of a big engine came up the street.A car in Eton Street?I ran to the door and looked,the most fantastical car I had ever seen came growling up the street.I now know that it was a Wehrmacht staff car.It was covered in badges and pennants and was driven by a man so handsome that I could'nt believe he was real.I had never seen a really suntanned person before.The car was open topped and the driver braked to a halt outside Grandmas door.
He looked at me and winked ,as though we were sharing a joke.He was in shirtsleeves but wearing his beret.He did'nt get out of the car,he leaped out of it! Jumping over the car door ,he tweaked Mums bottom and she swung round,hitting him with her floorcloth.I was amazed,who was he?There was a short moment before Mum screamed "BILLY!!!!"
Pandemonium broke out all around me Grandma and aunty Betty came hurtling down the hallway,neighbours came running across the street and that was the start of one of the biggest parties I had seen in my young life.
The days passed in a whirlwind of activity and we children were heartbroken when our magic Uncle Bill had to go to some place called Demob.
So this Christlmas at Grandmas was going to be extra special for not only would Uncle Bill be home but so would our Uncle Charley,he was cook in the Merchant Navy and always managed to bring a little something from those foreign places he sailed to.
Although we would be considered poor by todays standards ,we were rich in the relatives we had around us.Christmas Day was spent at Grandmas,all of her Children were there, and their children too .The womenfolk had all taken a hand at preparing the food for that day.........the table was groaning with Christmas fayre.A goose was our bird,no poncey turkeys or chickens.The goose was more than just a meal,it provided the fat that would be rubbed on our chests when we had a cold and was good for making gravy too!!
After christmas tea we would play the traditional party games ,postmans knock,musical chairs,charades,we loved it when the grown ups made fools of themselves,it made things so much more enjoyable.
All the families ,but ours, left at the end of the evening,we would meet again
in the afternoon of Boxing day when we would go to the Pantomime and then back to Uncle Charlies for tea.Boxing night was for grown ups,they would all go off to the pub and we children would be left to play games.
I was'nt keen on this part,my sister and I were the youngest and our young Aunt Betty liked to put on plays,in which she would be the star,the next oldest in the pecking order would get parts requisite with their age.
As a consequence I was always playing a horse or a donkey,which Bettys character was required to ride.
It got better when our parents got back from the pub,they never got drunk ,just a bit merry and then it was singsongs,sandwiches ,beer and pop
after which we would all go home.That tramride back to Mozart street was special,your head full of festive images,your arms full of presents and your pockets full of pennies.
1948 was knocking on the door and we were looking forward to that party because it was going to be at Maggie Browns!

CHRISMIZ

08-10-2007, 10:58 PM

I just can't imagine kids now playing donkey rides Brian, they don't use thier imagination. I wasn't born at the time you're talking about, but I remember similar Chrismas's to yours. Brilliant :handclap::handclap::handclap:

brian daley

08-13-2007, 08:55 PM

These are just some of the people who appear in the story of my childhood and youth.
The next episode will appear very soon, I am recovering from a rather hectic 50th anniversary reunion of sailors from the Vindicatrix Sea Training School.
See you soon
BrianD

brian daley

08-14-2007, 09:53 PM

The period between Christmas and New Year was spent going to the pictures,pantomime and getting to see those aunts and uncles who had failed to make it to Grandmas.It was also time spent waiting for Maggies New Years party.
Maggie, Mum and Mrs Heslop spent some days before the great night, baking cakes and making trifles and jellies that would be set out for us all on the last night of the year.That New Years was special because some of my aunts,uncles and cousins came too.It's a good job that Maggies house was big because we filled every room.
She was very inventive in creating games that children would find fun in playing;there was one game in particular that we found gave us all the biggest laughs.I don't know what it was called,but I have never forgotten how it was played.
First of all the lights were put out,so that the room was in total darkness.
A candle was lit and this was held low down, at a small childs height,above it was held a saucer.Eddie Brown held these and Maggie,in her Indian Princess role,would ask us children questions that could only be answered with a Yes or No.We were each asked a Question in turn,about 5 questions each in total.If we gave a wrong answer,we had to wipe our fingers across the bottom of the saucer and then wipe them across our face.Wiping the left cheek first and the right cheek next.Oh those politically incorrect days.Maggie said that the stupidest child would turn black if they gave the wrong answers.We couldn't see beyond the glow of the candle so we didn't realise what was going on.When the lights went on we screamed with laughter for we looked like little piccaninnies.We knew nothing about soot and smoke.
So here we are in 1948,a brand New Year and great changes about to come in our little world.
I had always wanted a Dad,....my Dad,I felt it when my pals talked of the things they did with their dads,when their hands went up in class to tell teacher of what their dads did for a living.Oh ,there were sad kids in class who would never see their dads again because they had been killed in the war,but mine was around ,somewhere and he never came to see us.
I was 6 now and I had spent three and a half years without him.He had stopped being Dad, in my mind, and had become Billy Daley,a stranger.But life goes on,and we were full of it,we were also unthinkingly cruel at times.Anyone who was disabled ,or too small or tall came in for a terrible barracking from our little gang.There was one poor man in particular who we treated atrociously.He was the same size as me,about 4 foot high,he was well dressed,always wore a collar and tie,a nice suit and a little flat cap.
He must have been short sighted for he had glasses with very thick lens.
Whenever we saw him he had a leather case,which was in proportion to the rest of him.What caused us to notice him was not his size,but his head..........it was flat!
We called him Billy Bullethead,shouted it whenever he passed by,causing him to turn and shake his fist,which would always be answered with more jeers.
Lodge Lane was slowly recovering from the war,shops were beginning to open in the empty spaces and some of the older shops were being spruced up.The shoe repairers on the block facing our street was having a new window fitted which was covered in a lovely green film ,upon which was the legend "Charles Richardson"done in gold flake scrolled letters ,underneath it said something about bespoke repairs,also done in gold.We holy terrors were stood on the pavement outside Charleys ,gazing in wonder at the gold lettering, when someone called out that Billy was coming up our street.We turned away from the window and started shouting "BILLY BULLETHEAD" at the top of our voices.This enraged the little man and he set down his case,
opened it and pulled out a small jar of something which he flung with all his might ,hoping to hit one of us.He did hit something.............Charlies window!We stood rooted to the spot as it shattered into nothingness.59 years later I can still see the look of horror on Billys face as Charlie came storming out of his shop.Even then I felt sorry for the trouble we had caused him.I can't recall seeing him ever again
By now my Mum had got a job at Vernons,at the other end of the world.She was getting up to work before I was awake, leaving my sister Jess to get me up and ready for school,washing, dressing and feeding kid sister Bette,and taking her off to our Aunty Sallys in Pembroke Place,all before getting to school herself.She was eight and a half.We were latchkey kids and our Jess was cleaner,cook and babyminder too.After school she had to go and pick Bette up and bring her home again.Mum wasn't intentionally cruel,but life was very hard for my big sister.
One day we came home to find our room covered all over in soot,great mounds of it.Jess was more frightened of what Mum might say than of the actual circumstance.So she organised the clean up.Now, two doors down on the other side of the street lived Mr Bishop ,the chimney sweep.Jess and I hadn't a clue what to do with all the soot,but I remembered that Mr Bishop always seemed to be carrying bags of the stuff on his bike,so perhaps he wouldn't mind a bit more.We filled the coal bucket with the stuff and I carried it to Mr Bishops back door.After God knows how many journeys,we emptied our room and filled the back entry adjacent the Bishops backyard door.
Mum came home to a clean room ,and a very angry Mr Bishop.
I don't know she settled things but life proceeded onwards.
And then one day I saw my Dad across the road,right outside Charlies shop....................Was he coming home?
Bye for now
BrianD

naked lilac

08-15-2007, 05:14 AM

:handclap: Your writings are well worth a read.. ta for sharing.. waiting for the next chapters.. ta

MariaC

08-15-2007, 11:29 AM

Hi Ya Brian:)

PhilipG

08-15-2007, 12:40 PM

Brian.
Hengler is a very rare name.
I see there's only two in the 1936 Liverpool street directory.
Were they all related to the Hengler's Circus people?

Jericho

08-15-2007, 01:27 PM

PhilipG

08-15-2007, 02:04 PM

Brian, I enyoy reading your stories but I find the one about a man being lynched in Lodge Lane very disturbing. Are you sure it really happened? Liverpool had quite a large and influential Jewish community at that time. What did they do about it?

I know Brian can speak for himself, but he's already answered this.
He didn't say that somebody was actually lynched, just that he saw a frightened man standing on a chair with a noose around his neck.
Outcome unknown.
It was the looting that came as a surprise to me.
Minority groups have always been singled out from time to time.

brian daley

08-15-2007, 02:24 PM

Hi Phillip and Jericho,
To answer your question first Phillip,I didn't become aware of the circus connection until the !950's.All through my childhood the name seemed untraceable.My Uncle Bill tried to find out if there were any leads that might lead to the origin of the name(remember,this was in the 40's).One day he had to deliver a grand piano to the Shakespeare theatre in Liverpool ,it was for an act called The Hengler Brothers.He was so excited to have such a good lead........alas,they were Polish and had chosen the name from an old circus handbill that they had found,because their own name was unpronouncable.
When This is Your Life started on the BBC in the 50's they had Britains ,then ,oldest actor as the subject on one show.Eammon Andrews told the audience how he,A.E. Matthews,had started out in showbusiness as a stable lad with Henglers Circus.I was agog ,here was the first mention of the family name outside of our little circle.Eammon went on to relate how the Circus had now become the London Palladium theatre.I was more than agog now,how the hell had our family gone from being famous circus owners to hard up tenants in a council flat?.Well the story is a long and an ironic one.We all believed for years that we had circus blood in our veins,but it turns out that our ancestor was,like those Polish brothers,an alien with an unpronouncable name who adopted his new one from a circus poster.My cousin Robbie researched it on the Net.
As for that poor old Chandler,Jericho,he wasn't killed.My mother and the good people of Mozart Street saved him.He went back to his shop and was still there in the summer of 1950 when we left for pastures new.
I don't think anyone mentioned it too much,because of the shame?I can't say, I was too young to know what went on in the wider world,and as to knowing if anyone in the Jewish community even knew about it...........I did't know what a Jew was,or come to that a Hindu or whatever.But I know what I saw, and still feel the emotion that charged my very being on that awful eve.
BrianD

brian daley

08-15-2007, 07:37 PM

The man across the road was tall and handsome,he was wearing a cream trench coat which was open at the front,showing a nice suit and tie.
He was so smart.The look on his face was quite forbidding,his brows were furrowed and his lips were curled derisively.This wasn't the tall smiling man who had gone off to the army.
My Mum crossed the road and they talked hurriedly,Mum holding Bette out to him,Jess and I watching apprehensively from the other side.
I can't remember what happened next,did I erase the memory because events did not go as I would have wished? I don't know,but we didn't have the happy return that we had dreamed of.
Something did happen though,one weekend shortly after that visitation Dad came and took we three children to see our Nin.This was a strange experience,nearly three years had passed since we had seen them and we had forgotten what they looked like.They lived in Tintern Street, not far from Grandmas,but a different world.
Nin was kindly,but not too fresh,she had an aroma that was totally different from Grandmas,not a pleasant one ,I was uncomfortable when she hugged me.Granddad Daley was like my Dad but older,he was distant and quiet.
We were, after all,little strangers to them.Mum had gotten our best clothes out of pawn and we looked as we felt.....posh!In truth ,we were prigs,although we were poor and at the bottom of the heap,we never felt that way.Grandmas was our real world,a world of Brasso, Mansion polish and lavender.When Nin offered us a cup of tea in a cup so badly stained with tannin,I nearly gagged.Dad wasn't pleased with my reaction.
When Nin asked me about the things I was doing,I was quick in telling her about our dance troupe...........not the best thing I could have talked about.
A boy in a dance troupe?She asked me what football team I supported??????
Living so close to Goodison I had never been to a match!Living in a fatherless household I had never been initiated into the rites of the game.
There was only one team I supported,The Winslow.
This was the pub team which Granddad took me to watch on a Sunday.I loved it ,getting up early to travel across town to Grandmas.Granddad taking me by the hand to the coach full of players and supporters.It was all aboard and off to places unknown as the Winslow played other pub teams.
There were one or two other lads my age who would be with their Dads and we would go off on adventures in these new far flung places.
When I grew up I found out that we never travelled more than 10 miles away.But back then there were no Kirkby or Croxteth estates,that was the end of the world.One Sunday that sticks in my mind was when the team went to play, out near an airfield.We boys were so excited to see a Lancaster bomber,seemingly right behind the goal! We were off and running as soon as the coach stopped ,a real "Lanc",we'd only ever seen them in the sky or at the movies.We didn't see the fence,nor the tank traps,until it was too late.I got a wound that bled profusely and the first aid man from the Winslow did the business,so good that I never had to go to hospital.When I went back to Grandmas with my arm in a sling poor Granddad got what for from Grandma.
So there I am in Nins living room trying to explain why I didnt support any of the big teams.I am afraid that I never made a good impression.
So it was back to Mozart Street,and back to normal,or what we had
come to think of as normal.
I don't know what passed between Mum and Dad during that period ,were they making plans to get back together? I suppose so ,but thats looking back at it. We were more concerned with getting through the week,especially poor Jess.
I've written of that wonderful model shop just around the corner,I had to pass it every day on my way to school.One day, there appeared in the window a beautiful model of an Auster airplane.It was about two foot across and three foot long,made out of paper and balsa wood,there it hung,as though in flight.I loved that plane and wished that we were rich enough to buy it,but it was nineteen shillings and sixpence.An impossible dream.
But every day,after Jess had gone to take Bette to Aunty Sallys,I would linger by that window dreaming about that plane.
On one such a morning,I closed the door behind me to begin the journey to school, when I saw the unbelievable.There ,in the gutter,lay a one pound note.I snatched it up and went back to the step where I just held it before me wondering if it was real.I'd never had a pound before,then a dawning realisation came upon me............the plane!! I could buy the plane!
I determined to wait there until the shop opened at nine,to hell with being late,I was going to claim that which would soon be mine.
Time seemed to crawl by,I didn't have a watch but I knew as soon as the shops opened so would the model shop.
The man in the fish shop came out and lifted up his shutters,time to go.
Just then our Jess came around the corner with Bette,she was breaking her heart crying.I asked her what had happened and she told me that she had lost the pound that Mum gave her for Aunty Sally.The look of relief that came on her face when I gave her my new found wealth more than made up
for an old airplane.
Did I tell you that our kid had a wonderful voice?Having no radio,she would sing to me and Bette,songs that she had learned at school,songs from our concert party and songs from the musicals we watched at the pictures.Up in our room with just the three of us,she created a little bit of magic.
For some reason or other,we had to move bedrooms at this time.we hated it for our new bedroom was at the very top of a dark and gloomy stairway.There were no lights,not even gaslights.We had to make our way to bed by candlelight,the glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.Big sis and I didn't like going up on our own but there were many nights when we had to.Jess used to sing "Me and my Shadow" as we made our way up the stairs.
By now we had a cot for Bette so Mum, Jess and I all slept in the one bed.It was comforting to be so near to your loved ones, and made the world a less frightening place to be.
And then one night, when I was in the fastness of sleep,a big pair of hands lifted me out of the bed and shoved me in Bettes' empty cot.........Dad was back!
BrianD

brian daley

08-17-2007, 10:56 PM

I can remember waking up very tired the next morning,my head was pressed against the bars of the cot,making me wonder where I was.Dad was home!!
It was a strange feeling,to have something you have wished for,for so long, come to pass.So much time had gone by since he had been our Dad,there was a wariness, no kissing and hugging.Just a strained politeness that strangers have when meeting for the first time.
Now I am older I can empathise with how he must have felt, no little lad running to greet him,just a fearful boy wondering if the stories he had ovrheard at Grandmas were true.Poor old Dad hadn't had a "good press" amongst the Protestant side of the family,he was,and would remain for a few years more,"that Billy Daley"when referred to in their conversations.
We were glad he was back though,we had been suffering from a bit of bullying by a neighbours teenage son,and now we had a Dad to stand up for us.
Things started to change shortly after he moved in ,I was given a bed of my own almost immediately.The sheets and blankets came later,in the meantime I had Dads army greatcoat as my covering,and thank god he was an N.C.O as the stripes on the sleeve gave me extra warmth!
I cannot speak for my sisters in this account,this is a purely personal memoir,
but one of the first memorable things he did, concerning me,was buy me a pair of boxing gloves.
Now,Tiber Street school was a boxing school.From infancy boys were encouraged to take up the noble art. When I was in the last class in infants I can remember having an enormous pair of boxing gloves put on me by Mr.Bath and being stuck in a makeshift ring with John Gerrard and urged to knock lumps out of each other.He was one of my mates,wore glasses(still had them on)and felt the sameway as I did.WE DID NOT LIKE IT!!
So,Dads first gift went down like a lead balloon.He tried though,the next thing he tried to get me interested in was football.He took me to a match at Goodison,his holy ground. I spent the whole time looking to see if I knew anyone in the crowd,I had absolutely no interest in what was happening on the field.He Tried to make connections but I must have been fairly set in my ways,I was six going on seven and all I was interested in was the pictures,the Pavilion,comics and our dance troupe.
He was very worried that I was less than a boy and certainly not the son he would have liked me to be.
I started to hear him urging Mum to stop my attendance at the dance school.I may have been the worlds worst dancer,I can't say how good or bad I was,but I loved being in that colourful place and hearing the music and songs.We still had no radio at home.
My exit from the world of showbiz came in a most unexpected way.At school my closest pal was Tony Sproule,he asked me where I went to of a Tuesday that stopped me playing out with him.I was proud of what I was in and tried to explain that I was involved in real show biz.We were rehearsing for another production in the Co-op hall the following Tuesday and I asked him to come along to see what went on.He seemed very keen,I made it sound like it was going to be a Hollywood style extravaganza
That night it was a dress rehearsal and I was done up in all my slap and a toy soldier outfit.Tony had brought his brother John and they had a grandstand view of proceedings.When we had finished our number,I went over to them,fully expecting them to overawed by my appearance.With horror struck faces they said "You look like a bleeding Tart!!"And thus ended my journey on the road to Holywood.I couldn't get out of that stage outfit quick enough.They had achieved what Dad had failed to.
Remembering the Coop hall has brought back memories of the queues that used to form outside the Co-op butchers on a Saturday morning.It was nearly all kids in the Queue,standing in line to get the meat ration.We aways went early Jess and I ,it was almost like a cinema queue.It curled around the block and if you didn't get there early you would be left with scrag ends.We were given a little treat, by one of the butchers,he would come down the line with a big jar of sweets and give them out to all of kids.I still remember Mums divvi number,49908.
After the shopping we would go home and get our picture money and then go to the Tunnel ,Capitol,or Cameo.Jess had developed a tremendous wheeze,having got our tickets at the kiosk,we would slip past the usherette collecting the tickets,this was done when there were a lot of other kids going through at the same time.She would keep hold of the tickets and put them under a flat iron when we got home.That way they always looked new.We would go to the same cinema many times with the one set of tickets,always ready to give them in should they be asked for ,the picture money would be used to buy ice cream or lollies.
Bette was now old enough to come with us.All went well for a long time until I, in my stupid boyish way, demanded that I look after my own ticket during the week.
You know how busy a boys pocket can be,marbles,cigarette cards,lead soldiers and the odd sticky sweet all find their way in and out of your pocket during the course of a week.Imagine then,the state of my ticket for the next matinee at the Capitol.We slipped past the ticket box,I sauntered in a superior manner,I had my own ticket and didn't need our Jess to tell me what to do.I dawdled along the corridor looking at the posters, savouring the moment.I looked toward the ticket collector,Jess and Bette were through,there was only me in the corridor."Wheres yer ticket lad?" she asked. I fumbled in my pockets,pulling out a very soiled and crumpled ticket.I gave it to her,"Where did ya get this?" she demanded."Off the the ticket lady"I whimpered."What Bloody Year?" she yelled.I was taken to the lobby and the police were called.I was terrified.My Dad would kill me if he found out.Granddad,my Uncle Bill and all my auntys would be ashamed of me
At length ,an old Bobby arrived,he took me along the passge to a place by one of the windows.It was lighter there, he told me that what I had done was very wrong and that I could be taken away from my family and school.He could see I was frightened,so he took me outside and told me to go home and stop being a silly boy.I was lucky to have met a real policeman.
It didnt stop us getting into other japes though.At the Cameo, and the Kensington cinema,they would have sing songs before the films and they would call up the kids who had a birthday that week and give them a free iced lolly and some other little gift.The three of us would take turns in having birthdays in alternate cinemas.We were never caught.
Woolworths also took a terrible hammering from the Saturday matinee crowd,we would swarm through the doors and reach up to the open counters,unable to see what we were grabbing,shove whatever it was in our pockets and go like hell out of the other doors.Divvying up the loot outside we would find things like hairgrips,rubber bands and maybe a comb ,crime most definitely did not pay.
When the pictures let out ,we boys would be astride our invisible horses, macs tied around or necks like cloaks and,slapping our behinds, we would ride off into the sunset,going home for our tea and then our weekly bath for tomorrow was Sunday.
BrianD

brian daley

08-18-2007, 01:55 PM

As to those Saturday baths,since Dad had come home we were treated to a new tin bath.Our living room,such as it was,was situated on the first floor,the nearest tap was in the bathroom on the half landing,one flight above.for some reason or other,we couldn't use the bath in there.So prior to the arrival of the small tin bath ,all our washing was done in the small handbasin in the bathroom.
I still wonder just how Dad managed to fill that little bath with hot water.There was no boiler for hot water on tap,he had to heat the water in a pan on the fire in our room.How many journeys to the bathroom it took to fill that I do not know,but he did it.The bath was placed in front of the fire and we kids took it in turns to have our scrub.Being a boy,I had to go last,Bette, being the baby,went first ,then our Jess and then yours truly. I had to sit on the stairs until the girls had finshed;by the time it was my turnthe water was grey and there were grey bubbles on the surface.After getting dried we were covered from head to foot with DDT powder.The house was plagued with fleas and our parents took every measure to ensure that we were kept free of them.Our bed sheets, pillows and mattresses,were dusted regularly.
Worst of all was the nit comb,we had our heads washed in Derbac,which smarted like hell,and then that steel weapon was dragged through scalp to gather every one of the little blighters that hid amongst our follicles.
I can still hear the cracking sound they made when Mum crushed them with her thumbnail.
So,scrubbed and deloused,we made our way to DDT powdered beds and awaited the morning.
You know,I never did find out how Dad emptied that bath.

Since Dads arrival home Sunday mornings changed.He loved salt fish and we would awake to the smell of it boiling on the fire.He used to put a bit of smoked bacon in with it to give it flavour.We were called down to breakfast when the fish had been cooked to such a turn that the meat practically melted in your mouth.I have sailed the world over and have never had salt fish the way Dad cooked it ,boiled in milk,a touch of smokey bacon ,it was fit for a king.
After breakfast,we had a quick swill and then it was on with the Sunday best,retrieved on Saturday,and then off to Walton.
Dad would put Jess and Bette on the bus to go to Nins,and then he would walk me through the town,a different route each Sunday,and he would relate the history of the places we passed on our way to Walton.I still treasure those golden Sunday mornings.Dad was erudite,he should have gone to college,but ,as the eldest boy in a poor working class family,he was needed as a wage earner.So he was destined never to fulfil his potential.
He never spoke to me of this,he told my daughter many years later.
But there ,on those Sunday morning walks,I learned of the building of Liverpool as a great commercial city,of the railway and canal pioneers,how Crown street and Edge Hill were at the forefront of the railway revolution.
The walks through the cathedral cemetery,where he would point out the good and the great,the stroll past the Goree Plaza where he told me of our shame.History used to live on his lips,his words made things come alive.
I never felt bored as he illustrated things.He deepened my love for the city.
I remember, clearly,when he showed me the Oriel Chambers in Water street,explaining how the design of that building enabled architects to build the skyscrapers in America.
I don't know how long it took to get to Nins,but we always arrived at the same time as his brothers and sisters ,who had brought their children as well.
Now that we were family again we were discovering our catholic cousins.
And there were many of them.My favourite uncle on Dads side was his younger brother Gerry.He was now a docker and he used to get Yankee comics!!!!They opened up a whole new world to me.That was where I first met Superman, Captain Marvel,Tarzan,Casey Ruggles,(surely the finest scripted and drawn comic ever).He also got the funnies from the American newspapers,Li'l Abner,The Katzenjammer Kids,Terry and the Pirates and a host of other favourites used to spill out from their pages.
The Liverpool Echo had a two frame strip of Curley Wee and Gussie Goose plus Dick Tracey,which I loved.It wasn't until the appearance of The Back Entry Diddlers that I really got interested in English newspaper comic strips.
Another uncle,Harold, was a prankster.One of the first Sundays we were back at Nins,and the first time I had seen Uncle Harold ,he saw me standing by Nins chair and called out"Look what he's done" pointing to the floor behind me,where there lay a huge turd.It certainly hadn't been there when I walked in for I would have seen it.I was mortified,I must have looked a picture,guilt written all over my face ,and yet I was innocent."it wasn't me" I stammered.Everyone burst out laughing for Harold had just pulled off another of his pranks.I didn't know it was a joke turd,and when he stooped to pick it up I was horrified..........I had a lot to learn.
When all of Nins sons were congregated,we kids would have a short play on the bomb site opposite her house,with strict instructions not to get dirty.As soon as the pubs were open ,Dad would walk us along Walton Road ,across Spellow Lane and to the bottom of Eton Street ,where he would watch us make our way to Grandmas.They never became reconciled ,Dad and and our Hengler grandparents.
At number 69,Grandma and aunty Betty would be busy polishing and cleaning as well as preparing the Dinner,Granddad would be up at the pub ,so Jess,Bette and me would sit and read the latest editions of the Beano,Dandy,Radio Fun and Film Fun while listening to the radio.It was blissful.When we got there,it would be Time for 2 Way family favourites withJean Metcalfe and Cliff Michelmore,this would be followed by the Billy Cotton Bandshow,with Alan Breeze and Kathy Kay,around this time we would have fetched Granddad from the pub,with his big bottle of shandy,and then it was down at the table while Grandma served dinner to the sound of Ray's A Laugh ,Up the PoleTake It From Here,or one of the many other shows from those golden days of radio.
Pudding was always eaten to the sound of Jack Payne.
After making our rounds of the various aunt and uncles who lived at the top end of Walton,it was Jess's job to get the three of us home.We used to ike sitting on the long seat at the back of the tram so we could kneel and look out of the window.
hen we got home now Mum would have prepared a Sunday tea with a trifle and biscuits too!! Life was getting a little bit brighter.

brian daley

08-19-2007, 01:32 AM

But life with Dad was not all cakes and ale.
He worked long hours and would come home in some terrible states;he had a job at Stanlow,working in the new oil refinery.As a welder, he was working on the towers and would be filthy at the end of his shift.Mum gave him little treats because he needed something to cheer him up at the close of day.So,there appeared in our cupboard things that were for Dad only,things in that time of shortages that we had never seen before.
One of them was a tin of Nescafe instant coffee.Jess and I would look at these forbidden things and wonder what they were.
The tin looked nice,with its rich brown and gold lettering,it looked just like something chocolate.
There were just us three kids at home at the time.I lifted the can up to look inside and Jess warned me not to do anything,I was trespassing and could be punished.I told her I was only going to have a look.I opened the lid and saw the shiny,chocolate coloured grains,was it chocolate?
I wet my fingers to have dip.........ughhhhh!It was awful.I snapped the lid back on and put the tin back.
Shortly afterwards Mum came home from Vernons and put us to bed.
I was sound asleep when I was wrenched from my dreams by my Dad, he was holding me by the shoulders,shaking me and asking if I had been in his cupboard.
I can't remember what I said for I was so afraid,he was in a rage,screaming as he pummelled me with blows.I don't know how long the beating lasted,,but when it was over I was bleeding from my ears,nose and mouth.He had shouted that he would leave us again if I was going to behave like a thief.I can remember crying ,holding on to his arms and begging him not to go away again.I was frightened of being fatherless again.
Things were never the same between us after that night, we disappointed each other.
I must tell you a little about our baby sister Bette,she was terribly unlucky in that she was always having accidents,broken bones,sprains and a particularly nasty scald.We had to be very careful for the slightest fall could cause her an injury.
One day our gang was in Sefton Park and we were down by the boat hire place,it was very crowded and, as I made my way to the waters edge,I could see our Bette in the water.It looked like she was swimming for she was face down;there were hundreds of people about and I was so scared of water that I couldn't bring myself to go in to stop her swimming away.
All of a sudden people ran past me to drag her out,she was drowning!!
She was taken away in an ambulance with big sister Jess.When I got home she was already there ,safe and sound ,and I got a telling off for not trying to save her.
But life goes on,and our life was lived mainly in the streets.In spring ,summer and autumn,the family lived outside ,the kids playing their games and their mothers,and some fathers,sitting on the steps ,talking to each other and keeping a watchful on us.Sometimes play would be interrupted by a street singer,bellowing out sorrowful popular songs, cries of "Eres a penny go the next street" would often accompany them.
The Aunt Sally man with his horse and cart,with its barrels of powerful liquid soap,was always a welome caller with the ladies.they would pile out their houses with bottles and jugs to buy this universal cleaner.
The potted ,or pickled, herring man would always do a roaring trade as did the knife sharpener who had wonderful little cart which would unfold into a fullblown grinding machine.All of these visitors had their own cries which would herald their arrival.
Our streets resounded with the noise of life,the shrill cries of children at play,the barrel organ outside the pub,the peddlers calls,and the distant hoots of ships on the river ,the whine of the tramcars electric motors and the clang of their bells embroidered a sound picture that was truly Liverpudlian.
At school I was now in the juniors,the playground seemed enormous,so there was lots of room to run about in.We used to act out scenes from our favourite films at playtime,Cowboys and Indians,Romans and whoever,Japs and commandos,we weren't allowed to play ball games but it was permissable to massacre each other.
At the top of our playground stood the boys and girls toiletsThere were two separate entrances with a dividing wall in the middle.There were little cubicles on either side but instead of separate pedestals,there was one long trough with seats in each cubicle.The trough was spotless white and was flushed through at intervals.I was told ,by one of the older boys, that if I went into the cubicle by the dividing wall I would see the girl in the next loos bottom reflected in the water.I crept in and peered down,only to see the face of a girl looking back at me!!!
The Olympics were held in were held in London in 1948, not that we kids knew anything about them,a man from the middle of our street won a bronze medal at them for weightlifting.His name was Julian Creus and I don't remember him because of his medal win,but because I watched from the pavement as he was carried out of his house on a stetcher to an ambulance and I heard people say"thats Julian Creus, the Olympic champion ." It was years later that I read of his achievement.
The National Health Service came into being in 1948 and with it came hope for all the short sighted and toothless people of Great Britain,was I to young to know about such things?Absolutely not,our close neighbour was both shortsighted and toothless and she was so excited at the prospect of getting both false teeth and spectacles free of charge.
She was a grandmotherly type of lady,easy going and submissive to her husband, he was so uncouth in both appearance and manners,that he would have made Alf Garnett seem like Noel Coward in comparison.
He was a navvy and always bore a 5 o'clock shadow of ginger bristles,his oily flat cap was never off his head and he always ate his meals with one hand curled around his plate.How do I know this ? we shared the same lodgings!
He would keep his head lowered to the plate,snuffling and grunting as he wolfed his food down.
Come the day when Mrs.E is sitting at the table ,replete with new teeth and glasses,her husband hasn't noticed a thing,"What do you think Love?" she said, new teeth and glasses glistening in the gaslight.He lifted his face from the plate,glowered and said "You look like a f*****g 'orse!!"
The last of the great romantics............

1950 was looming over the horizon and maybe the half century would bring even greater changes...........lets wait and see.
BrianD

.

brian daley

08-20-2007, 12:40 AM

Tiber Street school was special to us kids in that it not only provided us with an education,but it was also open as a play centre in the autumn and winter evenings.It was a pleasure to go there of a night time,there was none of the rigid discipline of the classroom,we played organised indoor games, had drawing lessons,or just simply sat and listened to stories being read by teachers.
Miss Bell ,the headmistress,was given to enthusiasms,she loved organising concerts or displays.Every May Day a Maypole was erected at the top of the playground and selected boys and girls were chosen to enact the Maypole dance.This was a rather intricate affair,ribbons of red ,white and blue, were hung from the top and the boys and girls each held one of the colours.
They were taught to dance around the pole in opposing directions,skipping and weaving as they went.this was done to the sound of music played on an old wind up gramaphone.When the dance was ended the pole was covered from top to bottom with a red, white and blue pattern.
It took days and days of practice,I was removed from the team because I kept going the wrong way.
For Christmas '49 Miss Bell decided to put on a concert,in fact a N****r Minstrel Show.Hard to believe now,given the way Lodge Lane is today,but way back then, we didn't even know the word racist.
A group of boys were chosen to be the minstrel choir and dance chorus,and I was picked to in it.Al Johnson was a very popular entertainer at that time and we all ,the minstrels that is,thought we were going to be like him.
We were given several songs to learn,which we did at home,and had to rehearse some simple dance and comedy routines at school.
I spent hours practising Swanee River, Poor Black Joe,By the Light of the Silvery Moon and several others.Whenever relatives came around I was hauled out and told to go into my routine.
Come the day of the show the minstrels had to take their pyjama trousers,a white shirt and their Dads hat(I was lucky mine had one ,a green trilby)
the teachers had made us colourful bow ties,and blacked our faces too.
We lads were thrilled with our reception,and, when the show was over,went home still blacked up.All we got was nice smiles from passers by and pats on the head from old people.I shudder to think what would happen if a child walked home like that now.
We had an Indian boy join our school that year,the only Indian boy I had seen before was Sabhu, the young star of Soldiers Three,Jungle Book and The Drum.So this boy was invested with an aura of glamour before we got to know him.The Head Mistress had him on the platform and introduced him as a boy from the Indian Empire, and she let him tell us about the village he was from.He was a great story teller,I can't remember much about his village,but I remember the tale he told about the day a lion attacked his father.
We were spellbound as he told of finding his father clamped in a lions mouth,it was was dragging him by the shoulder, away from the farm.The boy picked up his fathers knife and slashed the lions nose,causing it to drop his father and flee.He was all of 9 years of age.
Another pupil from a far away land joined our class that year,a beautiful freckle faced girl with auburn hair.She was from California and I developed a massive crush on her,the sound of her voice,her lovely white teeth,and that sunny complexion, she was so different from any girl I had ever known.
She was to remain unaware of my affection because I would get tongue tied whenever she was near.

When 1950 dawned, Miss Bell informed us in assembly one morning, that 1951 was going to be an Historic year.The government had decided that there was to be a Great Exhibition, like the one held a 100 years ago in London.
Tiber Sreet Primary School was going to play its full part in the proceedings.
This was going to be different from the May Day ceremonies, grander than the school concerts. This was going to be an occasion that people would remember for the rest of their lives!!
When Miss Bell pronounced her ishes ,the school obeyed!!
Ideas were called for,discussions took place throughout the school,what kind of display would Tiber Street hold?
At length ,it was decided to build a battleship in the playground,it was going to be called HMS Britannia.We kids were imagining that the yard was going to look like Cammell Lairds.
She had to have a screw loose,build a Battleship in the playground.
And then slowly the plan was given form,we children would be the battleship!
The outline of a ships hull was drawn in chalk in the middle of the playground.It was huge,at least to us kids it seemed huge.Whole classes of children were needed to stand along the outline of the hull,forming two curved lines from stem to stern.We were to be the ships bow, sides and stern.The superstructure was going to be built out of boxes or tea chests and would be painted grey.Canvas sheets were to be made and would be painted to look like the hull of a warship.we kids were to hold this in place.It sounded fantastic and nearly every day we were lined up in battleship order and made to practise moving in line like a ship under way.It was very hard trying to maintain the shape as we moved,but this was early '50 and we had nearly a year to practise.Most dry mornings would find us in the playground,all holding hands to keep the line intact,trying to sail gracefully across the yard.One of the older girls was chosen to play the part of Britannia,she would be sat atop the superstructure,with a shield and trident, just like the one on the penny.She took no part in the rehearsals yet, for the boxes had not yet been produced to make the upperdecks.
We may have been unable to add up or do long division ,but by the arrival of the summer holidays in 1950 we kids could match the grenadier guards for marching.
This summer promised to be our best ever for Mum and Dad were going to take us all on holiday to Llandudno.We were excited as could be for this was going to be our first holiday as a complete family......................................
BrianD

brian daley

08-21-2007, 11:08 PM

So, the anticipation of real seaside holiday excited us so much,we had been to New Brighton and Southport,but that was for days outings.
This was the stuff of fairy tales.We were going to stay with my Mums Aunty Dolly,she had a guest house in Alexandria Road on the West Shore in LLandudno.
We prayed that nothing could happen that would prevent our holiday,so often had we felt disappointments in the past, when rain had put a halt to a promised outing.
The months seemed to crawl by,but we still had school and the Festival of Britain rehearsals.We still had our street games and the endless diversions that filled our spare time.
There seemed to be a season for everything,at certain times of the year,whip and tops would appear,pavements would be chalked with hopscotch grids,ropes would be slung over the ladder arms of gas lamps and we would swing till we were dizzy.Who deemed it time for a game to start ,we'll never know;it was the order of things.Boys flicking ollies(marbles)into circles,a kind of junior bowls,girls playing balls with all the skill of jugglers,dresses tucked into knickers so that they could throw the balls under their legs,as a variation.The skipping games which were done to old street songs like Bobby Shafto,sometimes Mums and Dads would help turn a big rope so that up to half a dozen kids could skip in unison.
Those games brought us together as a group,we were part of a "tribe",the kids of the top end of a street would rarely play with the kids from the bottom end.There were exceptions,there was a family in Coltart Road,who were special.they were black,not something that was ever remarked upon then,the younger son was my age and he was part of our group of school mates.His elder brother was a rather dashing figure,he was in the American Army Air Force and he looked so "hollywood "in his uniform.
What made him special was that he always had time for us kids,with four steel poles and a couple of ropes,he would rig up a boxing ring in the street and give us proper boxing lessons.We thought he was a real hero.
Some of the older girls in our street were dating G.I.s, who would call for them in their Buicks and Plymouths,we would stand at the kerb awestruck at the beautiful chrome grilles,the fantastic interiors with the big bench seats and the ivory coloured steering wheels.Such opulence amidst such squalor.
Some of the brothers of the girls would get comics and candy and were the envy of us all.If we ever saw a "Yank",we would call out "Any gum chum?",sometimes you'd get lucky and be treated to a stick of Wrigleys,if not, we'd shout "Up your bum Chum" and leg it.
Thinking of American servicemen,calls to mind an incident that occurred during one of the school holidays,Our gang had been down to Sefton Park
to watch a circus being set up,we were walking back up the Lane and were on the opposite side to Mozart Street ,when I saw my Mum coming out of Holdens Stores.I hadn't seen her all day because she had been at work.She was carrying shopping bags full of groceries so I shouted to her that I would help.Without looking left ,or right.I just hared across the road...........................right into the path of an American Military Police jeep.
I stiil don't know how it happened,but I ended up on the bonnet ,holding on to the spare wheel,while these two "snowdrops",with eyes like saucers,went skidding to a halt outside Percys greengrocers.I tumbled off and broke the 4 minute mile getting out of there.
When I crept back home later ,my Mum gave me such a larruping,she had dropped the shopping in fright and broke that weeks ration of eggs.
Summertime was here and the holiday was looming.
Cases were packed withour best clothes,no buckets or spades,we'd get them there.That morning saw the five of us boarding the train,shivering with the excitement of it.The station, full of people and trains,the kids clinging on to their parents for fear of getting lost in the crowd,the hiss of steam and the clouds of smoke,whistles blowing and the lurch as the great blackened behemoth shakes off the station bounds and starts to chug ,chug, chug its way to pastures new.Trundling out through the city cuttings she starts to gather speed,the clickety click of the rails sets up it melody in your head.The streets turn into fields,the gold and green of the meadows like some vast patchwork quilt.To a child of city streets this was a colourful awakening.With noses pressed to the windows ,we drank in the passing scenes,clickety,click, clickety click, are we there yet,clickety click,is it far? The whoosh and shudder as a train passes the other way,the blackness that swoops upon you as we enter a tunnel.The shrill sound of the train whistle and the slowing down as we come to the outer reaches of the station.People standing up to reach for cases from the rack ,the gentle click as we cross those final points.the slow lurch to a halt as we stop beside the platform."Come on lad" says Dad,"give your Mam a hand with her bags,We're there!"
BrianD

brian daley

08-22-2007, 09:11 PM

Mum led the way out of the station,my head was twisting left and right ,taking in the sun bright streets.No blackened brickwork, just clean,
brightly coloured houses,and spotlessly swept streets.You could smell the sea air and the seagulls cries echoed through the skies.
We were almost running to Aunty Dolly's,going down Augusta Street,with the Great Orme towering in the background,my first view of a real mountain,into Trinity Avenue,with its neat rows of Victorian villas and well trimmed gardens.Next came Kings Place,then Kings Drive and then we were in Alexandra Road.How do I remember the roads so well?Subsequent events will answer that question..
We didn't go in through the front door,instead it was round the back and into to the kitchen,where we received a very warm welcome from everyone.
Aunty Dolly looked just like Grandma,her hubby Uncle Owen had a face that was full of laughter lines,and twinkling,mischievious eyes.And there were Mums cousins,nearer our age than hers,lovely dark eyed Elizabeth,with long dark tresses,she looked like a fairy tale princess.Her younger sister,Eleanor,as fair as Elizabeth was dark,she was giggly and vivacious.Snow White and Rose Red.And then came Willie,just two years older than me,he had an impish grin and a sense of humour to match.There was an elder brother called Edwin ,but we only caught glimpses of him,I think he was doing his national service.
The house was just right ,not too posh that you would feel uncomfortable,but cosy enough to make you feel right at home.
After unpacking, and a bit of tea, Mum and Dad took us for a walk to have a look at the town.There were not many cars about in those days and the streets looked so much wider,there was a very old fashioned feel to the place,a feeling which was heightened when we got to Mostyn Street and saw the horse drawn tramcars.We bought some buckets and spades in one of the gift shops,all ready for our visits to the West shore later in the week.
Our eyes were dazzled by all the nice things for sale in the different shop windows;leaving the Mostyn Street we strolled up on to the Parade with its wonderful terraces of tall Victorian hotels,they really did look grand.
It was then on to the promenade,with its beautiful cast iron scroll work railings and little kiosks ,all painted blue and white,while the wooden boardwalks were bleached white by the sun.
We saw the Livepool ferry tied up at the end of the pier,with its yellow funnel and bright white superstructure,to my small eyes ,she looked like an ocean liner.After a short walk up Happy Valley,it was back to Aunty's for some supper and a nice early bed.We had lots of discovering to do tomorrow.

It was up with the lark next morning,after breakfast,cousin Willie introduced us to the family pets,first there was a loveable,patchy black dog,whose name has been long forgotten,then came the duck ,called,naturally,Donald.He had a quirky character,sometimes aloof,and other times sniffing and gently pecking you,to see if you had any tidbits for him.There were a couple of cats,one of which kept on doing whoopsies on the morning paper.And finally, there was a cockerel,he was the alarm clock for the family,no oversleeping there!
Instead of going out with the family that day,Mum agreed to let Willie take me around LLandudno.We went out along Marine Drive, on the west side,up past the statue of Lewis Carrolls White Rabbit and then on to the Great Orme.
It was so exciting ,Willie knew every nook and cranny,we went into "smugglers" caves,climbed down to the sea and were splashed with spray crashing over the rocks.We went up to the top and saw where the mountain trams came ,the cafe and look out post.We got back to Alexandra Road with a host of stories to tell.Willie was the best and bravest of all my cousins ,hadn't he taken me on a great adventure?
Uncle Owen kept a lot of chickens up in an allotment down the Brynau Road,before going to bed that night,he let me go with him and Willie when he took their feed.This was a noxious brew which Aunty Dolly mixed every day in a big old fashioned dolly tub.This mixture was made up from old fruit and veg,stale cakes and bread plus anything else that could be gleaned from the shops and allotments nearby.
It was Willies job to collect the stuff ,Uncle Owen had made him a superb cart,it could be used for fun ,but its main purpose was to carry the bin in which he put the gleanings.
I didn't want to go to the beach next day,I pleaded with Mum to be allowed to go with Willie on his gleaning round.She gave in,amazed that I was turning down a sunny day at the by the sea shore.
So, off the two of us went,me sitting on the cart with the bin and Willie at the front pulling it along.We went to the cake shop first,the lady dumped a load of jam and cream sponge cakes in ,I was just about to retrieve one when she came out and gave Willie and I a jammy rock cake each.This was the life!
The Grocers and Fruiterers helped fill the bin up some more but we weren't finished yet.
Willies last call was the alloments that lay alongside the railway lines that run into the station.The entrance gate was right down the road toward the station,but Willie would never open a gate if he could climb a fence,and he would never climb a fence if there was a more exciting way to get over it.
In this case there was a more exciting way, along side the fence stood an old gas lamp,just like the ones in our street,two ladder stays at the top on either side of the lamp.
Willie swarms up the pole,grabbing hold of the lamp ,he stands on the ladder stay and launches himself into the air and over the spiked railings.
Standing in the waist high grass the other side ,he tells me to wait there while he fetched the stuff..........No way,I was going to fly!!
I was up that pole and standing on that ladder stay before he could stop me."Look Willie...I'm flying!" I launched myself into space,falling ,falling,falling........and then THUMP!!!!I jerked to a halt,I wasn't on the ground,I couldn't move my head,My legs were scraping something as I dangled,The railings,where's Willie?Why can't I move?
My ears hurt on either side,I can't turn my head.........Theres Willie,in front of me ,screaming..............Theres a terrible taste in the back of my mouth..........I'm trying to pull myself away from the railing but I seem to be stuck.Theres something hard pushing against my jaw when I pull backwards.Behind me there is someone laughing hysterically,and I'm feeling wet all down my front."Up" shouts Willie,"Push yourself up"He runs to me pushing my feet and I push up,and there is a sucking sound as my neck comes free from the spike I was Impaled upon.
"Iv'e got to get to Mum"I was running , there was no pain yet,and I didn't understand what had happened,I was wet and I was red all down my front."Got to get to Mum,she'll make it better"....around the back and up the yard to the Kitchen door,through the window see Dad at the sink having a shave,razor freezes in place on his cheek,Mum at the kitchen door,mouth a blackened circle as she shrieks,stunned into motionlessness.Aunty Dolly,pushing her aside as she reaches up to the drying rail,pulling down a towel,wrapping it around my neck and half carrying, half pulling,she runs me down to the Brynau Road.
The towel is wet through now,a single decker bus from Deganwy is heading for the town,I can still see the drivers face as he sees us,and then the bus goes into a graceful turn ,braking alongside us ,arms reach out and pull me aboard ,the conductor whispering words of kindness,Mum is beside and I'm beginning to hurt.The bus is going like blazes,passengers craning to see what is up.We jerk to a halt out side the hospital doors and some nurses come out and catch me as I fall.......................and then all is blackness.

brian daley

09-10-2007, 11:14 PM

I could hear a young girls voice in my left ear,it was saying"why are you in my bed?"Slowly I became aware of her presence at my side,I tried to turn toward her voice but could not properly move my head.She stood closer and, because I had no pillow beneath my head, I could only see her head and shoulders.A pretty pig tailed girl,she was asking me what I was in hospital for and the memory of the fall returned.I put my hand up to my throat and felt some fabric,I tried to talk and could not work my voice.My hand inadverdently knocked the dressing off my throat and I saw the little girl faint away,A nurse appeared from nowhere and replaced the dressing and the blackness closed in again.
I would like to pause here awhile and ask you to bear with me whilst I ponder at the wonderful series of events that lead from a spike in a Welsh railway cutting to the happy existence that I have enjoyed these many years since.
When that accident happened Britain was recovering from a long and costly war,financial restrictions were put in place that meat that no individual could take more than £25.00 abroad for holidays.A new medical service was finding it's feet,The National Health Service.These few facts had a very great bearing on what was about to happen to me.
I had to go into Myrtle Street Hospital about a year after I had recovered from my Welsh sojourn;Mum told me that I had to have my tonsils out.So in I went and for years afterwards I would enter on to my medical forms in the M.N. that I was tonsil free.
In the Christmas holiday of 1968 I was staying at my wife's house whilst on leave from the M.N.,when I developed the most awful sore throat,it was so bad that I had to go to the ENT hospital in Birmingham.I couldn't speak so I wrote down that I thought I had Quinsey because I'd had my tonsils out 16 years ago.After examining me the Doctor informed me that I had still got my tonsils and that they were very inflamed.Much puzzled by this turn of events,I asked my mother,when I was back in Liverpool,how come I still had tonsils when they were supposed to have been taken out in 1952?
She then told me what had really happened back in LLandudno.
The spike had penetrated the thorax and caused major damage to the larynx.That little hospital put out a call on the NHS network for the help of a throat specialist and,oh blessed financial restrictions,there was a Consultant Surgeon ,a Mr Ferguson,on holiday in LLandudno with his family.
He was based in Myrtle Street hospital and he answered the call for help.
Had the accident occurred 10 years later I would most probably be dumb because the middle classes were then holidaying abroad.Fate is an awesome thing.Those tonsils?Well it was rectification work on the larynx that took place,something that I wouldn't have understood then.

But here we are back in that Welsh hospital;I'm now in a very dark room and there are silvery white lights coming into view,a man with a very kind face leans down toward me ,speaking gently ,he points to what looks like a ball of spinning white gossamer and tells me to blow it away.It hovers in front of my face and I blow and blow and then the world slips sideways.
I have no idea how long I was unconscious,I cannot remember being given any food to eat or liquids to drink.There was just a blurring of reality,all I can recall are the colours of eau de nil and whiteness.The colour of the walls and the ceiling of the room I was in,the doorway was brown and there was a window behind me.I couldn't speak and could barely move my head.I cried for my Mum but for some reason she was never there.Days passed in a drugged blur.One day the nurse came and sat me so that I could see out the window and as I looked I saw Mum and Dad come into view across the field.I can still see them now down all these years,standing in the long grass that was turning to gold,Mum in her gay floral print dress and Dad in his best pale green sports jacket.They stand there waving as they see me through the window,little did I realise that they were waving me goodbye.
A little while after,cousin Willie came in to see me,it was wonderful to be with someone I knew,he gave me all the news,told me that grown ups were not allowed to see me ( I believed him then,now I realise that he was letting me down gently about my family's return to Liverpool)
I was not yet able to do more than croak,but I used to look forward to Willies visits, he was so funny and sometimes he would bring his friends Gordon and Hughie,pretty soon I was feeling at home.Time passed and soon I was eating and managing to get my voicebox back in action.Days became weeks and I was beginning to find it hard to remember what Mum looked like,I would dream that she was by my side but could never see her face.The nurses were so kind as they heard my nightime sobs,I felt so far from home.
And then one day Aunt Dolly came and took me back to Alexandra Rd.
There was such a welcome from everyone,Elizabeth ,Eleanor and Uncle Owen,they treated me like the returning hero and thus began a phase when all sadness was banished and my life became filled with sunlight.
Willy and I shared everything,he gradually introduced me to the rest of his gang and they let me become a fullfledged member of their "mob"
We enjoyed a late summer of scrumping and the hunting of golf balls on the links,the Wooden Horse was on the cinema and we emulated the escapees by burrowing into the sandhills on the links,Our days were filled with adventures along the seashore and up and over the Great Orme.
This was a different world to the one I known in Liverpool and I was happy in it.Sundays would find us scrubbed and polished to a holy sheen as we trooped off to chapel to hear blood and thunder from the pulpit and the soaring hymns from the congregation.After chapel it was back home to a dinner that was fit for kings and then dominoes or ludo while we listened to the Sunday radio.Uncle Owen was funnier than the comics on the wirelesshe knew what made boys laugh and he would keep us children in fits of laughter with his stories and jokes.
As summer gently cooled into autumn the school holidays were ended and I had to be enrolled in the local school,Alexandra Rd.Primary.
I was a figure of curiosity because the Merseyside accent had not yet taken hold in LLandudno and the Welsh was spoken at the school,I was taught in english and learned a little Welsh but there was never a problem
there.My accident was known to nearly all of the pupils and they all had to be shown the "scar",they would always grimace at the sight of it,but it made me many friends.The Alexandra Rd.gang had a rival which was led by Daffy Jones,a much feared leader,but once he had seen my scar he told his gang to leave alone,an unwanted bonus.
I mentioned that when I fell on the spike I could hear an hysterical laugh,it was an old lady whose house backed on to the path that ran along the allotment fence.She had turned odd at the sight of me stuck on the railing and was never the same again,bizarrely,she used to polish that spikehead so that it shone silverlike for years after.
As autumn set in we spent more of our time going to the pictures where I saw such classics as Winchester '73 and Walt Disneys Treasure Island.We always went as a family an experience that I loved.There would be a bag of hot chips on the way home and then time for bed.
Aunt Dolly would take Willy and me to market in Deganwy and Conway and I still cherish the magic of those stalls lit up on the dark nights with the Tilley lamps and paraffin lamps ,clothing their wares with a luminence that gave them a look of treasure.There was always a bun or some other treat before we caught the bus home.Yes,home,for I was now so long without sight or word from Mum that I was beginning to feel like Willys brother.
And then one day Mum came to take me home.Oh,the jumble of feelings that surged within me!There was my Mum,there in the kitchen as though in a dream,was she real?I was frightened to run to her in case I was dreaming............................and then the leaving of my new family,my new schoolfriends,and lovely LLandudno.
The train journey back to Liverpool was not the joyous journey it had been earlier that year.We were stiff and uncomfortable,"why had she left me for so long?""what will our Jess be like,will Betty remember me?","what about Dad?"Silent questions ,unasked and yet to be answered.......................................... ...............................
BrianD

gerrards#1fan

09-12-2007, 09:36 PM

hi brain and welcome to the forums go to warn its a big crowd:hug:

CHRISMIZ

09-12-2007, 09:47 PM

Hi Brian, I havent been reading you're posts recently, I havent been in the right frame of mind to read due to post op medication. Anyway I've got loads to catch up on and really looking forward to it.

brian daley

09-14-2007, 10:23 PM

Going home, after a long time away,is never easy.You expect life there to be the same as when you left.It never is,I learned this when I got back to our lodgings(they could never have been called home).I'd forgotten about our sticks of furniture,we had 2 kitchen chairs,1 dinner table and a rickety old chaise longue,that was the living room/dining room.We had a utility wardrobe and a couple of old beds upstairs and that was our household.
Gaslit and no cooker and this was 1952.
Our Jess was 12 and was gradually becoming chief cook and bottlewasher,feeding me and Bette while Mum And Dad went out to work.I am not going to say it didn't harm us,we could see what our school mates lived like,we often went in to their brightly lit homes,heard music on their radios and sat on proper furniture.Envy was what I felt when I saw how they lived,shame was what I felt if they ever spotted where we lived.
After all that time in LLandudno,where we each had a seat at the table,where we didn't have to take a candle to go upstairs or sing when you heard someone coming towards the unlockable,shared,toilet door.Aunt Dollys' was far from being luxurious,but it had shown me what a home could be like.
I can remember my first meal back at home,the glimmering gaslight in the corner ,Jess and I standing at the table,Dad in one chair and Mum with Bette on her lap,on the other.I just wanted to be elsewhere.
Life at home had really moved on,Bette was now 5 and was like quicksilver,never walked when she could run,and she was very independent.Jess was now in the senior school and was very good at her studies,she loved singing and I think she was in the choir.I can still hear her singing "the Erle King",it must have been a song they were doing in a concert for she sang it repeatedly,perfecting each line.Having no other form of music in the house her sweet voice helped to fill an empty void.
When I returned to school I was in for another reminder of how life moves on without you.In the summer of our trip to Wales,we had been preparing for the Festival of Britain at Tiber Street,that had been and gone by the time I got back.No trip on the H.M.S Britannia for me;my old class had all moved up a year,I was 2 years behind and was stuck in Class 2D,this was for children with learning difficulties,full of children who,cruelly,me and my pals had always made fun of.I was now classed as one of them.Apart from wanting to see my "war wound" my old my mates were afraid to be seen with "one of the 2D mob".
I sat on the front row in class and had a boy and girl either side of me who were not quite "there".Charley and Barbara,they both wore glasses with a patch on the lens,and they both had green candles hanging down their noses,which every now and then they would lick away.
Miss Bell,our headmistress,held a spelling test for the whole school shortly after I returned.We were formed up in a queue outside her office and taken in one by one to be tested on our ability to read words.
She had a large book,the pages the size of a broadsheet,it wasn't a dictionary,there were just columns of words running down the page,three columns to a page,they were not in alphabetical order,I clearly remember that.She had us stand beside her while she pointed with her cane at each word,up and down the columns went the cane and we had to pronounce each word she pointed to.I was going like a train,with no radio or record player,reading was our only entertainment at home.Twice a week of an evening ,Jess would take me up the Lane to the Library where we would choose our books or, sometimes, listen as the librarians read stories.
On and on,I read through the columns until I came to the word SCIENCE,I couldn't get it right and my test came to a halt right then.
She was smiling when she dismissed me,next day I was told that I had come joint first with a girl from the top form,next week I was put into the top class with my old mates.
I used to mispronounce a lot of words,you'd come across new words in a book and tackle them until they sounded right to you,but you could be so wrong.
About this time I had started reading some of the news items in the Echo, as well as Dick Tracy and Curly Wee.I started to become aware of the world about me as a city with suburbs and a waterfront,Birkenhead,Wallasey,Seacombe,Ellesmere Port,Collison and all those other places across the Mersey started to become familiar to me as I read about them in the Echo.That place Collison though,it seemed to be a very dangerous place.My Uncle Bill Worked for British Road Services as a long distance driver,during the summer holidays he would often take me with him.I really enjoyed it,he didn't have any sons and he treated me just right ,never patronising,always pointing out interesting places as we passed by and telling me stories of his time in the Indian army.He was the man to ask about that dangerous place called Collison."Uncle Bill,why are there
more crashes in Colison than anywhere else?" I asked,"Where is Collison?" he replied.I was gobsmacked,this man knew the world and he didn't know Collison!!
I pulled out the front page of last nights Echo,"There" I said pointing to the headline"TWO LORRIES IN COLLSION" That bloody "I",how had I missed it.Uncle Bill had a job containing his laughter.
He drove a petrol engined 10 tonner and we used to go all over the place,having overnight stops in flophouses,three drivers sharing a bed,all strangers.I never thought anything amiss and nor was there for that was the way of the world then.Those greasy spoon cafes were great,you'd get doorstep sized bacon butties,dripping with fat,I'd never heard of cholesterol,just loved the taste,and the best taste of all was a fried bread bacon sandwich.......Iv'e just put a stone on thinking about them.
Thinking about food........................I loved school dinners ,yes ,you read that correctly,we went to Dinorbin Street dinner centre at the top of Parliament Street.It was quite a walk from our school so our appetites were sharpened by the trek.There would be lines of kids from other schools queued up outside and you could smell the nosh outside.Oh,those meaty stews with rich thick gravy and chunky big potatoes,steak and kidney puddings with shortcrust pastry tops which had suety undersides.
Sago,rice,tapioca and semolina puddings,we loved all of it and hardly left the enamel on the plate by the time we ad finished.
Food and sweets were a major preoccupation for us postwar kids;we would watch the American pictures where "Moms" would exhort little Wilbur to drink his milk and finish his cookies,and Wilbur would whinge that he didn't want them.I would be silently screaming at the screen"Give them to me,I'll have them" How in the world could anyone refuse a cookie?It was beyond me.
Time was moving on and we began to see small changes taking place,Lewis's was being rebuilt,boarding started to be erected about the bomb sites in the town centre.There were ships on the river that were painted in company colours instead of the wartime grey,food packaging which had been drab;dark blue boxes for sugar and dried eggs,National Margarine,National Sugar,grey unsliced bread,all of these things started to be replaced on the shelves of our shops,colour was coming into our lives.....................and then the King died.

brian daley

09-16-2007, 01:38 AM

!952 was a memorable year for me,I was now aware of the greater world outside my neighbourhood.The newspapers and the cinema newsreels brought the big world into focus.There was a war in Korea(wherever that was)and our soldiers were being sent out there to fight some people called the communists,The Fying Enterprise was sinking in the English Channel and the newsreel brought us the pictures of her brave Captain,Carlsonn was his name.A man called Ken Dancey jumped from the tug "Turmoil" to try and salvage her.These men were our heroes,fighting the elements,trying to save a dying ship,or so the newsreels said.Most of the stuff we read about
Korea,was from G.I Joe comics or the Blackhawks,it was only as I got older that I heard from men who had been there and learned another side to the story.That war has echoes in todays confict.
But the biggest thing that occurred was the death of King George the sixth.
I had grown up with his face on the stamps,on the walls of my classschool,everywhere in fact,and now he was no more.In the shops,up and down Lodge Lane,black and purple drapes festooned pictures of our late monarch.At school we were assembled in our classes while our teachers read out some words about the death of the king.
There was a sombre feeling that seemed to touch everyone,young and old alike.And then Princess Elizabeth returned from Africa and was proclaimed Queen.
In the meantime I had been hospitalised once more for further work on the throat and so missed a bit more school ,I should mention here that I was almost part time at school now.I was such a regular visitor to the schools clinic in Smithdown Rd. that I used to lose about 2 hours a day on the trip to and from the clinic.Boils and abcesses were my problem,I was forever eructating,bloody great lumps would appear on various parts of my body,red angry mounds with thrusting yellow heads.
My Dad said my neck had more decorations on it than than the Town Hall did for the Festival of Britain.There was a particularly savage nurse at the clinic who seemed to take great pleasure in slapping on red hot poultices on the offending lumps,fixing them into position with extra strong plaster,and then ripping them off a day or so later, removing layers of skin in the process.I went there that often that I was put in charge of the rest of the kids who went from our school.What a parade we made,kids with bandages and plasters,impetigo sufferers with their skin died blue,kids with big dabs of orange over them,for scabies I think,and the shaven headed victims of the nit nurse off for another dowsing of blue unction.
All that was lacking was a bell to warn people that the unclean were on the march.
When the weather turned warmer,Dad took me for a ride on a Crosville bus,the 120,we were going to Speke he told me,I had no idea where Speke was,but it seemed a nice journey.We passed through Aigburth and and Grassendale,which were lovely and green,with trees lining the road,and then on into Garston,which was still a distinct vilage.Up and over the big railway bridge and then we stopped outside of a large group of tenements.I thought they looked lovely with their red tiled roofs and white paned windows so neat and orderly."Take a good look at them son" said Dad,"We've got a chance of getting one of them"
My heart nearly burst out of its chest;we might live there,in that beautiful place.I couldn't believe it and I didn't want to hope too much in case it never happened.
Dad had been writing letters to our M.P.,the council and even Sir David Maxwell Fyffe, the Home Secretary.His letters bore fruit and one day he showed us all the reply from the Home Office.We were going to e rehoused,we didn't now when, but we were going.
For the first time in years we had something to look forward to.
I was afraid to tell my mates in case it never happened,so life went on pretty much as usual.There were new things happening though,the electrical shop at the top of the Lane had a television set in the window.It was amazing,moving pictures on a wireless..............It cost £76-00d,can you imagine,my Dads wages were about £8-00d a week,how on earth could anyone afford to buy one.To us, it was all academic anyway,we didn't have electricity.
The pictures was where we got our entertainment,Jess and I were now allowed to go to the early evening shows,the only problem was you needed to be in the company of an adult to gain admission.We used to stand alongside the queue,proffering our sixpences to grown ups,asking"Can you take us in Mister?"We always succeeded in getting in,and without harm I might add.
Spring slowly bloomed into summer,school would soon be over and those long lazy days yawned ahead,but we could feel the changes in the air,the whispered conversations between our parents about what ifs and how and when .Change was on the way.

gerrards#1fan

09-16-2007, 10:01 AM

go steady on your post lol you keep doing them the same:gossip:

shytalk

09-16-2007, 02:00 PM

go steady on your post lol you keep doing them the same:gossip:

I haven't seen any repeated, seems like a continuing story to me.

brian daley

09-22-2007, 04:15 PM

When I look in the mirror nowadays I quite often see my granddad looking back at me,shiny bald dome with silvery white hair about the ears.It wasn't always thus.Hair and the profusion of it caused me grief and embarassment at Tiber Street school for Miss Bell,our headmistress,insisted that boys had short back and sides for haircuts.Fringes and long hair were anathema to her.But haircuts cost money and anything that wasn't absolutely essential was considered a luxury ,and that was the heading that haircuts came under in our house.
A few tears earlier,Granddad Hengler had tried to help out with the barbering situation by giving me a basin cut,shoving a pudding basin on my head and cutting off all the hair that showed beneath it.That would most probably be right on fashion today,but back then it was deadly blushmaking.So there I was,just a few days away from my 10th birthday and my hair down over my ears,my fringe down to my nose,so much so that my mates called me Curtains.At Friday morning assembly,Miss Bell called me out and there,in front of the whole school,she tied a blue ribbon in my hair and announced that "If a boy wants to have hair like a girl,he should dress like a girl too".As I walked back to my seat my cheeks burned with humiliation.I was made to wear the ribbon for the rest of the day.
Mum was adamant that she couldn't afford a haircut,I dreaded school next week.
Saturday mornings post included some letters and birthday cards for me,there was a big one from Llandudno and I opened that one first.It was quite an elaborate card ,there was a wishing well on the front and a little winding handle on the side,which ,when turned ,raised a little cardboard bucket.I did so and when the bucket came up there was a shiny silver half crown in it! Mum ,who had been looking over my shoulder,swiftly pocketed it and gave me sixpence in return."You can go and get your haircut now son",was all she said.Good old Aunty Dolly,she had not only saved me from further embarassment at school, but had most probably paid for the gas that weekend as well.
It was now official,we were being allocated a tenement flat in Speke Road Gardens,we would be moving before the end of term.
I was beset with mixed feelings,I couldn't wait to get out of that rathole ,but I loved Lodge Lane.I knew it so well now,there were a lot more shops open ,among them Rays' Cafe.It wasn't in the same class as Capaldis or Reeces,but Mrs Ray did nice home made cakes and a glass of pop at prices we kids could afford.Williams cake shop,where a halfpenny would get you a dollop of peanut butter on a piece of greaseproof paper,delicious.At the sweetshop on the top corner of Tiber Street,we got off the ration delicacies such as Locus,a semi dried fruit that had the consistency of soft toffee,Stickylice(liquorice)little pieces of twig which could be chewed for hours ,giving you a tangy taste.Cinnamon stick,which we lit and smoked like cigarettes(Schoolboys Whiffs) Tiger nuts,chewy squidgy little things.When sweet rationing ended those delicacies disappeared into herbalist shops and were never eaten by choice again.
I still think of some of the schoolmates that I was sorry to leave behind,what kind of lives did they have and where are they now?Billy Duncan,the class comic,Tony Sproule,classmate and friend,Jimmy Duggan, possessor of a wonderful imagination,Lenny Pugh,my constant dinner companion,our trips to the dinner centre were always enjoyable, Stanley Gill,quiet and steadfast ,we got on well.I haven't seen any of them since we moved away,but thats life.
It seemed to take forever to get moved to Garston,Mum and Jess had to do lots of trips down there to get things in shape for moving in.We had three bedrooms,a bathroom,a kitchen and a dining /living room.It even had electricity...................no more gas mantles!!
We moved in 2 weekends before the end of term.It was summertime and I can still recall the excitement as I walked up up those sparkling clean stairs to to our fourth floor flat.The walls on the landings were painted in 2 tone,the top a light peach tinted cream,and the lower half,maroon.Not a bit of graffiti anywhere.The front doors were scarlet,with six little panes of frosted glass at the top and a beautiful shiny brass letter box and knocker in the middle.This was my introduction to 17c,my new home.What kind of future lay in store for us now?

gerrards#1fan

09-22-2007, 07:08 PM

go steady on your post lol you keep doing them the same:gossip:oh it must be me seeing things but he has wrote a lot lol:handclap::handclap:

shytalk

09-22-2007, 07:35 PM

oh it must be me seeing things but he has wrote a lot lol:handclap::handclap:

You might find this hard to understand, because you haven't lived through the hardship people did years ago. If you go back even further it was even worse than this, look up the history of the workhouses you will see what I mean.
BTW most of us hope he will write a lot more.:handclap:

Kev

09-22-2007, 07:49 PM

Me too, keep 'em coming. I suspect Mr D has these already written. I certainly couldn't type all that lot in!

:PDT11

brian daley

09-22-2007, 11:50 PM

I'm not very well versed in P.C. language...................what does lol mean?
Thanks for the support some of you have shown my postings,but honestly I don,t know what the hell I'm going to post before I sit down at the keyboard.The memories come surging forward and I try to marshall them into some kind of order.........and life doesn't work to order,it just happens and we have to handle it the best way we can.So stick with me if you want to,there is a lot more,but you don't have to read it.
Cheers,BrianD

shytalk

09-23-2007, 12:00 AM

It means 'Laugh out loud'. I never use it. I think it looks daft.

Kev

09-23-2007, 10:36 AM

Thanks for the support some of you have shown my postings,but honestly I don,t know what the hell I'm going to post before I sit down at the keyboard.The memories come surging forward and I try to marshall them into some kind of order.........and life doesn't work to order,it just happens and we have to handle it the best way we can.So stick with me if you want to,there is a lot more,but you don't have to read it.
Cheers,BrianD

Keep the posts coming Brian and thank you for spending time posting them, :handclap:

Steven

09-23-2007, 12:15 PM

Brill posts Brian I have really enjoyed reading and want to say a big TA for sharing.

gerrards#1fan

09-23-2007, 02:16 PM

You might find this hard to understand, because you haven't lived through the hardship people did years ago. If you go back even further it was even worse than this, look up the history of the workhouses you will see what I mean.
BTW most of us hope he will write a lot more.:handclap:
ok lol i didnt know im not that old i know someone that was born in 1902 and they are still alive

brian daley

09-24-2007, 09:02 PM

Opening that door,with "our"key was a very special moment.This was the first unshared abode that our family had.Stepping inside, it seemed so spacious to what we had been used to.The hallway had all the rooms off it and had little red tiles on the floor,the bedrooms were laid with lino and the living room had bare wood floors.Very basic, but this was early days.
Mum showed me my room,there was a "new" bed in it,I found out later that it was a hospital bed off a ship,solid iron with drop down sides and feet with bolt holes,that bed was going to be indestructible.
Soon after we'd settled in we went to have a look at our surroundings,we lived in a quadrangle,our block had six homes per floor and there were 5 floors.Opposite stood a similar block with only 4 homes per floor,and that too had 5 storeys,to the left of the square stood a 2 storey block,which was called the White Cottages and this had 3 homes per floor.In the middle of the square stood a large air raid shelter,and to the right of the square was our playground.the play ground was surrounded on 2 sides by an ornamental railing and on the far side,away from our square ,by another 2 blocks of 5 storey flats.
In later years ,I heard many people say how bleak such places were,nothing could be further from the truth,a child could play in that square and playground and always be looked over by concerned adults.
The play ground itself had baby swings,junior swings,a witches hat,a jerker,maypole,monkey bars,merry go round and an 8 seater rocking horse,things we had to go to the park for in Lodge Lane.
As we walked around the playground the local kids looked warily at us,weighing us up.That night passed without incident and bedtime was,for me,exciting.My own room at last.I stood at my window, after we said our goodnights ,and surveyed my little kingdom,not much in the room but the view was great,from 4 floors up I could see over to the Matchworks,the traffic on Speke Road.....................and all the flats opposite.Ideal for a peeping tom!I never took the opportunity.
It must have been a weekend when we moved for there was no school the next day and I found myself on my own so I went out on a further exploration.I didn't get very far when I was met by a group of boys my own age coming up the stairs to our landing.They were the welcoming committee
John Tillett,Tony Ross, Norman ?,one of the Quirk boys and Wally Carr.
They wanted to know who I was,where I was from,and if I would fight John Tillett!!!These boys took no prisoners and pretty soon John and I were kicking and punching like Kilkenny cats.The next thing I knew was that we were pulled apart by our new next door neighbour ,Mrs.Matthews;John had a small cut over his eye and my card was marked as a bad 'un.
Thankfully,it was a reputation that didn't last long.John and I became friends and I was gradually accepted into the gang.
There was an hierarchy in the square,at the top you had the older boys and girls,up to about !5 years of age,then came the 12 to 14 year olds and then us,the 10 and upward group.
The square,s gang was like a family,or even a military grouping,but more of that later.
Come Monday morning ,Mum took me down to Banks Road school to get enrolled,there were only 2 weeks of the term left,but she had taken time off work for the move and she didn't want us roaming the streets when she wasn't there.
I was still acting the big lie,i.e.,making out that I was one year older than I really was;after all when I was still at Tiber Street the class I was in was due to go up to the senior school after the holidays.
So ,when we got to Banks Road Mum told the secretary whatever,and the next thing I knew was that I was taken to a classroom that had the children in who were due to go to the senior school.
They were a great bunch,Jimmy Lothian in particular,he lived in the next block to ours and he quickly showed me the ropes.
I was only there 2 weeks but I would go there lots of times on a winters evening for they had a great play centre.
The summer break came on like an express train and Garston and Speke were wonderful places for young boys to grow up in,we had the Airport,Garston shore,Oglet,Hale,Woolton Woods,and "over the ironbridge".
Horrocks Avenue estate was not yet built,the were site markers in the ground,but that summer saw fields as big as the prairies,adult free all the way to Allerton and Hunts Cross.
Some of the most Epic battles of the century took place in those fields,the different squares(there 3 main squares comprising the Tennies)formed separate armies and fought pitched battles against each other,Japs and Commandos,Cavalry and Injuns,Nazis and Brits.We played them all at times.We had dug foxholes all over the place and our wars ranged far and wide over the whole area.I can remember one exciting ,life and death battle,we had the enemy at the point of surrender and had pushed them right back to the foot of their block,they had nowhere to go..............this was it.Where Monty had failed at Arnhem,Ronnie Jones our General was going to show us how it should have been done.Over the sound of battle came the cry"Ralph....yer teas on the table!!!!!"And Ralph Gherkin,our mortal foe, stepped out of his foxhole and went home to tea.
Our battles were all pretend and we were all the best of mates at school,but rivals in the squares.
Excepting for the "battles" we mainly kept to our to our own groups and summer passed by in such a series of adventure.
Our block of flats had been built in 1929 and a lot of the tenants had moved in at that time,they had brought up families and had a fierce pride in their square.They had painted the landings themselves for the Festival of Britain and each family was responsible for scrubbing the flight of stairs adjacent their flat on a rotational basis,in our case we were responsible for scrubbing 2 flights of stairs once every three weeks.Mum and Jess did that job,and it was woe betide any kid who dared make them dirty,you could chalk on the play ground but never on the walls or the stairs.It was an orderly little world,and one that was giving us the real feeling of being at home.

lindylou

09-25-2007, 02:25 PM

brilliant posts Brian. You are a gifted writer :handclap:

gerrards#1fan

09-28-2007, 05:27 PM

lol brian what level you in writing you a pure writer keep it going:PDT11

brian daley

09-30-2007, 02:27 AM

Although we had left Lodge Lane,we hadn't severed all our ties with it,Mum still had her"slate" at Bessie Holdens and Dad still had his collars starched at the chinese laundry.When we first moved,it was Jessies' job to go and get the groceries and laundry,as time passed the journey to Bessie Holdens stopped ,but Dad still had his collars done at the chinamans.
Let me tell you about dad and his clothes,he was a snappy dresser,never wore ready made suits,always had them made by a tailor called Mr Duggan.He would come to our flat and measure him up and then come back for the fittings.He had a fine collection of suits and cut a handsome figure when dressed up.He always reminded me of the actor Fred Mcmurray,in his lounge suits he had real class.My mates used to ask if he was a detective or special agent and I used to feel so proud if the way he looked,I promised myself,even at that young age,that I would be as smart as him some day.
He worked hard at staying smart,Saturday afternoon would find him polishing his shoes to a military gloss,checking out his apparel for that night out and making sure that his Sunday outfit was o.k. too.
His trouser press was under the mattress of their double bed,he would leave his trousers there all week,ensuring a razor sharp crease for the weekend.his shirts were boiled and starched by the Pioneer Laundry and our oriental friend in Toxteth took care of his collars......................................until a very unfortunate incident occurred.
Our Jess passed on to me the task of fetching Dads' collars now that there was no grocery to collect,I didn't mind this because it gave me the chance to keep in touch with Ikey Harris and I used to walk from Garston and thus pocket the busfare which gave me enough for an extra night at the pictures.
I would walk through Grassendale to Sefton Park and then on up the lane;being a Saturday there was no pressure on me for time and I would stroll leisurely around the park lake on the way back,loking at the model yachts and generally enjoying the sights.
Dads collars were always wrapped up in a brown paper parcel,tied with string and had a label attached which had chinese letters on it.I used to shove this inside my lumberjacket,thus leaving my hands free to pick up sticks .pick my nose, scratch my ears,or any of those things that you need a free hand for.
One particular Saturday I was making my way around the lake when I heard a voice calling from the opposite shore"Hullo ,You there" I looked across and saw a man calling to me,he was pointing to a beautifully rigged model yacht that was heading towards me,"Turn her round please" he called.Without thinking ,I leaned forward and turned her about and ,as I did so, the parcel of collars slipped from my jacket and splashed into the water.I was horrified,Dad was still a martinet and I was a dead boy."What the hell was I doing in the park?"he was sure to ask that question ,"Where was the bus fare?"Oh, was I was a goner!!.But the parcel didn't sink,it dipped under and then floated.I was old enough to know that you shouldn't hold wet paper too firmly and so lifted it gingerly from the water and laid it on the grass to dry.The day was warm and sunny and old Sol did a brilliant job of drying that parcel,so good in fact that you would never have guessed that there had been a mishap at all.The label was still intact and the unsuspecting eye wouldn't know a thing.
When I got home I put them on the kitchen shelf as usual and made myself scarce.That night ,as Dad was getting ready,I heard him explode with anger at the state of his collars"That little *******,look at them,they're like prawn crackers!! I,m not sending any more collars to him again" Phew!!That poor old laundryman carried the can for my misdeeds.
Now that we had a place of our own we began to see a lot more of our relatives,on a Saturday night Mum and Dad would go up to the Coffee House in Woolton where they often met up with Dads relatives.Come closing time they would nearly always come back to our place with a crate of ale,Mum would have had a pan of pea soup and spare ribs simmering on the stove,which our Jess took care of ,so that when they arrived it was ready for consumption.You know ,those ribs were so well done that you could eat the bones , no trouble.You could stand your spoon up in the soup.
The Daleys' were a musical crowd,Dad was a great singer,like a cross between Bing Crosby and Al Bowley,his brother George,a big powerful man, with a voice to match,sang like Eddy Fisher;indeed he sang professionally in the pubs in Liverpool until quite recently.And then there was Great Granddad Maher,a bull of a man,he'd been a donkey greaser on the White Star and Cunarders,and had lost a lot of his fingers so that he just had stumps,but he could play a concertina with the best of them.
So ,Saturday nights at 17c were a lot livelier than we had ever experienced anywhere else.Jess and I were often called from our beds to perform our party pieces,she with Me And My Shadow and one or two other songs,and me with my bits and pieces from that long ago minstrel show.
Our uncle Harold had a second hand car business and he would ferry everyone home,blind drunk the lot of them,already for mass in the morning.
No matter how much Dad put away on a Saturday,he was still up with the lark on Sunday,getting the saltfish on the go to the sound of Alastair Cookes letter from America on the radio.YES,we now had a radio!!!Oh ,the magic that little brown and cream box now brought into pour lives.Dad put it on the highest shelf in the wall cupboard to ensure that we never fiddled with the dial,in fact he used to feel the case when he got in to make sure we hadn't been using it.It was a valve radio and got hot when it had been on for awhile.
Of course we "fiddled" with it,thats how we discovered Radio Luxemburg,AFN and Radio Athlone,great stations for the Yankee records,we always made sure it was put back on the Light Programme before Dad got home.
The school holidays were fast drawing to a close and it was soon time to go to my next school,Gilmour Heath Road Secondary Modern.It was a boys school and had been built in the 30's and was much newer than Tiber Street or Banks Road.It was in Allerton,a much posher area than Garston and it had huge playing fields.The classrooms were bright and airy and the whole place had a drive and impetus about it that I had never felt in the other schools.The head master,MrSimpson,was a very grand personage,he had a wooden leg,it was believed he lost his leg in the trenches,and came to school each moring in a chauffeur driven Daimler.The head boy would meet him at the pavement edge and take his briefcase in one hand and his arm in the other.Any boys who were in the vicinity of the gate had to form a line and greet him with a "Good Morning Sir" as he made his stately progress into to school.
All of our teachers were ex servicemen,some from the Great War and the younger ones,from the Second War.My first teacher,Mr.Parry was one of the younger generation,he was kind and helpful and we boys really liked him,a kind of hero worship developed.
Most of the boys who were at Banks Road were here as well as boys from the CofE school and the local junior school in Allerton,we would be together for the next four years.
I'll never forget that first day,we were all lined up in the yard ,and Mr Haigh ,the Deputy head and Miss Pugh the school secretary,were checking us off and detailing us to our new classes.When she came to me,she drew a blank."Who are you boy?"she sked,"Daley,Miss,Brian Daley"."Well you're not on my list young man" she replied."We've only just moved here from Toxteth Miss"I told her.She Took details of my old school,Tiber Street ,and I left it at that.2 weeks later I was called to her office and was told that my records had been lost in the post and that they would sort everything out.So I was still a year ahead of myself.
I was going to like this school,not only did it look good ,but it felt good too.

John(Zappa)

10-01-2007, 03:15 PM

Bloody good read that.Enjoyed it.:PDT_Piratz_26:

lindylou

10-01-2007, 06:04 PM

smashing stuff Brian :handclap: you should definately get this published - I'm sure a book like this would sell loads.

brian daley

10-03-2007, 12:16 AM

It still rankled with me that I had missed the Festival of Britain,the square we lived in had remnants of the decorations here and there, my new school had illustrations of the Festival site in London and the motif,that three pointed star topped by the head of Britannia,was everywhere.In our art classroom,there were paintings by the pupils showing all manner of images of the wonder of the modern age..................and I had missed it all.Well there was now talk of something even greater than that old Festival,and I was going to make sure that I wouldn't miss out on that;we were going to have a coronation!!
You couldn't miss the news about it,in every paper ,magazine,childrens comics and on the newsreels,there were nonstop items of what 1953 would bring.Now I don't know how the Earl Marshall of England,the Duke Of Norfolk,was planning for the day itself,but the women in our square were very well organised.I don't know who was in charge,I was too young for that,what I do know was that plans were afoot for our square to have a celebration to beat them all.Almost a year in advance dicussions were taking place as to who should do what and how they should do it.These people had celebrated V.E. day and the Festival of Britain but this was going to top them all.Collections were held for the decorations,all the men got together ,landing by landing,to set about painting the walls come springtime.After years of drab greyness, colour started to come into our world.And I'd like to dilate on that world if I may.
Speke Road Gardens sat majestically between the matchworks,Bryant and Mays,the railway sidings,Speke airport and the docks.
Blackwells foundry lay just over the bridge and behind that lay Garston gasworks.When you walked into Garston ,you walked through clouds of thick black smoke that issued from Blackwells chimneys,you breathed in the sulphurous fumes from the gasworks and your ears were filled with the sounds of steam trains chugging as they heaved their loads from Garston docks whilst overhead was the drone of the Dakotas taking off and landing at the airport.The docks were but a stones throw away and you could hear deep throated sounds of the ships whistles,mixed with with toot toot of the tugboats as they travelled up river.Garston thrived with industry,you knew that when you left school you were going to have a job.Thus was the world I now lived in;as I lay abed in my room at night,I knew that one day I would be sailing down that river to places unknown.
But,I had to grow up yet ,there was school tomorrow.
Our school had a very strict code of discipline,corporal punishment was meted out for any misdemeanours,the Headmaster would administer the punishing of any thing that was deemed serious,teachers could cane you at any time in class.Our form master,Mr Parry never dished out any rough stuff,we thought he was O.K.
I was still in the first year and heard that there was a form of punishment that was talked about in whispers,The Mystery Tour!!This was a system whereby a boyhad to go to every classroom in the school and get beaten by the different teachers, right there in front of the class.
I had been there six months by now and had ever seen that punishment take place;I had seen many canings though.
We were always having fund raising drives at Heath Road,we had football teams,rugby teams,swimming teams,cricket teams and athletic teams and they all needed money,and we got it by fund raising.
One of the most lucrative ways of raising money was by collecting jam jars,we used to get thousands of them,and the school used to give prizes at the end of term to the boys who collected the most jars.
The Avenues to the north of our school were very affluent,a lot of the houses had cooks and maids,dinnertime would find me and my trolley going door to door collecting the empty jars.This one day I had a load so great that it was taking me forever to pull it back to school,but I knew that it was a prize winning load that I had aboard,I checked it in with the caretaker and went off to my class feeling like a hero.............I was late ,everyone was at their desks and Mr Parry stood at the front.He seemed cross and I heard him say "Daley,go on a mystery tour!" I couldn't believe it ,but he stood there pointing at the door.Speechless with shock ,I set off on my journey around the school,12 classrooms,12 teachers,I was beaten on the hands,legs and buttocks,standing in front of class after class,barely able to speak the words "Mystery Tour" as I approached each master.When I got back to the door of my class,I couldn't go in for I was crying with pain and was sore all over.The door opened and Mr Parry stood there looking at me ,"Where the heck have you been Daley?"he asked.I couldn't speak but showed him my hands,full of red welts.He looked horrified "What have you done" ,I managed to sob "I went on the Mystery Tour sir". He laid his hand tenderly on my shoulder and said "You silly,silly boy,I told you to go and stand outside the door"
He put his hand in his pocket and gave me a shilling,"Go the pictures tonight boy....and listen carefully in the future"After that ,you bet your sweet life I did.I don't recall ever seeing another boy go on a Mystery tour...........Those jam jars?I got a swimming costume next prize giving day,treasured it for years.

Ged

10-03-2007, 12:34 PM

Fantastical writings Brian, briliant recollections and you paint a picture which has us living it with you as though it were yesterday.

You can find some Speke Road Gardens pictures here and many more

http://pic7.piczo.com/inacityliving/?g=30679502

Keep the memories coming.

Steven

10-03-2007, 12:56 PM

Absolutely superb Brian. You brought back so many memories with your vivid and inspired words.

ChrisGeorge

10-03-2007, 02:41 PM

Hi Brian

Great reminiscences, Brian. I am handing them on to my 87-year-old Mum who used to live in Garston on Inwood Road. They should bring back memories for her as well. Bravo. :handclap: :snf (41):

Chris

lindylou

10-03-2007, 04:13 PM

I've been showing Brian's posts to my dad. :)

brian daley

10-03-2007, 10:03 PM

It wsn't a palace,but by god it was a step up from what we were used to.That little 3 bedroomed flat seemed enormous to me when we moved in,it had everything,a kitchen with a stove and a boiler,a big hot water tank that was heated by the living room fire,electricity,a bathroom and 3 bedrooms,for the first time in my short life I wasn't ashamed of bringing my mates home.
We were still a bit short in the furniture department,we each had a chair at the table though ,and Dad had treated himself to a rocking chair.The chaise longue stood in the bay at the front of the room,so there was a lot of space for us to play in.Mum had bought a big jute mat for the living room,nowhere near as posh as a carpet but it softened the sound of our feet on the floor so as not to annoy the folk who lived beneath us.
And that was a real consideration , those floors transmitted every sound right through to the ceiling below.We were lucky with the people above us,they had lived there for years and never gave us anything to complain about,they were far from shrinking violets,having teenaged children who were very lively.
Our next door neighbours were alright too,not having a wireless,they were very quiet at night,On the other side of the stairs was a "different " family.
Old Mrs.T lived with her two middle aged sons,one was a woodcutter and the other had lost his mind.I shan't call them by name ,it would be hurtful to do so ;the woodcutter always looked angry and ready to blow his top,whilst his brother used to stare vacantly into space.No one ever insulted them or made the usual calls that kids did to those who were different.It was strange,like living next door to uncaged tigers.The elder brother was hardly ever seen without his old army overcoat on,most nights he would bring home big logs,3 or 4 foot long ,and he would cut them up on his doorstep.I remember one summers eve, when he was chopping away at a huge log ,sweating profusely,when he stopped,went into his flat and came out with a hammer and nail,which he proceeded to knock in to the wooden front door.And then he hung his coat upon it.
Mum used to say that Mrs,T. had a lot to put up with,we were never to how much she had to put up with until many years after we had left Garston,when we heard that she had been axed to death by her son.
But that was way in the future, our neighbours to the right end of the landing were the Hamptons,a nice couple ,with an even nicer daughter,Pat,who was quite the prettiest girl on the block.They seemed fairly well to do and were always very pleasant,Frank was the father but I can't remember his wifes name.The end flat was occupied by the Barnett family,Florrie was the matriarch,a lovely woman who loved a glass of stout.They had an African grey parrot that used to sit on its' perch, outside the front door,whistling and singing,whenever strangers called,the parrot would shout "she's not in" and some of them turned and left.
So these were our close neighbours for a few years,there were a lot of the families within our square whose children were now grown and had left to start families of their own.The first family to go, would be our neighbours upstairs,the Jones,but that was a little way in the future.1952 had not yet run its course and Christmas was on the way.
This would be our first Christmas in a house of our own,Mum and Dad were working hard to make ends meet and Mum was determined to see that her children did not go short.Sturlas cheques and the talleyman provided her with the wherewithal,all she had to do was pay them back,at a huge interest rate.But you don't know that when you're a kid.
Both Mum and Dad used to work five and a half days a week,leaving Jessie to look after the major household chores,I did the dishes and polished the brass,but our kid was forever cooking ,scrubbing and tidying up.
Mum would go shopping in the town centre on a Saturday,getting cheap cuts of meat in St.Johns market and the veg too.We used to sit in the bay overlooking the road,watching out for her return ,Dad ,who would have had a couple of pints on the way home,would sit in his rocking chair,nodding off to sleep.The Saturday before christmas, he came home just a bit worse for wear and was in a grouchy frame of mind,we ignored him and sat there looking out of the window ,Mum should be home soon. Jess said to me "Can
you smell burning?" I sniffed,"Yeah" She then turned and saw that Dad was
smouldering.He had droppped his cigarette when he fell asleep and was just about to ignite.Jess shook him awake and he gave us all such a look, you would have thought we had set him alight! When Mum got home he told her that I had been wafting the embers trying to get a fire going.
Dad used to cut himself a lot when shaving ,he used a Gillete safety razor
The only thing was,Jess and I always sharpened our pencils with his blades when he was out at work.He never found out,but you could hear him cursing in the kitchen that they didn't make blades like they used to.Jess and I kept our heads down and went on with our drawing.
Christmas was a week away and we were getting excited........................
BrianD

Ged

10-04-2007, 03:41 PM

So am I, so am I....

brian daley

10-04-2007, 08:54 PM

The thing I loved about Garston was the wealth of characters that dwelt there and the nature of the "village".Come on a walk with me from our house;we go over the bridge,past Blackwells,cough,cough,and here we're just
passing Horrocks Avenue on the right hand side,the 86 tram runs up there,past my school,through Allerton and all the way to to town.On the corner of Horrocks Avenue stands Henry Wilsons,they make stuff for the army and navy stores.Pickfords garage is just down from there and you can see the heavy haulage wagons parked up on the central reservation ,monstrously sized,these are the wagons that haul anchors,chains and propellors amongst other things.On the other side of the road are of couple of terraced streets and then a vast open stretch which rises to a fair old height,on the part that is at ground level stands a solitary black sentry box,which,on a closer look,turns out to be a sandwich "shop".Within waits a little old lady who will do you a dripping crust for a penny,or a piece of toast for a ha'penny more.The "shop " was made of wood and was covered in a kind of oilskin.It was just big enough for her to turn around in,I don't know what she used to cook on, the place closed down
before I was big enough to see over the counter.But I loved that dripping toast.There was a big sandstone cliff face for about 50 yards,after which was the Trustee Savings Bank and then Irwins grocers.
Back up on the other side of the road was the tram and bus garage,there would be a steady stream of drivers and conductors milling about,some just arriving and some getting ready to go.
Down past the garage was the heart of Garston ,the Washouse,you would see the ladies heading there with familys' weekly wash,all in a bundle which they carried on their heads.There were still a few "Mary Ellens" about at that
time,wearing linsey skirts which ended just below the knee,black lisle stockings and a black top too.They wore beautiful woollen shawls,which had intricate patterns, around their shoulders and on their feet they had black lace up boots.Their hair was done up in a bun on their crown,this acted as a cushion for the heavy loads they carried there.They would have seemed more at home in a 19th century fishing village as they smoked their little white clay pipes.Both my mother and sister became members of the washhouse sorority,and ,though the work was hard,they enjoyed the companionship they found there.
Cheek by jowl stood the Baths,our sports master sweated blood trying to teach me to swim there,his name was Bert Holmes and he had been on Britains Olympic swimming team between the war.I was not one of his successes.
The crossroads at the bottom had a big pub on the corner that led down to
"under the bridge",sitting with his backside on the middle window ledge ,was Manxie,our village bobby,and a bigger.fatter bobby there never was.Everyone knew him ,and vice versa,you could hear his laughter half way up Saint Mary's Road.And that was a nice road then,there were cakeshops,pubs,shoe shops and chemists,sweet shops,clothes shops banks and hardware stores.Lloyds where the latest bicycles,radios and televisions filled the windows.Appletons,the windows a wonderland of colour withthe new wallpapers and paints.
We had two cinemas in Garston,the Empire,where the ushers and doormen were decked out like Ruritanian generals,and the Lyceum ,which was more down market but popular with courting couples because it had twin seats at the back of the stalls.
Along these streets would flow a river of people,Soft Sid,an immaculately turned out old man with a mental age of a 5 year old.He would call in all the shops waving a cheery hullo,his smile would light up your day.Yarbo,a villainous looking character who walked with one foot in the gutter,swooping every now and then to scoop up a cigarette end.He carried an old shopping bag which he would fill as the day went on.
The Swearer,this was a big fat jolly looking man who would get on the bus and proceed to utter the foulest of profanities for the whole journey.We none of us were aware of Turettes disease then.
And the Man with no Nose,this poor fellow used to walk around holding two handkerchiefs which he covered his nose with ,every now and again he would lift them and reveal a gaping great hole where his nose should have been.Garston accepted them all,there were no kids cat calling after these poor afflicted souls,they were just part of village life.
So ,there you are then,my village.

brian daley

10-06-2007, 01:23 AM

I can't remember the Christmas season starting in late Autumn as it does now,with us it began to get Christmassy just a few weeks before the big day.
About a fortnight before,we would start making the multi coloured paper chains in readiness for the the "official" start which was two or three days before Christmas Eve.
We didn't have a fridge in those days so the goose,or leg of pork was left in the butchers until Christmas Eve itself.Like most people then,Mum saved up in the Butchers club ,sixpence a week,to buy the festive meat.
This year we were going to have both a leg of pork and a goose.Now that Mum had a proper stove she was showing just how good a cook she really was.We had two stoves in fact,for the range in the living room had an oven and 2 hobs.This was a great iron contraption,very modern in 1929,but considered a nuisance in 1952,it had to be blackleaded every Saturday,yes,you guessed it,by our Jess.Today a yuppie would snap your arm off to buy one , back then Mum couldn't wait to get rid of it.
The weekend before the holiday,I was given some money to take our Bette to Lewis's grotto.They were always fabulous affairs and we excitedly boarded the 82 to go to town.When the conductor came for the fares,I handed him the 10 shilling note Mum had given me and ,after he had dropped the change in my hand ,I counted it and it was 2 shillings short.He was collecting the fare off a soldier in the seat behind me and I told him he hadn't given me enough change.He called me a liar and said that he had counted it out, so I was trying it on.2 shillings was an awful lot of money to me,and my Mum wanted her change!
I held out the money he had given me and asked him to count it,he started to get angry when,the soldier uncurled himself from his seat.He was enormous;" How much was the fare?"he asked ,I showed him the tickets,"Wheres the change?" I gave it him."This is 2 bob short mate",he said to the conductor."Give him his money" he demandedThe conductor,red faced ,gave me 2 shillings.When we got off the bus,I felt a little lump in my coat pocket,it was the 2 shilling piece.Somehow it had slipped through my fingers and found its way into my open pocket.I felt really sorry for that conductor ,honestly,he had been humiliated for doing nothing wrong.
But 5 minutes later,we were in the grotto and all was forgotten.
We had a christmas party at school before breaking up,we all took cakes,jellies and trifles.It was fantastic,all the rules were suspended on that last day and the whole thing ended in a massive bunfight.The season could now begin!
Our little home was magically transformed by the paperchains and tinsel,a tree was put in the window bay and all was set for Christmas Eve.
When we lived in Mozart Street,Jess and I knew what we were getting for Christmas presents because Mum was very poor at hiding them;when we were on our own,Jess would prise open the wardrobe door, just enough to get our presents out(they were not wrapped yet)and we would have a little play and put them back.Not now though,the pressies had been well hid so that this year we could really act surprised.
Even though I was ten and a half,I still got butterflies going to bed on Christmas Eve,it took ages to get asleep,but the sandman soon got to you and next thing you knew was it was CHRISTMAS!!!
When I awoke, I could hear Bette and Jess opening their presents as I was opening mine,there was an Eagle annual,a Dan Dare ray gun,some games and some new clothes.More than I'd ever had on a christmas morn before.
When we got out of bed there were some more presents,one that I remember still,a hardbacked edition of Robinson Crusoe,it was from my Aunt Sally and I treasured it for years.
It was still salt fish for breakfast and then on with our new togs and off to the "rellies" in Walton to wish them all the best ,swap some presents,pick up a lot of pocket money and get back home for Mums first Christmas dinner.
There was a magic in the air at Yuletide,as you walked along Walton Road ,strangers would call out greetings,families in their brand new clothes off to church or Grandmas,children playing with their new bikes and scooters and the men going from pub to pub for their free christmas tot,something that I was to enjoy when I was old enough.Arms laden with presents,cheeks still red from aunties kisses,it was back on the bus and home to Mum.
What a feast there was that day,the meat just melting off the goose,the potatoes crisped and brown,sitting alongside the juiciest carrots and rich green cabbage,a creamy flavoured gravy covered the veg, and the whole lot went down without touching the sides.And then it was time for the pudding,covered in sweet white sauce, it was just perfect.We washed it down with lemonade shandy and then we cleared everything away and got stuck into our new presents,the radio in the background playing the sounds of Christmas. Boxing Day was when we had the pork,a big leg wonderfully glazed and roasted so that the crackling crunched in your mouth,as it should do.We went to the cinema after dinner and saw a Doris Day musical,I loved her then,with her blonde hair ,red lips and blue,blue eyes,as young as I was,I wanted to crush my lips upon hers.Yes,I was beginning to notice girls.It's funny,but I never thought of my sisters as being girls,they were just sisters,but the girls who lived on our block were "girls" and I fancied them like hell.I never ,ever told them.I fancied Dolly Hinton and Ralph Gerkins sister,but I knew I would never stand a chance,anyway there were games to play and lots of mates to play them with.Soon enough 1953 came bursting in and it was going to be an exciting time for our family not just with the coronation ,our whole world was going to change.

gerrards#1fan

10-06-2007, 11:45 AM

subperbbbbbb how u write like that u must me a lvl a++++ if you dont do that 7a

brian daley

10-06-2007, 12:13 PM

I read your posting Gerrards fan..........................I don't know what it means,I'm afraid that I am a dinosaur,can't text,can't post properly........
bear with me while I learn this new language,
love and peace,
BrianD

gerrards#1fan

10-06-2007, 12:17 PM

oh soz i wish u could undertand the new language sorry brain

John(Zappa)

10-06-2007, 08:39 PM

Brian Daley,,,,
fantastic stuff.Put it all together in time for xmas and you got a buyer.
Really good.You should do something about getting a few quid for your stories.
Nice work.:PDT_Piratz_26:

John(Zappa)

10-06-2007, 08:39 PM

subperbbbbbb how u write like that u must me a lvl a++++ if you dont do that 7a

are you drunk ? All day ?:PDT_Xtremez_42:

brian daley

10-07-2007, 02:13 AM

Where do our memories reside?,in the heart,or in the mind?.Both my head and my heart are full to bursting with the emotions that are evoked by those long ago happenings.!953 brought such richness into my world that the heat of those moments lives with me still.
At school I was a very poor pupil,I was innumerate(still am),incapable of any kind of sport and was given to daydreaming.I was so so at art,good at history and geography,loved english lit.,could start the most fantastic essays,but never had the staying power to finish them off.
Our woodwork master,Mr Campbell,was a lovely man with the patience of a saint;he had to have with me,I was forever destroying chisels and planes as he endeavoured to teach me the rudiments of carpentry.
Our form master in 53' was a complex character called Mr Butler,handsome,smartly dressed and with a degree in sarcasm,he caused me quite some grief during my time with him.
He had been in the RAF during the war and I was ready to hero worship him,
he looked the part,white teeth and slicked back hair,he could have stepped out of the pages of the Eagle.There was just one problem.............he didn't like me.
Let me tell you what I looked like then,some toothy kid,a bit like Alfalfa out of Our gang,my hair still fell in curtains right down over my nose.I never possessed a school uniform,but wore some cast offs from a second hand shop and my shoes were down at heel.......very down at heel,I had to put the cardboard from the Kellogs boxes to cover the holes in the in the soles.
Mr Butler noted all of these things,his way of helping me was quite unique.
One morning,when the bell had sounded and we had formed up in our class groups in the school yard just prior to entering assembly,he stood in front of the assembled pupils and called me out to the front."This Boy is an example of how not to dress!",he roared and ordered me to turn my back to the assembly,with the handle of his cane he hooked my instep and pulled up my foot so that the sole of my shoe could be seen by the multitude."And this is not how we at Gilmour wear our shoes!"the memory of that moment burns within me still.With a sneer,he dismissed me and turned away.
My classmates were shamsfaced when I rejoined them.
My maths book was a constant source of humour to his twisted mind,there was a song in the hit parade at that time called 7 Lonely Nights;after a maths test he paraded my maths book in front of all the boys,singing "7 lonely sums make one lousy test.................."
But the man could paint and draw with best of them,he taught me about perspective,how to mix colours and compose pictures ,so much so that I had one painting hung in the Walker Art Gallery in a schools exhibition and another was put in the bar of the R.N.R clubship that once stood in the Albert Dock.
Mum packed up work in the spring of that year so there was one less pay packet coming in.I stopped having school dinners and used to come home
and she would do welsh rarebit or poached egg on toast and then I had to run like hell back to school.I had a mate,David Royle,and we used to do the journey together,we were supposed to get the tram,but we pocketed the fare and bought sweets with it instead.
Just before I stopped school dinners,an incident occurred that lived with me for a long time.During our lunch, I could always be found in the queue for second helpings,of dinner or pudding;one day we had prunes and custard for pudding........................I had three large helpings of same.
It was during an english period with Mr Reed that the prunes began to make themselves felt.After my fourth hurried run from the classroom,Mr Reed summoned a prefect and gave him the tramfare to take me home.Not before lecturing me on the power of the black coated workers.
I used to enjoy those times at home with Mum,listening to Athlone on the radio,eating my lunch while she did the ironing,the smell of ironed starch still lingers in my nostrils yet.
Bette was at school and Jess was top of the form at Duncombe road,although they were my sisters,they were girls and girls stick together,confide in each other and consider boys a nuisance.I used to wish I had a brother that I could confide in.............................I started to notice that Mum was putting on weight.
Meanwhile ,both at school and in the Square ,plans were afoot for celebrating the coronation,the four houses in school started to get sports teams together for an in-school coronation sports day.A usual, I was selected to be part of the audience,well someone has to do the cheering.Flags and bunting were made ready,both in the tenements and at school.Easter went by at breakneck speed and every newspaper and magazine ran storys' of how Britain and the Commonwealth were going to celebrate the crowning of the new Queen.
One of the girls from our square was chosen to be our queen for our own coronation.Chrissie Hogg was the young lady,and the women of our square were determined the she would do us proud.
Slowly our square was being transformed with streamers ,bunting and flags,all in red white and blue and all coordinated so that there was a uniformity of design.
Our school was bedecked with artworks, done by both pupils and masters and all was made ready for the great day.Coronation Day was declared a holiday so we had to have our celebration at school before then.
Every schoolboy was treated to ice cream and a coronation mug.
Saint Marys Road was also decorated and Lloyds,the television shop,let some lucky people view the broadcast while sitting in deck chairs in the shop entrance corridor.
Mr and Mrs Hampton had bought a 14 inch television set and invited our family to watch the whole event with them,even though the picture was black and white and subject to interference,it was a great experience.The party in the square was an even greater experience,chairs and tables had been fetched from the flats and set into line in our playground.The tables were bedecked with red white and blue covers,laden with sausage rolls,pork pies,sandwiches cakes,trifles and custard and jelly.The months of planning
culminated in a banquet that would not be seen again in that Square.
We children were sat in our places awaiting the arrival of our own queen.And down she came,in a beautiful dress,a crown upon her head, trailing a red velvet cloak with imitation ermine trimming.In her hands she held the Orb and Sceptre and we kids cheered her to the echo. As we sat down to our feast ,kids from the other squares looked on enviously.The Mums in our square were the only ones who had put so much effort into making it the greatest day of all.
The party went on all night as the adults brought out a grammaphone and bottles of beer.What a day,2 queens crowned,Mount Everest conquered,seeing the whole thing on live television...........life couldn't get better than that,could it?....Mum didn't half seem fat now.................
BrianD

sweetcheeks

10-07-2007, 11:23 AM

Brian you are truely a gifted writer and I love reading about your life. I too have printed the stories out (hope you don't mind) for my mum, sadly we have just had to put my father into a care home and reading your memories has restored her spirit so I thank you for that. Please continue with them. Have you tried to get them published anywhere I can't believe that in our year of culture somebody wouldn't bite your hand off to get these wonderful stories out there.
Thank you again from my mum and me :handclap:

brian daley

10-08-2007, 11:47 PM

CHRISMIZ

10-10-2007, 12:17 AM

Looking forward to hearing more Brian. I'm hooked :handclap::handclap:

Waterways

10-10-2007, 01:24 AM

I went up to Liverpool again on Sunday,my 9 year old granddaughter had expressed a desire to go and see the wonderful places I had told her about.St.Georges Hall ,the Museums,the river and the seashore at Waterloo.
Whilst sitting on the seafront at Crosby,watching the ships and seagulls,she snuggled into me and said "We will come back again,won't we Granddad?"
Such moments in life are a gift.

In August 2006 I took my 4 year old girl to Liverpool - the Matthew St festival was on. She adores all the cousins she has in Liverpool. She started school a week later and in the first week came home with a cornflakes box with three little boxes stuck on it, painted with glitter all over. I asked her what it was and she said the buildings in Liverpool. It was the Three Graces at the Pier Head. I was amazed, and coming from a 4 year old - so observant and the buildings must have made an big impression. Nothing in London makes an impression on her.

She thinks Liverpool is a separate country as it is so different to where she lives and that she lives in England. When we leave she asks if we are going back to England. I always reply, yes.

Again last August I took her to Liverpool and she had a ball. West Kirkby beach, pony rides, the sand, glittering pebbles which she collected and train rides through tunnels. All so exciting for her.

lindylou

10-10-2007, 11:50 AM

ahh, that's nice to hear how much she enjoyed Liverpool. it's good that she is learning about our city too. :)

brian daley

10-12-2007, 12:17 AM

Although we had only been in Garston for just under a year ,we were well settled in.The coronation party had been a great ice breaker for getting to know the neighbours and we began to feel a part of the squares community.
At school,I had made friends with boys from other parts of Garston,Frankie Williams,a real laugh a minute person,always up for a joke,we didn't know about "speed" then but he he seemed to be on it.John Greavey,he was my closest mate at school,he came from "under the bridge".Jimmy Lothian,one of the boys from Banks Road School, a bit of a scally but a good pupil.
We all stayed dinners and would get up to Woolton Woods,or the Golf course
and do a bit mischief,never anything serious,scrumping apples,hunting for conkers or searching for "lost" golf balls. We were the least succesful criminals in the business.
That hour for lunch at school at school seemed interminable,we seemed to wander at will for ages before the whistle went.
The school itself was very nice,it had an enormous playing field,there were football pitches,rugby pitches,cricket pitches as well as athletics tracks.The field was so big that the local farmer used to graze his cattle on it during the holiday,a consequence of which, were the great big cow pats that we would stumble in during games.
They were sports mad at that school,you had to be on a team,there was no escape.I was put in one of the rugby teams.Mr Bagot was our coach,a real Gung Ho type,ex navy,square jawed and all round sportsman.He was going to make me a rugby player!He had no chance....................I was born with 2 left feet and poor spacial coordination.The poor man didn't stand a chance..
I'd flunked at every other sport and this proved to be no different.I was very good at minding the coats and things,the lads in our square had learned that too,whenever we went off to "fight" ,I was the one at the back carrying the macs and spare "weapons"I always had a comic in my back pocket for use on games days or "battles"
Consequently ,on our great summer sports day,at which there were dignitarys' present,I was the boy at the far end of the field, out of view from the prying eyes of the masters,catching up on the latest adventures of Dan Dare.I was never caught,or maybe they just gave me up as a hopeless case ,I've never changed,I'd rather go for a good walk than play golf,and watch a good movie than athletics.Odd I know,but I enjoy life.
The sports day always ended the spring term and then we broke up for six long weeks.........Bliss
With Mum at home, her cooking skills seemed to blossom ,her apple pies were special,a thick, sugar crusted, short crust pastry covered slices of apple, so juicy and sweet that they melted in your mouth.She covered it in a rich ,golden coloured custard that could have been eaten alone, it tasted so good, Whenever Ikey came to us from Mozart Street,Mum would always do an enormous load of sausage and mash,we both loved it and Mum was quite proud that Ikey ate such quantities.
About Ikey,he was the closest thing I had for a friend,he loved coming to the Tennies,and the girls there loved him.The girl I had always had an especial affection for,Pat Hampton,took one look at Ikey and dropped me like a hot potato.But we never let girls come between us.
Mum had stopped her slate at Bessie Holdens and started to shop locally,Billys' was the nearest grocers and we would get the bread, milk and other stuff there. Mum would go to the Co op for her main shop,49908 was her divi number.Billy opened a chippy next door to his shop and did a roaring trade,because it was the only one for miles! He had a unique way of cooking the pies though.............he would chuck them into the fryer for 5 minutes and serve them up drenched in fat............I loved them!!
As July came,Mum got tireder and slower,she was pregnant,not that she told me,or that I had guessed,it was Jess that gave me the news.And what news!!! I was going to have a brother! Nobody told me that-I just knew it.
I was excited,we were going to be mates,I would take him the Pier Head and show him the ships,I would take him on adventures to Speke,the Cast Iron Shore.And I would have someone to tell my secrets to...............I wonder what he'll be called.?My imagination worked overtime.
That summer is indeliby etched into my memory,August was a long sunny month,the hedgerows were a riot of colour with foxgloves,celandine ,daisies and dandelions.Bees hummed lazily in the torpid summer air,spiders spun their gossamer which glistened with the morning dew.On such days we would leave home with a bag of sandwiches,a bottle of milk and some water and ,clutching our penny for our "scholars returns" we would head off to anywhere in Liverpool.We'd get home in time for tea and a good scrub and then off to bed.
And then one morning Jess awoke us at the crack of dawn,or so it seemed,Mum was still in bed and Dad was still at home. Jess had made us some Polony sandwiches,some banana cake ,a bottle of milk and a bottle of water.She handed me the bag and told me to take our Bette and go out for the day,she wasn't coming with us.Bette and I called up to the Lloyds,on the next landing and Frank and his sister Vera came out with us.
We went down to Garston shore ,a weird place,the Bottle works used to dump all their broken glass on the beach ,and several factories had waste outlets that poured out their poisons as well.We never went swimming there,not that I could anyway.No, we used to walk to Oglet(What a name) from Garston,it was quite nice there, and then on to Hale Beach,which was very nice then.We spent hours among the sand hills and then made our way back through Speke,walking along the boulevard by the airport.We had munched our way through pounds of blackberries that we had picked ,our hands,faces and clothes were stained deep purple.We were within site of home when our Bette began screaming.I couldn't see what was amiss ,she hadn't fallen or cut herself on the brambles.It was when she pulled her dress up that I saw what was wrong,she had stood on an ants nest and had a small army of them at the top of her legs,heading straight for her knickers.We swatted them away and started off for our flat.We never had watches,and you can't really tell the time in the summer,so we were just hoping it was tea time.
When we got to our square,Doctor Gibsons car was parked by our stairway and people were on their landings,gossiping in little clusters.They looked at us ,all filthy, and then looked up toward our flat and my stomach turned over.We ran up the stairs and our Jess met us at the door,I could see a man in a surgical gown and mask in the doorway of Mums room,Jess hushed us and took us to get washed in the Kitchen sink.She told us that Mum was very poorly and we had to be quiet,the doctor had been there for hours,and, with the help of the midwife, had had to perform major surgery on Mum because she was in a very bad way.It seemed hours before the doctor left ,when he did ,the midwifetook Bette and me in to see Mum.........and our new baby. Mum looked so tired,the dark rings beneath her eyes testament of the agonies she had endured,seeing us,she motioned us to her and showed us the little bundle that lay by her side,a mass of black hair,three and a half pounds in weight..................my new sister!
I fell in love,lock stock and barrel.
She had a very tough start in life and our doctor devoted a great deal of time to Mum and baby.He was a dour Scotsman with a heart of gold,to him ,my sister would always be Brenda, Mum and Dad called her Christine,I always called her Chris...
Jess was a mother to Bette and me for nearly six weeks,Mum was realy ill.
Dad tried his hand at the catering one day,serving up something that was just about edible,which we forced down,but I drew the line at the way he made the tea.Milky.......I hated milky tea ,and do to this day."Drink that tea Lad!!" he growled. Normally one growl was enough for me to jump into line,but not for Milky tea."No" I replied all of a tremble,"I can't drink milky tea Dad". "Well you better start learning then ,hadn't you ?" he snarled .his face pushed close up to mine.
I don't how I did it ,but I picked up the tea cup and poured it over his head!He sat there non-plussed,the cup on his head and a look of total bewilderment on his face......I was up and out of my chair and speeding to my bedroom.I slammed the door shut and slid the bolt across,shaking with fear at the enormity of what I had done.Within seconds ,he was beating on the door,murderous threats pouring from his lips.I was dead,memories of the coffee episode came sharply to mind ,I was a trembling wreck,but I was'nt going to open that door.I heard my Mum calling,"Billy what are you doing?" he roared a reply but she was calling "Billy,Billy,come here"
He stopped banging the door and I heard muffled words through the wall.
All went quiet and then ,a little while later he came back and gently tapped on the door,"Brian,let me come in and talk to you,I promise I won't hurt you" "You will,I know you will"."Brian son I want to take you for a walk,just you and me...honest" Frightened to death,I opened the door and he took me in his arms and hugged me.Down all these years I can still feel the scalding tears that fell down my cheeks.......I felt safe in his arms.
After that,our Jess took over the role again,she was thirteen and did everything for us ,I washed the dishes,in a fashion and did some brasswork too ,but our kid worked so hard that Doctor Gibson expressed his concern to Mum that if she didn't have a break she could end up very ill.
As soon as Mum was able she sent Jess off to Llandudno to spend a fortnight with Aunty Dolly.
Meanwhile we were getting to know our Chris.

brian daley

10-13-2007, 06:43 PM

When Jess got back from Llandudno,she had some smashing photographs of Willy,Elizabeth and Eleanor,and looked so much better for her holiday.
Mum was on the mend ,but Chris was still in need of constant care,being visited by the midwife everyday.The midwife was lovely,black haired with dark brown eyes,her starched collar and pinafore,her lovely face and her black hosed legs,I was madly in love with her,but I was only 11.Doctor Gibson was a regular visitor too so we were all aware that Chris was in a bad way.But she was a happy baby and I considered it a privilege when I was allowed to hold her.Dad made us treat her like she was made of glass,when he came home from work he would examine her for bruises in case we had been less than gentle with her.With the love and care of Mum and the family,the ministrations of the Doctor and Midwife,and plenty of Abidec,Chris began to thrive.
Our relatives began to visit us more often now that we had a new addition,
and Mum started to get some new furniture.She was at home for a long time,looking after Chris,but as soon as she was toddling,Mum started looking for another job.And I set about earning some coppers too.
We used to have scrap iron men come around in an old Bedford 5 ton,ex army breakdown truck.It had a little crane on the back and they would buy any scrap metal,copper or brass.They had a set of scales in which they would weigh your load and pay you what they thought it was worth.
We used to scavenge anything that wasn't tied down,rooting through bins and rubbish heaps,we made just enough to get in the cinema.One week Georgie Hogg,Kenny Ford and me struck gold.The scrap men paid by weight......we had "found " a buffer off a railway wagon,it was laying in the long grass by the railway embankment and it took the 3 of us to move it.We left it where it was until the scrapmen appeared.When they came we told them to hang on while we fetched our special cargo,we got our sisters skipping rope and tied it around the buffer and dragged it up to the wagon.
We could'nt lift it and we thought we would get a fortune for it.
The mens eyes lit up when they saw it and they came and helped to drag it for the last few yards."We'll have to lift this up with the crane" said the driver as he disappeared into the cab and started the engine.His mate threw a chain around the buffer and lifted it clear of the road,and as soon as it was , he jumped aboard, and the wagon sped away with our fortune.You never saw such discontented kids,all of our dreams of big money disappeared with that wagon .They never came back.
We tried to get jobs potato picking,but we could never get up in time to catch the bus.A mate of mine from the next square,Joey Fergo,had a paper round in Grassendale and let me help him with it for 2 shillings a week (I know,I was a sucker),the houses we delivered to were very posh,The Serpentine comes to mind,all beautiful Edwardian buildings with neatly trimmed lawns and colourful gardens.
The shop Joe worked for was called Gents,run by Mr, and Mrs Gent,who had a special son called Charley.He would be about 20 when we knew him,but he was of a younger mental age than Joe or me.
In the attic of the shop,Charley had constructed the most elaborate model railway that I had ever seen.It was built on a base that was about four foot high,and covered the entire attic.He had stations and villages,bridges and canals,it was a miniature world and had taken him years to complete.I saw it only a few times but was very grateful for being given that pleasure.
Sometimes Joe would let me do the round on my own,I got an extra shilling when that occurred,and on one such occassion I was walking up the driveway to a house in The Serpentine,when the front door opened and this tall,distinguished gentleman,came out toward me and said "have you got my Radio Times there boy?",I had it in my hand and gave it to him.
He riffled through it until he spotted something,and then he held it toward me and said "That's me there boy"showing me a picture if himself............
"Commodore Ivan Thompson,the Captain of the Queen Mary,talks about life at sea". I was thrilled as I gazed in awe at the page,"Thursday night ,home service at 9 0'clock,don't miss it boy" he said as he slipped sixpence in my hand.
I used to keep a look out for him after that,but never saw him until many years later in very different circumstances.
Besides spending my money on the pictures and sweets,I used to buy a lot of comics,the Eagle was my favourite,never had to buy the Knockout ,Dandy,Beano,Film fun and Radio Fun because Grandma Hengler always had them in for us at Eton Street,where I still went every Sunday,well I had to keep up with the serials in the comics.So,the comics I used to buy were the Yankee ones,loved the westerns,with Lash LaRue and Tom Mix,Superman,Batman,Don Winslow and Archie.They were fabulous
productions,multicolored and well drawn.We kids used to swap comics,they were precious commodities, I had a mate in the next square I used to trade with, Frank McNemeny,(Try saying it) we were the sharpest traders in the district,we dealt in everything readable,movie mags,War Illustrated,Classics Illustrated and the Funnies out of the American Sunday newspapers.
Looking back, we had what would now be priceless pass through our hands.
Television was becoming more popular,Joeys' Dad bought one and I used to watch some of the early evening programmes with them,Television Newsreel,The Grove Family,The Appleyards to name but a few.It was tame stuff compared to the radio where we had Journey into Space,Riders Of the Range,Dick Barton,and a whole host of comedy shows.Radio was in your head,your imagination creating scenes that no film crew could ever produce,television was very limited in content.But that did'nt stop us wanting one.
At school a new divide opened up,those with T.V. and those without;it almost followed the divide of Garston from Allerton and Hunts Cross.
We had to wait awhile in our house before the cathode ray tube made its appearance.
And at school we had started to sort out our pecking order,a gang of sorts
was formed out of the harder elements,and victims fell prey to their bullying.Mercifully I learned that a fast tongue and a good joke was all it took to keep the bullies off your back,all except for one that is.We called him Fat Bob,because he was fat and his name was Bob.He was a minion of the class top dog ,Arfur,who was always O.K. with me because I was mates with his younger brother.But Fat Bob was always looking to punch ,kick ,chinese burn or otherwise disrupt the peaceful day of someone smaller than himself.I suffered the occassional bit of grief from him,you put up with it because he would always theaten you with something worse if you made a fuss.One day,we were playing some kind of chase game in the playground when I found myself alone behind the bike sheds with Bob.He thought he would treat himself to dishing out a bit of gratuitous GBH,on me!
I freaked when he started toward me and slammed my fist into his stomach as hard as I could............................................. ....and he burst out crying.I waded in with everything I had,which, on reflection was'nt very much ,but it was enough to keep that bully off my back forever.
Gradually his victims were reduced in number to the very few who would never fight back,I felt sorry for them,but you had to watch out for number one at a boys school.
And thus another year passed and 1954 brought some more small surprises

John(Zappa)

10-15-2007, 10:09 AM

You gotta get a book sorted for christmas.It will sell no problem.
Loads of people enjoy your stories here......Get em' out into the big wide world.
Honestly,you really need to do a paperback book/magazine of some sorts.
Am sure many on here would pay a few pennies for more of your tales.
:PDT_Piratz_26:

lindylou

10-15-2007, 08:13 PM

I'd buy that book :)

John(Zappa)

10-15-2007, 08:20 PM

Well shall we sign a petition to get this guys works printed up?
I will!!!
Infact...sign below the dotted line........................................:handc lap:

brian daley

10-16-2007, 10:55 PM

I really wanted a pair of "longies" for Christmas '53,but it was not to be,there was some unwritten law,"Thou shalt wear short trousers until your plums drop" or something like that.Iwas going to be 12 in May and I wanted to look "older".One of the kids in the square,Georgie Hogg,was so way ahead of all of us 12 year olds because his Mum ,who'd been to America,came back with a full yankee outfit for him, Wrangler jeans,baseball boots,tartan shirt and a hand tooled leather belt.We were green with envy.You only saw kids dressed like that in the movies.We had to make do with our grey flannel pants and buttoned up jerseys.
Chris was getting stronger and I used to love cradling her in my arms to help get her to sleep.Jess was becoming a proper teenager.getting bumps in the right places and Bette was becoming a bit of a tomboy,nerves of steel ,she was up to everything,Dad was still a bit of a martinet with his brass inspections,no pocket money until the job was done properly,and Mum was being a homebody. We now had lino on the floor in the living room and a nice big rug,life was getting better by the week.
Winter eased into spring and summer was getting near and before you knew it,it was my birthday and........................I was given a pair of "longies"!! I can still feel them now,slipping them on in the bedroom,getting the braces just so that the turnups rested on the top of my shoes.The touch of the flannel on the back of my legs,the crease ,sharp and true,I was officially grown up.It felt great going to school,in a blazer and long grey trousers.And there was an even bigger surprise to come,they had also bought me a grown ups suit.It was a brown double breasted one ,I looked the business,Mum had good taste,she had got me a new shirt and a tie to match.Walking to Walton that Sunday ,with Dad in his Sunday best and me in my new suit,was a feeling that would stay with me forever.But the trouble with boys is that they grow,and how.It was'nt long before Mum had to let down the turn ups,she had a job to keep up with me.But we all of us kids were in the same boat.
I started looking round to see if I could get a good part time job,like a delivery boy,or a paper round ,they were like gold dust .As soon as a job became vacant,there would be ten boys queueing up to get it .I started getting a bit of work on Garston Market,helping the stall holders pack up and carrying thier baggage to the station.It was only a couple of times a week ,I used to do a weekday and a saturday,but I would make about 5 shillings a week.It was a shilling to get in the Empire cinema and 6d for an Orange Maid iced lolly,so it was'nt too bad.One of the stallholders,a Mr Phineas Cohen,had a haberdashery stall and let me work for him all day saturday for the princely sum of half a crown;I was still fetching and carrying for the other stallholders at the end of the day and so pulled in nearly 7 shillings for a days work.Magic.I was becoming financially indepedent,not quite a magnate,but better off than I'd ever been.It was decided to let me go to school camp,something that had been beyond my wildest dreams.To spend a week in Port Erin in the Isle of Man................here was the catch ,I had to pay for it myself,I was earning see.
I gave my Mum the lions share of my weekly earnings,leaving me with my picture money and a bit left over.Out of the money I gave Mum,she would give me some back on a Monday to make weekly payments to the camp holiday fund.One black Monday, she told me she could'nt afford to let me have anything as she was "broke".I was outraged,I'd given her 5 bob on Saturday,where had it gone?I'm sad to relate that I lost my temper and said words that a son should never say to his mother.
I slammed out of the house and made my way ,not to school,but to the Pier Head,I was running away.Mum had a job at Dunlops,and would'nt have known that her errant son was off to make his way inthe world.I knew where I was headed,LLandudno,not to Aunty Dollys',but to a cave that Will y had shown me all those years ago.I was going to stay there until I was a man ,and then come back and show them what I had become.Armed with my dinner money,I walked to the Pier Head and got the ferry to Birkenhead .I walked down the New Chester Road through Bromborough,where I bought a bag of broken biscuits for stores."I'd show 'em,they won't half feel sorry when they realise I'm gone."
I was walking through a little village called Neston ,when a Bobby on a bike came riding by.He passed me slowly,taking a long look at me ,and the turned full circle to come alongside me."What are you doing out of school son?" he asked,"I'm on holiday sir" I replied."There are no schools on Holiday around here,where have you come from?".I hesitated before replying and before I could say anything he said"You running away from home son?".I was dumbstruck,lost for words,I shook my head."Have a row with your Mum this morning?" he asked kindly."Don't you think you Mum wil be upset when she gets home and finds your not there.Filling up ,I nodded,trying to hide the tears."Come on with me,You look like you could do with a nice cup of tea and a cake".He got off his bike and pushed it along with his free hand resting on my shoulder.
As we walked to the station he told me of the time he had fallen out with his Mum when he was my age.By the time we got to the station he had put my world to rights and told me to say SORRY to Mum.
The Police station was small and welcoming,the desk sergeant telephoned Dulops and gave Mum the news and told her to come and collect me.It was hours before she turned up but the segeant magicked up some comics to keep me entertained until Mum arrived.
I was nervous when I heard her enter the station,the Bobby who had found me was talking to her and he was soon making her laugh.When she turned and saw me she gave me a rueful grin and said "Come here soft lad,you've caused me a lot of trouble" Waving goodbye to the sergeant she turned to me and said "Don't you tell anyone about this,'cos if your Dad finds out you can kiss your holiday goodbye".She bought me the Junior Express to read on the journey home and I knew that things were going to be alright.And I still had a bagful of broken biscuits!!

lindylou

10-17-2007, 03:13 PM

Hello. Welcome :)

brian daley

10-18-2007, 11:14 PM

Changes were taking place in our little abode,added to the new 3 piece suite, lino and rug,was a new fireplace.Out went the iron masterpiece,and in came a "modern" fireplace,a little tiled affair that was easy on the eye,took up a lot less space and was easy to clean.The men who fitted it threw the old one over the landing,a drop of about forty feet,and it smashed to pieces when it landed.All we lacked now was a T.V. set.
Mum never told Dad of my "running away" episode and so my holiday was still on.As the time drew near they set about kitting me out for my week under canvas.Dad offered his advice as to what was the best equipment for me to take ,he'd been in the Army and knew about these things.So it was down to the Army and Navy Stores, by Lewis's for the kitting out.I kitbag,ex-army,1 set of eating utensils,ex-army,1 sleeping bag,large,ex-army.I was a bit embarassed because I was the only one in my tent who was done up like a private in the Pioneer Corps.
Soon the day arrived for our journey to the Isle of Man,Dad took me down to the landing stage and there were thousands of people milling about.We were going on the Ben My Chree,but the were other boats alongside as well,the King Orry and another one whse name has slipped my memory.The St Tudno was tied up a little way down from the Manx boats and the whole river was abuzz with ferry boats and tugs.The sky was slate grey with a fairly strong breeze ,but we were too excited to be put off by smal things such as the weather........we were going to sea!
Our teachers gathered us all together in the main hall and ticked us off on their lists,Dad waved goodbye from the doorway and then we were marched on down to the gangway,jostling and joking,the air electric with happy anticipations.There were other schools making the journey as well as families setting off for their annual holiday,teachers anxious for their charges,Mums and Dads,laden with kids and luggage,and sailors in blue jerseys making ready for our departure.The ship seemed like some fantastic beast ,you could feel it tremble,smell the fuel oil,hear the hum of its great generators And then there was a clanging of the telegraph and an almighty blast from the ships whistle,and the whole ship reverberated as the engines thrust into life.
Children rushed to the side to watch as we pulled away from the pier,this was it we were really on our way.I saw Dad,amongst a hundred other parents waving from the shore,it was a strange feeling ,leaving him there.
To sail down the Mersey was an unforgettable experience,looking back at the three Graces,those unmistakeable landmarks,sailing past the docks ,full of ships from the world over, the river itself was a mirror of the sky ,grey and uninviting.Seagulls wheeled and shrieked above us and the Red Ensign was cracking in the wind.Past Burbo Bank now and a gentle swell starts to make us move in a way that was new to us.I felt so alive,this was what I wanted to do forever.
As we began to gather speed,the movement became more pronounced and little faces started to turn green,soon we were rolling and dipping and big faces turned green too.The toilets were full of people heaving and retching but our small group seemed immune.For a small while we lost sight of land and that seemed to make some people worse,but the time flew by and Douglas appeared on the horizon in sharp silhouette.As we got nearer the excitement was palpable,this was our first trip abroad!
The decks filled with people who had been down below for the journey and the rails were crowded as everyone strained to take the scene in.
We were disembarked and on our way to the station in double quick time,no customs here,everything looked the same as Llandudno but was different too.
The trains were the first big difference,beautiful old steam engines,painted in green and gold with massive chimneys,brass rimmed,and a big bell housing in gleaming brass too ,the coaches were small but cosy,and very Victorian,it was as though time had stood still.There was a slamming of doors and a belching of steam ,Chugga chugga,and then we were off to Port Erin.We went through some of the most picturesque places,Rushen stands out in my mind ,being ablaze with floral colour.It was raining and were off to a holiday under canvas,very few of knew what it would be like,those that did kept quiet.Nothing was going to spoil our enjoyment.
The camp was in a field alongside a kipper curing house,the farmer that owned the field,let the organisers have it at a special rate because of what we would leave behind.
Every year our school,and other schools too,had a fortnight booked so that the field was occupied for the whole summer.There were no toilet facilities,instead a large rectangular pit was dug,about 6 foot deep,3 foot wide and about 10 foot long.two large tree stumps were sunk into the ground at either end of the lenghth of it and a thin plank was nailed to them.This was our loo,and the contents were part payment to the farmer.!
If you were caught misbehaving,you were put on the bog squad whose job it was to keep the place clean,and keep the load level.Our group were forever on the bog squad.
Port Erin was an unspoiled little resort,pretty as a picture,with a perfect bay and Bradda Head standing sentinel.Our group were out first thing ,after a breakfast of porridge,thick and sweet,followed by a very tasty kipper,washed down with a cup of tea ,after which you swilled your eating eqipment in a bucket,made sure your tent was tidy and then the day was yours.No supervision,no guided tours or lectures,this was freedom with a capital F.
Mum and Dad had given me a pound spending money and I had saved twice that myself,so I was loaded.There were 2 other lads from the Tennies with me Joey Fergo and Jimmy Lothian,there was Eric Cran from under the bridge and a couple of other classmates so we were well set for a good time.And that is exactly what was had ,when it rained ,we went to the pictures,and when it was dry we went out for long walks or boat rides.
If it was too wet too go out we would sit in the tent and play games,one time,we must have exhausted all the games we knew ,for we found ourselves playing the most stupid game ever.Only a bored schoolboy could have thought it up.The rules were thus, one boy wielded a tent peg mallet as he knelt down,whilst another boy sat on the floor with his legs stretched out,The sitting boy had to scissor his legs open and closed while the other boy had to hit the ground between his legs with the mallet........Eric had to have his ankles strapped up for what remained of the holiday,he was hobbling for a week or two after we got back to Garston.Another prank they played was rubbing the tent canvas above some unsuspecting boys sleeping bag with a damp cloth.This allowed the rain to pour right through,Jimmy Lothian got soaked.And then someone had the bright idea of performing an ancient initiation ceremony.......on me!They whipped my kecks off and covered my meat and two veg with black polish,it was pouring down outside and I could'nt get out for a wash and so went to bed in my Pyjamas which got covered in it.
Our week came to an end all too soon,we had been fed like farm horses and had had kippers with every meal;when we packed for our return, we took boxes of them for our families .My kitbag needed a good airing afterwards.
Dad was there to meet me when we got back and I near made his ears bleed on the bus journey, there was so much to tell.
It was great going home, seeing my sisters as though I had been away for a year,Jess wanted to know all about it,and Mum wanted to know how I had managed to get my pyjamas in such a state.
I had a fund of memories from that time in Port Erin,and I never had another holiday until I returned to the Isle of Man 12 years later.
1954 still had some tricks up its' sleeves however.

brian daley

10-19-2007, 10:36 PM

While the summer holiday was still on, there was a day when I was left to take Chris out,I think our Jess had to go the wash house now that Mum was back at work.I had planned to go off with the lads as usual,but I couldn't wriggle out of it.So there I was,Chris, me, and her pushchair.I was standing in the square wondering where to go ,when Kenny Ford came by ,holding his little brother ,Danny,by the hand.I asked him if he wanted to walk to Oglet to see if there was anything about,you sometimes got things washed ashore,
one time we found a whole box of Brazil nuts.So off we went,it was a very grey day ,but it was dry.There were puddles eveywhere from yesterdays downpour but we were not bothered,the sand should be dry,it always was.
We walked down Window Lane,past the Bobbin works,down by the Bottle works and then on to the path above the shore that would take us through to Oglet.This path was atop a sandstone wall that looked like an old sea wall.It was about seven foot high and the path was about three foot wide and there was a chicken wire fence that ran along the back of the Bottle works.There was just enough room for a pushchair,there were puddles on the path and they seemed to be getting deeper.we could not go along the shore because it was filled with broken glass from the bottle works and there were a lot of large rocks up against the wall too.
We were about half way along the footpath when we came to a puddle too deep for the push chair.Kenny picked up Danny and walked along the top of the sandstone wall.I could not carry the chair with Chris in it because the wall was too narrow and the weight would be too heavy to attempt such a precarious walk.I took Chris out of her chair and told her to hold on to the fence while I carried the chair across the puddle.She nodded,smilingly,all of one year of age.I watched as she held on to the fence and then began my passage along the wall ,just as I had reached the other side I saw a look of horror come across Kennys' face.I turned and saw Chris standing on the edge of the wall.Dropping the pushchair on the dry path I ran back to the puddle to grab her..................................I was too late.I still recoil in fear as I recall her little black coated body,falling down to the rocks and glass below.Over and over she went,bouncing from rock to rock,landing with a sickening crunch in the mound of broken bottles.Heart thumping with fright for her,I jumped down and raced to her.She was lying face down,making a kitten like mewing sound.I turned her over and she looked up at me ,her little face showing shock and surprise................but no cuts or other injuries.I almost wept with relief,I'd nearly killed my beloved sister because I was foolish and unthinking.
We carried on our trip,and had an enjoyable time,but the experience marked me for life.
It was shortly after that that an old lady in the White Cottages died,she had lived by herself, but was not reclusive,she was always on her balcony watching the goings on below.
Her daughter came and made all the funeral arrangements,having her mother laid out in her coffin in the small front bedroom for people to come and pay their last respects.We watched as the trickle of adults passed through the doors and someone ,I can't remember who,thought it might be a good idea if we paid our last respects too.I had never seen a dead person and so went out of curiosity.We were allowed in and were a bit awe struck at the site of this old lady laying there like a waxwork.Word spread like wildfire,kids started coming from the other blocks to see the dead lady.Pretty soon word got out past the tenements and kids were coming up from all over Garston.By nighttime there was a queue right around the square,little kids,big kids, kids with sticks ,kids with macks tied around their necks like cloaks.Every manner of boy and girl was in that queue,and some of us paid our respects twice.
When I went the second time,the white silk coverlet that lay near face was blackened by the multitude of grubby fingers that had grasped it.
It was our mothers that brought the proceedings to a halt,shooing the strange kids away and taking us home out of it.
After the funeral life returned to its' normal pace.

We were playing in the square, just after our evening meal when I felt a tap on my shoulder,I turned and saw my Dads youngest sister Joan.This was midweek and late evening,what was she doing here?
"Granddad Mahers dead"she said abruptly,"Wheres your Dad?" I was shocked,my great granddad was dead,like that old lady.I couldn't believe that he was no more,that tough old bruiser who had sailed the seven seas and called me Brian Boru ,his stumpy hands would no longer squeeze a tune out of his concertina.I didn't even know he was ill.
I never went to the funeral and in a short while he had passed into history.
As winter neared Dad became very ill and it was my turn to go to my Nins with a message from my Mum,he was very,very ill.
Doctor Gibson was again the ministering angel,because Dad was too ill to be moved the good doctor treated him at home.
I remember the note Mum gave me to take to Nins,it said that he had developed pneumonia and was hallucinating.I didn't really understand the last word,all I knew was that he would cry out loud that strange things were happening.
It was while he was ill that I had my next brush with death;I was on the 86 bus going to town to get a few messages for Mum.It was a a very rainy day and I was sitting in my favourite seat,top floor ,front, on the drivers side.We had just entered the bottom of Smithdown Road, and were coming toward the stop by the Home and Colonial,when a lady wearing a green gabardine mac with the hood pulled down over her face,stepped into the road.
Right into the path of the bus.I watched it all with horror,the bus swerved in an attempt to miss her .People screamed ,there was a sickening thud,and we screeched to a halt.The conductor came upstairs and asked us to stay in our seats.The adults talked hurriedly amongst themselves,no one had seen what had happened,crowds gathered round the bus,but we were above the tumult and could only hear what was happeing beneath us.
Soon the police arrived and began asking if anybody had seen what had occurred,heads were shaken and the policemen were turning to go downstairs when I found myself saying "I saw it ,I saw what happened ".A big segeant came and took my address and left me to carry on .
I didn't think to tell Mum about it when I got home ,she had enough on her plate with Dad.About seven o'clock that evening the front door was rattled so loudly that it woke Dad out of his slumbers,Mum hurried to the door to find two poicemen standing there."Mrs Daley,is your son Brian in?" one of them asked.Dad was calling out "Who's at the door Jessie?"" No one Billy,just some men for Brian" ,"What bloody men?" he cried. "We,re from the police,Mr Daley" one of them said,not knowing of Dads' condition.What father said then could not be published in this missive ,suffice to say that the policemen
took heed of mothers gestures and shut up.They assured her that I wasn't in trouble and just wanted a statement from me as witness to a fatal accident .I sat with them and related what I had seen,all the while with Dad raging from the bedroom.
A few weeks later I received a letter from the police thanking me for my statement and life was starting to return to normal,well almost normal......Maggie Brown had moved into the Tennies.!!!

brian daley

10-19-2007, 11:55 PM

Lindylou,Zappa and all you other kind folk,
thanks for showing an interest in my writing,it is something that I feel driven to do.Not for the want of fame or fortune,there is no chance of that.But to record the events of my life so that I might understand what it has been about,to bury old ghosts' ,and to rejoice in the memories of those loved ones who are no longer here.
I was given a wake up call this February when my number very nearly came up.I realised that I could have gone without my grandchildren ever really knowing from whence they sprang.I would never be brave enough to sit and write a book,but sitting here ,talking to you via my keyboard,helps me nail those memorys' to the page.Thank you once again for your kind support.
With Love and Peace
BrianD

shytalk

10-20-2007, 12:38 AM

Keep it going Brian.:handclap:

brian daley

10-21-2007, 07:57 PM

Horrocks Avenue was shaping up into a nice little estate,there were a mixture of houses,3 bedroom family houses and pensioners cottages.There was a school being built,Blessed John Almonds,a Roman Catholic secondary modern.
This new estate began to have an effect on our square because some of the older families,whose children had grown up and left home,were rehoused on that estate.New families moved into the vacated flats and ,slowly,but surely ,our little world began to change.
We had a new family move both below and above us,the ones' above were boisterous and not too neighbourly,and the family in the flat below us were a really tragic little group.The mother was heavily pregnant when they moved in and when she went into labour ,she suffered a massive stroke that left her paralysed down one side of her body.
Her husband left her shortly after,leaving her to bring 2 small children entirely on her own.She was hardly ever seen outside her door and no sounds were ever heard from her house except for the crying of her children.
Even now I can see that sad little woman,one side of her face hanging limp like a clowns sad smile,holding her baby in her good arm ,dragging her crippled body as she shuffled her way to the door.She ,obviously,could not join in the cleaning rota for the stairways,the woman above us wouldn't join in,she said "It is'nt my job!".And so the stairs started to get grubby.It was something that was happening to the whole block,pride was going and so was the community spirit.In the autumn of that year, a coach was being organised for a trip to Blackpool Illuminations.Normally it would have meant having to book a big coach because so many people would want to go.Not this year folks,with so many of the old community gone,very few new ones wanted to join in.We got just enough people for a smaller coach,there were about 30 of us.It was a few weeks away yet and we had to start saving the coppers,it was just Mums and Kids ,the Dads would be down at the Gay Cavalier.
Maggie had been in the Tennies a while now,she was the reason Mum was able to work at Dunlops,she had our Chris during schooltime,she only lived around the corner, so Jess,or me , would take her there and bring her back.
Our relationships with her daughters had changed,they were quieter,the house was smaller,and Eddie hadn't come with them.Maggie was still a madcap though,when she came around to see Mum,she would have her in fits of laughter with her tales;Dad never liked her coming round,it reminded him of the Time they had been split up.
Joey Fergo,who I had always thought of as being a mate,started to change,he was a year older than me,his features started to harden ,as did his attitude,he used to set boys against each other,had a knack for starting fights so that he could watch us knock lumps off each other.
Now this kid upstairs,he wasn't coming on the coach to Blackpool,nor was Joe,so they started to take the mickey out of those who were going.
I put up with Joes insults,I couldn't beat him ina fight,but the kid upstairs? I was'nt going to take any s==t from him. I told to stop the mickey taking or I give him something to think about.
Word got back to Joe,and subsequent events showed me what a real piece of work he had become.He knew that I picked up our Chris from Maggies on the way home from school,and it was while I was doing just that one evening that Joe and his cronys' met me at the bottom of the stairs by Maggies.I was holding our Chris and they egged the kid from upstairs to have a go at me.
I told them to wait until I had taken Chris home,but Joe wanted blood,now! We were by the pavement edge when he jumped me,I'm trying to stop my baby sister from going into the road and this swine is not giving any quarter.I took a beating but got Chris safely home.I felt terrible,the boy I had thought of as a friend had just engineered a crushing humiliation on me.
I waited until I got the kid upstairs alone,it was only a day later,and I gave him back in aces what he had given me that awful day.I realised that he was a coward and treated him as such ever after.Joe faded out of our existence,he didn't live in our square anyway.That coach trip?It was brilliant,there was John Tillett,Frank Lloyd and me,we had as good a time as you could with a pound,we even made a record,Frankie Laines "Water".Cost a shilling in the little booth by the pier,I didn't have a record player so I never heard what it sounded like.I never went to Blackpool again until 1973. Not that I didn't want to ,but thats another story.

scousette1st

10-21-2007, 09:38 PM

Hi Brian, just started to read your stories they are brill :handclap: and i agree with the others you should try get them published as mant poeple out there who dont have a pc would love to hear them.
oh by the way wierd coincidence my hubbies name is Brian Daly lol
Look forwrd to more from you
Scousette X

brian daley

10-23-2007, 11:18 PM

I was starting to enjoy school now that we had a new form master.His name was Mr Reed,a man of infinite wisdom with a unique sense of humour.
Picture a man who looked like Eric Morecombe,with the build of Ronnie Barker,and it will help you to visualise Mr Reed.He could control his class of adolescents with hardly any recourse to the cane ,or other punishments.
We knew he wasn't a pushover,he was firm and fair ,but also very funny.
He was a dapper person,wore three piece suits,with a matching tie and handkerchief ,and his shoes gleamed .Using chalk had given him a form of eczema and so he always wore white gloves,which seemed to add to his authority.He took us for maths ,english and history.Literature was then a part of the english lesson and Pop Reed made those periods so enjoyable that they became a thing to be looked forward to.He would read to us.I know it sounds simple,but he would take books like David Copperfield or Ill Met by Moonlight ,and make those pages come alive for us.It was through him that I came to know Mr Micawber,John Ridd,Masterman Ready and hundreds of other characters that live within the pages of those old classics.
I can recall those golden afternoons,chin on hands,resting on my desk ,watching the dust motes glistening in the shafts of sunlight,my mind on some distant coral strand ,as old Pop took us on another verbal adventure.
Sometimes,in those moments when you are changing from one lesson to another,he would sit with his newspaper and read out items that were never on the page.Holding the paper up to his nose you would hear him mutter things like,"Hmm..car drops dead in high street...",or "House falls through window,police informed." I was unaware of Beachcomber at that time,but when I discovered him years later,I was much minded of old Pop Reed.

We used to have an examination at thirteen in those days,it gave you a second chance to gain a scholarship to a grammar school.Well,I never took the 11 plus and now I missed the 13 plus,not that I would have passed it mind.
I missed because I was beset by a plague of boils.And an abcess.They seemed to appear overnight on my right arm ,just below the elbow.There was this huge abcess ,upon which were eight boils.A red,glowing mountain with nine yellow pustules.You could have heated a room with that arm.The good Doctor Gibson arranged for me to be taken to Myrtle Street hospital to have them seen to.Dad had to take me because they were going to give me an anasthaetic.This was duly done and I was off school for the week with my arm in a sling.I had to go back at the end of the week to get the dressing changed.There was standing room only in the outpatients that morning, next to me was a little lady who had two small boys with her.My arm was in a sling and she asked what had happened to me,I told her about my boils and near sent her to sleep.The sister came around and told us that we would have to assist the nurses by removing our own dressings because they were so busy.I quickly stripped off my bandage and saw that there was a piece of something sticking out of a hole where the abcess had been.It was multi coloured,green ,red ,yellow and yuck...I was staring at it,fascinated as to what it could be,when the sister came by again"Just pull it out boy" she said.
I did ,all 18 inches of it,covered in gore.There was a sigh and a bump beside me,the little lady passed out cold at the sight of it.I was going to ask the nurse if I could take it home to show my mates,you know how pre-teenage boys are.

One mans rubbish can be another mans treasure,and I found this to be a truth when the council opened a tip at the back of the Tennies.You could'nt imagine it being allowed today,but they had a rubbish tip within hundreds of yards of our homes.The adults were outraged,we kids were not.Although our families only dumped rubbish ,there were those who dumped anything that was superflous to their needs.And we kids were there to harvest such things.This was in the days before the HSE and political correctness,the tip men never chased us off,we would stand there as the bin wagons disgorged their loads and then dive in, rummaging like mad before the next wagon was ready to tip.I found a miners helmet which I kept for years,lots of old toys and books,some times you would get gems,like when I found some very early American movie magazines.Soon ,there were loads of kids sifting through the rubbish and it began to attract the attention of the police.
They would let you pass unheeded if they thought you didn't have anything of value,just warn you that you shouldn't be doing that etc.etc.
One night I struck gold,there was a huge leather bound book laying atop a heap of freshly dumped rubbish.I hurriedly picked it up thinking it was an old family bible.It was huge,about 12 inches long ,8 inches wide and 6 inches thick.The leather cover had a golden coat of arms on the front,and on the spine,in gilt,was written"A History Of Clan Tartans".The pages were vellum and it was hand written ,in the most beautiful copperplate,rather like the old white five pound notes.On pages that were made of a thicker paper,were attached pieces of tartan cloth which were covered in a kind of tissue paper.
It was the most wonderful book I had ever held in my hands.Not wishing it to come to further harm,I made my way home to show it to my parents.The two policemen were on duty as usual and ,as I passed,one them reached out and snatched the book. "We could 'ave you for this lad" he said,putting it under his arm,he turned to go"Now get off home before I do yer". I felt gutted.
The tip soon lost its' magic after that,there were lots of other distractions for a boy then though .
Some of our mates joined the cadets,I can't recall anyone from the square joining the scouts or the boys brigade,that seemed to be a bit of a middle class thing.We were a mixed bunch really,catholics and protestants,without any of the tribal aggro that you got in Walton or Everton;remember ,I came from a mixed background where religion counted,but it wasn't like that in Garston.There was the Orange Lodge,and on the 12th of July some of the catholics would go on the coaches with their protestant friends for the knees up in Southport.I never saw any violence in the village when the bands were marching,we'd all be on the pavement enjoying the colourful parade.
And Garston loved its' parades.The annual carnival was always a sight to behold,the different churches,streets,clubs and assorted groupings would create the most wonderful floats,bedecked with flowers and bunting and accompanied by brass bands, pipe bands,and the ever hilarious Woodcutters Band,they would make their way through the village,cementing the bonds of the village community.
I suppose it must have rained sometimes,but I can only recall the sunshine and the bright,bright summer days.
But here we are at the end of another year,Christmas is upon us and there is much to be done.No toys this year,books ,pencils ,cartridge pad and clothes.I wish I'd got a bike, but none of my mates did either, so I was far from deprived.
!955,our Jess would soon be leaving school............
BrianD

brian daley

10-27-2007, 04:19 PM

Grandma now had a t.v. set,as did a lot of my classmates families,the newspapers carried lots of stories about the programmes and the new television stars.We were missing out,but I couldn't quite see what it was that we were missing.When I went to Grandmas ,on a Sunday,I would see programmes like "Animal Vegetable Mineral" which had professors guessing what objects had been laid before them.Sir Mortimer Wheeler,Professor Joad,Marghanita Laski and other divers characters peopled these shows,and they were popular! But only because there was the one channel.There was always a childrens play on a Sunday,as well as Sooty and Sweep.Most of the good stuff seemed to be on in the week,which we never saw because we never had a television.And then one day Mum got Jess and me together and proposed that we get our own t.v.set.We would have to contribute towards it,but it would be like being able to go to the pictures every day.Sold!!
She went off to arrange an HP deal with Pools(shudder),and within a week they delivered the most wonderful looking television set.It was like a small wardrobe,finished in polished mahogany,it had two doors,behind which was a 17 inch screen.It was a wonderful piece of furniture...literally.When the man installed it, he got a picture of the test card on screen ,switched it off ,and then told us that broadcasts would start after 3-00p.m
We waited for Dad to get home so that he would have the pleasure of launching the Daleys into the T.V. age.
As soon as we had cleared away the evening meal,Dad switched on the box.
Zilch,there was nothing but snow on the screen and loud noises from the speakers.
Jess had to call Pools out to get things sorted,days later,the man turns up,twiddles the knobs,gets the test card,and goes away again.That night was a rerun of our first night,and so it went for many more weeks(I find it hard to believe that people put up with such poor service then ,but they did)
Pools would not take the set back,Mum wouldn't pay them,we were missing programmes.I phoned Pools,I told them that their set was being put on the landing and they would have to get it before the local kids did.It was gone within hours ,and Mum went to Radio Rentals.
Prior to possessing a t.v.,Mum and Dad would go out every Saturday,leaving Jess to watch over us.They would go out with friends and relatives to places like the Coffee House in Woolton. It was always jars out after closing time,and they would come back to our house for a pea soup and spare rib supper.There was always a crate or two for wetting the tonsils,and everybody used to give us their favourite song;quite often Jess and I would be fetched out if bed to sing a song or three.
Television killed all that stone dead.
Mum would stop at home from now on,there would be a big bag of toffees,and all, except Dad, would sit down in front of the box for our evenings entertainment. Dad would get togged up as usual and go off on his own to get bladdered.He always came home with the War Cry in his pocket.
What was it that kept us glued to the Box on a Saturday?Well,there was a thriller serial at about half past seven,"The Quatermass Experiment" and "The Trollenberg Terror" are two that I remember.We were so frightened of them that we checked under the bed before going to sleep.There was a series of "Saturday Spectaculars" which were variety shows hosted by stars like Eric Sykes,Dave King,Jon Pertwee,and others.Except for Jon Pertwees,most shows were just stage shows,with jugglers,ventriloquists,etc.Jon used to have some filmed sketches as well.Broadcasting stopped well before midnight,and so we would be in bed by the time Dad got back.

Mum staying at home enabled Jess to get out and start enjoying her teenage.
She was now a very pretty young lady,with a string of admirers and some very nice mates,with whom I was constantly developing crushes,not that they ever knew it,pre-teen age boys didn't appear on teenaged girls radar.
There were very few lads over the age of eighteen about now,I was beginning to become aware of a thing called National Service.Something my Dad was always saying we could do with.Apparently they made men out of you,it certainly changed the older lads in our gang.Teddy boys went in and would come home on their first leave.....unrecognisable.Short haired,with a Khaki uniform that had creases that were razor sharp ,and shiny boots to match.They were smart,and Dad used to point them out as examples.

Our Jess would have gone to college in another life,she had the brains for it ,and the aptitude,I was like Eeyore beside her.But school leaving time was here and Jess was going to work,in the Matchworks.
The first working day after Easter !955 saw our Jess,with a fresh white turban and an emerald green overall,join in the throng that responded to the works hooter.Out along the landings they flooded ,a green and white tide surging across Speke Road to begin another working day.For Jess ,it was the first step on the road to independence.

It was now my job to see to the fetching and and carrying of Chris to Maggie Browns.It was not much bother to me because I did it on the way to and from school.
It was around this time that my Mums younger brother, Frank ,came to see us .He was living at Grandmas with his wife Vera and their three children,life was a bit crowded for them there and he was so excited because the railway were going to let him have one of their trackside cottages by South Liverpool cemetery. It was very isolated,reached only by a long cinder track that ran between the cemetery and the wall that protected the railway track and property.The gate to their cottage was set in the wall about a third of a mile from Horrocks avenue.When they moved in ,Uncle Frank invited me over and showed me around.It was wonderful,there were vast expanses of growing areas ,and it was all his.The wall shielded the property the whole length of the lane.Frank was so excited as he mapped out the land with his hands,"We'll have potatoes there ,and cabbage,over there I'll plant beans and peas.Here we'll have a flower garden and we'll clear some ground for a play area." I was swept along with his enthusiasm and promised to help as much as I could. The cottage itself was very Victorian,there was room enough for all his family but it was old fashioned.Vera and Frank would have their work cut out for a few years before they would make any headway.

In the meantime ,I was still on the lookout for a regular source of income.And most jobs for schoolboys involved the need to ride a bike.Problem.I had never had a bike,nor could I ride one.
One of my classmates had a commando bike,these were made during the war for our special forces,they were fold up bikes and had a double crossbar.But they were bikes and I would have been glad to have one,however on this day,Ray let me have a go at riding his bike.I got it in motion,very shakily,but momentum ironed out the wobble ,and soon I was riding.I didn't see the kerb until it was too late.The front wheel hit it and I shot forward on to the double crossbar crushing the crown jewels.I hobbled home,covered in embarassment,for some of the girls from Duncombe Road school had seen my mishap.
When I went to the lavatory that night ,I saw that my stool was bright red.I didn't wish to alarm my Mum an kept quiet about it.Next morning ,it was the same bright red colour.After dropping Chris off at Maggies,I went to see Doctor Gibson,who promptly ordered an ambulance to take me to Myrtle Street hospital.I was pushed and pulled ,and given a good old examination,but they were puzzled as to why I was making bright red stools.
They gave me a note to come back next day,with a parent,or guardian ,so that I could have an X-ray.Mum asked Maggie if she could go with me and she said o.k.
Next day I was mortified when Maggie sat in the room whilst the doctors pulled my meat and two veg this way and that.The X-ray was taken and the doctors were looking at it,trying to see what was wrong,when I reached into my pocket for the bag of sweets that I had there for the past three days.
I was just putting an aniseed ball into my mouth when the doctor looked at me."How long have you had them for?" he shouted.I told him and I thought he was going to hit me,but he burst out laughing instead."Go home boy " he said.And I walked out with a familliar burning of cheeks.
Maggie couldn't wait to tell Mum,she also told her something else"You Know his willy isn't any bigger than it was when I caught him waggling it at our Rose 8 years ago.I wanted the floor to open up beneath me.

brian daley

10-29-2007, 10:30 PM

1955 was skidding past so fast it was hard to keep track of things,I was thirteen and a bit and the old Adam in me was beginning to make itself felt.
The voice was thirst thing to change,going from a boy soprano to a squeaky,uncertain croak,the spots bursting out in crucial places.Adolescence was a terrible price to pay for the journey into manhood.Which was still a long way off.
At school we had had showers installed and it was mandatory to use them after sports.That 12 months difference became very obvious when I was in the showers with the rest of my class.......................I was the pubeless one.I wished to god for at least one or two little follicles to start sprouting,instead I was greeted with cries of baldy b++++++s,whenever I showed up.You just had to laugh along with them or you'd go under.
I was mates with 3 lads from Woolton now,Joey Lewis,Billy Dawber and Reggie Owen.We were four very different characters.Joey,loved the Teddy boy style,but would never dare dress like that,had a machinegun style of patter and a very sharp wit,Reggie,he was always dressed very conventially,school uniform and hair very neat and tidy,but game for a laugh and a joke.And Billy,almost a mirror image of me,no school uniform,hair and clothes unkempt,but the funniest of the four of us.Dinnertime would find us spending our school dinner money on a vienna loaf from the bakers,always hot and crusty,we would bite the end off it and hollow it out(eating the removed innards),and then we would go to the chip shop and get threepennorth of chips, which we would pack onto the hollowed out loaf.Sheer bliss,I would love to do that one more time before I die!
With our change,all this was out of a shilling,we would buy a chocolate cigar from the sweet shop and then meander up to the golf course or Woolton park.
There were some beautiful chestnut trees on the Woolton side of Heath Road and boys from our school had gathered their conkers from them for generations past.
It was at such a time that one our of class mates,Googy Mills,climbed high up one of the bigger trees and fell.We were shocked to find that he had died ,it's a cliche ,but he really was a nice kid.
The whole school went into mourning for Googy,he was an all round sportsman,and a proper lad,he was greatly missed.
We four ,on the other hand,were all round wastrels,not one of us was in a team,we were always amongst the last in cross country races and were never picked for teams,kids in leg irons had a better chance than us!
So,what were we good at?......................Enjoying ourselves.I count those dinner time walks as being amongst the best times of my school life.I was only sad that the four of us didn't live closer so that we could spend more time together.
We would discuss what we had seen at the pictures,Joey would practically re-enact whole films for us,talk about our favourite radio shows,The Goon Show being top favourite,with Ray's a Laugh coming a close second.Television did'nt feature much in our conversations,there wasn't really that much on then,ITV was not yet born.
Sex raised it's head,quite literally,in the dying months of '55.Our class had a boy from a well known orphanage join us.He appeared to be a lot older than the rest of us ,worldly wise and full of new swear words,and we thought we knew them all,he was contemptuous of all the masters and pushed them to their limits.One afternoon,we were in a maths class taken by Mr.Blease,a man of great age,looked like Degaulle without a moustache,but must have been 70 or so.When we went to his class,we four would always sit on the back row,so that we could have a laugh.This time the orphan was in our midst.Midway during the lesson,he put up the lid of his desk,pulled out his willy,we thought he was going to pee in to the desk,but he shocked us by doing something we had never seen before.We could't fathom out what the hell was going on,he was groaning and grunting and all the while fiddling,and then of a sudden he stopped,with a dopey look on his face.Blimey!Old Mr. Blease hadn't noticed a thing,but the whole back row had just undergone a rite of passage.
A short while later I underwent another rite of passage.It was when I took our Chris around to Maggies for her babysitting stint.I knocked on the door as usual and one of the twins,John or Paul,I could never tell them apart,opened the door and told me to take Chris into the bedroom,pointing to which one.I went in and saw Maggie sitting on the bed in all her naked glory.This was the first truly naked woman I had ever seen,I didn't rush out,I couldn't.I was transfixed,she was so voluptuous,I just drank in the vision,seeing everything that had heretofore been a mystery.Womanhood.She threw a towel at me and told me to scarper.I limped to school in a dream.
When she came round for her money on Friday ,she told Mum that I wasn't such a little feller after all.

Did you ever look in the larder and notice that there was something there that had been there forever?Being a bit of a gannet I was always on the lookout for a surplus bit of grub.Now there was a Peak Freans christmas pudding that had been on the back shelf forever,well since last christmas at least.My bedroom was at the rear of the hallway,but our Jess's was next door to the larder and ,for reasons that I have long forgotten, I was put In Jess's room for one night while she was away.Next door to the larder!
When everyone was safely abed,I snuck out to the larder and lifted the pudding.I unwrapped it and got stuck in.Bit of a job eating an uncooked pudding,I managed to put away half of it,and ,forgetting I was in Jess's room,chucked the remains out of the window.Instead of landing on the green below,they landed just to the left of the front door step.Next morning I was awakened by Mum,holding the half eaten pudding,I never knew she had such a salty vocabulary.Good job she didn't tell Dad.

brian daley

11-10-2007, 02:58 PM

My search for work was unceasing,I wanted to have a bicycle like most of the kids I knew,but I knew that I was going to have to get one myself,it was out of the question to ask Mum or Dad for one.
By late '55 I was working full time on a Saturday for Mr. Cohen in Garston Market,as well as doing the baggage carrying on a Tuesday for two other stall holders.It gave me enough for the pictures and my comic books after Mum had taken her 7/6d off me.(37.5p).
One of the lads in our class worked for Appletons hardware store as a delivery boy,and ,knowing that I was looking for just such a job,informed me that he would be leaving school at Christmas and that I should apply for his job.
I was down at the shop as soon as I could get there,the manager,Mr. Moore was a very smartly dressed man of about 30,he wore a starched collar and his tie was done in a perfect knot.He gave me the once over,asked me a stack of questions,you would have thought I was applying to join the police!
He never asked if I could ride a bike though,and I never told him I couldn't,(after that crossbar incident on the commando bike I had never been near a bike)
As soon as school broke up for Christmas,Roy left Appletons and I reported for duty on the Saturday.
I was given a brush and told to sweep the main shop floor,and as the staff arrived,Mr Moore introduced me as the new lad.The staff consisted of three ladies,Mary,Barbara and Anne.Mary was silvery haired and had a very nice disposition,she became like an Aunty to me,Barbara had a beautiful face and a lovely figure,her blonde hair was styled like Lauren Bacalls,and she always wore a sensual perfume.But when she smiled...............,she hadn't got a tooth in her mouth!
Anne was about 16,she wore her hair in braids tied at the top of her head like a young fraulein,she had a wonderful complexion,blue eyes and nice red lips,but she was very,very chaste.Her family were strict christians and would not countenance any stylish dress or allow her to go dancing,she never complained,it was all the life she knew.
I came to love all three of those ladies during the course of the next two
years,Mr. Moore became,Ronnie after a little while and he and his family became very close to me during my youth.But I still haven't been out on a delivery yet!
It was during the morning that I was given my first delivery,a couple of tins of paint,bundles of wallpaper,paste,brushes and everything else required for a full decoration.Mr. Moore helped me load up my carrier,opened the back gate while I got the bike out and then,thank god,closed the gate and went back inside.What the hell was I going to do now?The shop was on St. Marys' Road,which was a slight hill going towards the crossroads at the bottom,apart from those tenuous few yards on the commando bike,I had no idea about getting started,I wheeled the bike around to the front of the shop and then down the road to the other side of the crossroads,just by the woolshop.The load made the bike heavy and hard to balance and I couldn't get my leg over the crossbar without it falling over.Phew,what the hell was I going to do?This delivery was for Speke and I was told to get back as quick as I could because there would be some more to do later on.There was a man my Dads age walking towards the Baths and I asked him if he could help me to get started.He laughed when I told him my story and eagerly jumped at the chance to get me mobile.Held the bike while I got mounted and then ran with me ,steadying me as I wobbled a bit,"Get pedalling now!" he shouted and I rode off toward Speke!
It felt marvellous,up past the Bus sheds,past Horrocks Avenue,struggled up over the railway bridge and then freewheeled down past the Tennies and Bryant and Mays.Those were the days when there was far less traffic about,I felt safe and when I came to the cycle track that ran along Speke Road I was on easy street.I practised braking and dismounting,I didn't want to land in a heap outside the customers house.The lady lived in Central Avenue and was so pleased when I arrived that she gave me sixpence as a tip. I flew back to the shop and did 2 more trips that day,getting another tip in the process.I was on 12 shillings a week ,Mum wanted 7/6d,and so ,with the tips, I would soon be a man of means .
That Christmas was the first that I was able to buy some gifts for my parents,not big gifts,ciggies for Dad and Black Magic chocolates for Mum,but it felt good being able to do it.
I still helped in the Market after I finished at Appletons and thus helped to swell my coffers by about another 5 shillings.
!956 saw me leaving the market jobs behind,Appletons were getting busier,which meant more deliveries,Mr Moores' wife,Mary had given birth to a little boy,Ronnie was his name and I sometimes babysat for them.Apart from my clothes,life was getting to be very good for me now,the clothes?..I was growing so fast that everything was too small for me in no time flat.Mum was despairing and resorted to buying second hand to help keep the costs down.
I can remember a suit she bought me ,it was about 30 years out of date,looked like the one Jimmy Cagney wore in Public Enemy.Double breasted ,with wide lapels and twenty inch bottoms on the trousers,this was my school suit,it was also my work suit and I pretty soon ruined it by getting the turn ups constantly meshed in the pedal chain.The bottom of my right trouser leg was an oily, ragged, mess.
By now I had my bike,it had a carrier and a name board under the crossbar,but it was a bike!Mr Mooore,or Ronnie as he was now known to me,let me take it home everyday.I rented a lock up by our block and used to keep it in there .I cleaned and polished it and gave it the occasional lick of paint,this was my independent mode of transport.There were a whole group of us order boys,Irwins,Pegrams,Dewhursts and the Co-Op to name just a few.We would swap tales and race each other,friendships were born among those young knights of the road.In my spare time, I would get a large cardboard box,an outer from the Kellogs cornflakes.This would sit snugly in my carrier and I would cut two small holes in the bottom and a larger,horizontal rectangular hole near the top.I put a cushion inside and,on top if this I would put my little sister Chris.She loved it,it was her car and we would go for long rides all over the place.
Jess was almost independent now,still at the Matchworks,but she wanted to see the world.Mum had become used to Jess's wages and she wasn't about to let her go off,she was sixteen.It was time for her to get a life of her own,she was desperate to join the Wrens,Dad was scathing,he was always telling us that life in the forces would do us both good ,but when Jess wanted to find that out first hand, he put the block on it.Jess tried to persuade him but he put his foot down and said that he didn't want his daughter becoming an officers groundsheet.That insult hurt our Jess,and it still hurts today,to think that her father had so little trust in her her own sense of propriety.
That same year a group of soldiers came to our school,they were recruiting for the Junior Army,(I was still a school year ahead of my real age and was in the class that would start leaving School in the summer),they showed a film and gave us forms to take home to our parents if we wanted to go there instead of going into a factory when we left school.I was dead keen,and wouldn't Dad be proud of me ,going off to become a soldier?
He hit the roof when I showed him the papers ,"who the Hell d'you think you are?" he shouted,"You're too soft to be in the Army"............Disappointed,I tore the forms up,but resolved that I would show him someday that I was not as soft as he thought I was.
There was only one boy out of our class who went into the Junior Army,David Hough was his name,the last time I saw him was in 1959,he looked great,every inch an officer type ,with his cravat,cavalry twill and desert boots.I often wonder what became of him.
But school still beckoned for me,and I was beginning to get concerned about the Big Lie,soon I would have to reveal that I was only 14 and not, as the rest of the class ,15.When I revealed my fears to Mum she told me that she had told Banks Road school my real age and that the class I had been put into there ,was the class I should have been in after the summer break.It was my fault...........................................,h ow was I going to explain all that to our headmaster,Mr Simpson,and man renown for his lack of humour.
At school assembly one morning,during the punishment period,he had two senior boys standing there awaiting the cane.He read out the "crimes" that they were accused of,one of which was smoking behind the bike sheds.
Glowering at them,he turned to the rest of us and thundered"SMOKING ,BEHIND THE BICYCLE SHEDS!!........I COULD UNDERSTAND IT IF THEY WERE GERMANS!!!!"
We kids were given a mental image of German kids walking around puffing on fags.An image that I found to be very untrue when I went there a few years later.
So how to tell this choleric old man that I was a fake?.....................Mum sat down and wrote him a long letter and told me to take it to him in person.
The very next day I asked Miss Pugh,his secretary,if I could have a word with Mr Simpson,she went in and asked ,and then came out and led me into his presence.Close up he was very poweful,he could have been a general or captain of industry,such was his persona.Looking over his halfmoon glasses,he asked what I wanted to tell him,tongue tied ,I handed him Mums letter.He took his paper knife and slowly cut it open,the only sounds to be heard were the cracking and spitting of the coal fire,and the thudding of my heart.
I watched as his eyes scanned Mums words.Slowly,but perceptibly,a smile started to appear on his face.And then he laughed,this fearsome man was laughing aloud.He put the letter down and looked up at me "Daley,this is wonderful,you now have the chance to catch up on you education!"I was amazed,no shouting,no punishment,what had Mum written?To this day I don't know,but whatever she wrote ,it worked.
That summer,all of my classmates would leave school and embark on their careers,I would have another year at Heath Road.
What would the future bring?

brian daley

11-15-2007, 10:59 PM

The period between Easter and Summer school holidays was long and I looked forward to the break with very mixed feelings,all of the boys I had spent the last four years with were about to go out into the great wide world to start their working life.I,on the other hand,was going to spend another school year,with boys who were near strangers to me,boys who were heretofore called"juniors".
There was no slacking off in my studies,I still had a lot of learning to do.
It was ironic in that I was still treated as a school leaver,when the class were taken on visits to the various factories that would be recruiting school leavers,I was always included.I did not like what I saw.We went to Dunlops,The Box company,Manesty's,Evans Medical and others.I could'nt see myself stuck at a lathe or welding machine for days on end.Besides my Dad wanted me to be apprenticed to him at the ROF.God,he was bad enough at home with his sergeant majors ways,there was no way that I could work under him.I would be forever disappointing him.
I liked metal work though,we went to a prefab type building in Horrocks Avenue for our weekly sessions.Unlike my pathetic woodworking skills,metalwork was something I understood and liked.
The first thing I ever made was a key fob,just a little copper tag,pierced with a hole at one end;we covered it in wax and scratched the name of the recipient on it.I wrote my Dads name,we then dipped it in acid and the name was etched sharply in to the metal.I took it home and gave it to Dad,he looked at it,turning it this way and that,and then said "You left it too long in the acid,you'd a got a better finish.................."He saw my face and never did finish that sentence.I never took anything I made home after that,I made shovels,lampstands,a beautiful multicoloured poker and a coffee table.I gave them all to my boss at Appletons,he and his wife Mary always made a fuss when I gave them something.But life has a way of showing us how wrong our assumptions can be,when my Dad was dying in hospital,I was sitting with him and he reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out his wallet.He took out the key tag and handed it to me.................he'd kept it close to him for more than forty years.What fools we men can be,that summed up our whole relationship,never saying what we really felt,letting our heads rule our hearts.
But I digress,back then ,in '56,life was changing,and so was the music,skiffle was all the rage,we had 6,5 Special on a Saturday night and jive was the dance to learn.Our Jess loved dancing and was an ace jiver,she had the pony tail,the waspy belt,the chiffon choker..............and a trail of boyfriends.
We saw less and less of her now,she was always out,and Mum worked at the Matchworks with her now.Chris was three and Bette was nine and a bit,our Bette was lumbered with the job of picking Chris up from Maggie Browns now because I used to go to Appletons straight from school.I did'nt have time forthe Market now and,anyway I'd got myself a Sunday morning job delivering papers for Thompsons,the paper shop across the road from the fire station.I got 7/6d for a two hour round ,I was getting to be able to afford to buy some clothes now,out of Freemans catalogue!
Mum was embarrassed by my my ragbag appearance,I remember one Saturday when she was going to a wedding reception,I was pushing my bike out of Appletons yard when she was walking past the street I was in,there she is,striding up St.Marys Road,dolled up to the nines in her big fur coat,surrounded by her mates,all in their glad rags too,when this ragged urchin calls out "Where are yer gowin Mam!!?"She near died of embarassment,she fluttered her hand and smiled ,pushing her mates forward.I twigged,but not a moment too soon.
Another time I was tootling along on my order bike,I turned left off St Marys Road to take a short cut past the Empire,when I runs into a pack of screaming females,our Jess's mate Brenda amongst them.What the hell was up?They were jumping and yelling,some were crying!And then I saw why,Frankie Vaughan was signing copies of his latest hit in the record shop.
Shirley Bassey was there a few months later.It was'nt rock and roll but it was pop and it was coming eveywhere.
There was a little cafe on the road up to Garston Park and it was around this time that the owner installed a Bal Ami juke box.America had arrived in Garston!! The place was packed out everynight,6d got you a cup of coffee and a shilling got you four records on the box,it even took threepenny bits.I can ramember going in with Frankie Williams and finding the place full of semi Teds,they had the hair styles but no suits,I went straight over to the juke box and stuck me 3d in ,picked a record,Lonnie Donegans Rock Island Line,this immediately began to play and I was subjected to murderous threats by this enormous kid Because he had just put a shilling in and my record played before any of his.Frank and I retired gracefully,zapping off to the Lyceum to lie low for a few hours .
The Lyceum,a place of learning as the Greeks would have it ,not that place though.It was a flea pit,the screen was full of patches and the seats were so uncomfortable.It never showed the top films,I don't suppose it could afford them.But that was the place I saw the original King Kong,a fantastic film,they showed all the X rated and H rated films,so fleabitten though it was,it was never empty.And it had one thing the Empire never had,love seats.Double seats where you could sit and canoodle,sometimes the action in those seats was better than that on screen.
I spent many a happy ,if unhealthy hour,watching life in all its glory from the
shilling seats in the Lyceum.

We had a new teacher now,one who would colour the world a little differently,he was an ex Merchant Navy officer.

brian daley

11-16-2007, 01:56 PM

I hated maths,couldn't see the point of filling a bath with holes in to see how long it would take,algebra,logarithms,triginometry,it was all chinese to me.I used to spend blissful hours at the maths desk,counting the dust motes as they glistened in the shafts of sunlight,dreaming of distant coral strands where the surf broke on golden beaches and palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze.My maths results reflected the attention paid during the lesson.7 out of a hundred was my usual score.Our new maths teachers had no more chance of gaining my attention to the matter in hand than I had of flying to the moon,but he did succeed in one thing.He determined me on a seagoing career,to the exclusion of everything else!
Mr Pomfrey was not a young man,nor was he handsome or well built,he was portly and not very tall,but he was magnetic when you got him onto the subject of ships and the sea.
The maths lessons for Form 4b became a history of Mr Pomfreys' life aboard the ships of the Merchant Navy,through him we learned of the best ports in the world for a sailor,what life was like in Shanghai before the war,what burgoo was(porridge),that ceilings were deckheads,that boys were peggys' and that the 12 to 4 watch was the best watch of all.He taught us Masefield,"Dirty British coaster with a salt caked smoke stack,ploughing through the channel on a mad March day.He related mathematics to his time as a 2nd mate,and illustrated the uses of logarithms and all the other disciplines,their applications in navigation and other trades.All I learned was that there were ports called Nombre de Dios,Belawan,Trincomalee,that there were oceans where flying fish skimmed the waves,that the best beef steaks were to be had in Buenos Aires and that a Captains word was law.
Through him I began to take a greater interest in ships and the men who sailed on them,Granddad Hengler was an old salt and had worked for Cunard and the White Star.He'd been at sea through the Great War and gave little glimpses of what life had been like then.Uncle Charlie was still at sea,he was a cook and when he came home he would light up the street with his laughter and tickle our palates with his home made Yankee doughnuts,just the sight of him was advert enough for the M.N.,always tanned ,with a gleaming set of teeth and a roguish twinkle in his eye,he was every inch a Jolly Jack.
In Garston you would the the seamen going to the pubs ,with their pockets full of tin,wearing yankee denims that were sea blue,T shirts , tartan shirts and open, suntanned faces.They stood out from the pasty faced locals and I couldn't wait to be like them.But you had to 16 before you could apply to go to the training school and that was a little way off yet.

I had to get on with the jobs I already had,I enjoyed both of them,the one at Appletons was the best because I was always out on the road ,as long as I got my deliveries done Ronnie left me pretty much to do what I wanted.
There was the odd time or two when I wondered if I was in the right job though...................like the time he asked me to deliver a dustbin to Speke.
The bin filled the whole of my basket if it was stood upright,the problem was ,you could not see where you were going,always essential if you are on the road.He laid it across the basket,this enabled me to see but gave me limited use of the handle bars for steering.He decided that the latter way was the only way I was going to manage,and so he made it fast to the carrier and helped me out into the street, where I mounted and set off on my journey.It was like learning to ride all over again,the steering was so limited and if I moved the 'bars too much they would bounce off the other side of the bin and cause me to veer wildly.And all this was while I was still outside the shop!
I got out in to St Marys Road and headed downhill,the handle bars were rattling like hell and I couldn't control the steering..................I left the road,mounted the pavement and shot through Blackledges doorway at full speed ,hitting the cake counter and sending the staff into a panicked frenzy.I picked up my bike,with a dented bin and walked the ****ed thing to Speke.
The other time I had second thoughts was on a very cold winters day( I have already related this tale in my first postings)I had to do 2 deliveries to a Nursing Home in Grassendale,both trips would be with a fully laden carrier,quite weighty.The wind was blowing in the direction of Garston,from Grassendale!I was standing on those pedals almost the whole way there,the cold was making my teeth chatter,my hands were frozen and my legs were aching with the strain.When I got there ,dinner was being prepared,I got my load off and flew back to the shop with a following wind giving fillip to my efforts.The second load was even heavier than the the first,and the wind was still as biting,I arrived,almost blue with the cold,the Kitchen door was open and I could smell the hot food,aromas of steak and kidney puddings and boiled veg assailed my poor frozen nostrils.The cook seeing the hunger written acros my face,asked if I was hungry.My heart leapt as my head nodded yes,she disappeared in to the kitchen and returned"Ere yar lad " she said,handing me a solitary spring onion.
But ,happily, those were the only times that I questioned my job.

Meantime,Frank and Vera were settling in nicely in the railway cottage,there was still a lot to do in the garden and I loved having a go when I could ,not having a garden of our own.
Sundays were still spent visiting the relatives,I quite looked forward to it,as well as dinner at Grandmas,there was tea at Uncle Bills,he was a great story teller and a gadget man.He was always finding something that you did'nt know you could'nt live without ,and sometimes,if I was lucky,he would take me with him on one his trips in his BRS wagon.Sarah,his wife would always bake me a jam turnover,knowing that it was my favourite.Another aunty I used to call in and see on a Sunday,my uncle Gerrys' wife,Lily, always had a Jam turnover freshly baked for me,I had it for elevens's.It was a good job that I was so active,they'd have had me fat as barrel between them.

The summer of '56 saw the Speke Airshow,to us at the Tennies ,it was rather special for a lot of the boys there were model plane enthusiasts and this was a great chance to see the real thing.There were to be planes from all over the world,stunt planes,war planes,veteran planes and jet planes.This year though,they had someone special coming,a Belgian called Leon Valentin.
We had seen him at the cinema in the Pathe News,this man could fly......without a plane! He would go up in a plane and jump out wearing balsa wood wings.We had seen him do the stunt ,gliding gracefully down through the sky,it looked fantastic in film,and now we would see it for real.
It was a beautiful sunny day,a group of us lay on the grass at the edge of the airfield,listening to the commentary coming over the tannoy,the mans voice sounded just like Kenneth Wostenholmes,that beautifully clipped, clearly enunciated english that we were so familiar with.There was a lot going on and it was some time before the "Birdman" made his appearance.The first we knew that the event was beginning,was when the commentator drew our attention to a Dakota aircraft rising up in to the sky,that was the plane carrying Leon Valentin.The plane reached the required height,we could see the door in the fuselage open,and then a colourful figure appeared in the doorway.The man was going to fly.....now!
He launched himself into the air,the wings appeared to be funny,they were above his head.........................he was plummeting to earth and the commentators voice was strangulated with shock and grief.To us ,on the ground,it was a falling shape in the distance,there was no emotion involved.we were too far removed from it.The poor man landed in Hunts Cross,when he was found,most of his balsa wood wings had disappeared,rumour had it that local kids had snatched them as souveneirs.
I still find it hard to look at sky divers without thinking of that far off summers day.

Ged

11-16-2007, 02:14 PM

Marmilise ? Marmalise ?

How do you spell it, doesn't seem to be in the dictionary yet it was a word me mam used to say she'd 'Marmilise me if I didn't eat all my tea up' etc etc - it was used in other forms too to coax me to do things I didn't want to - like go to bed or get in from playing footy in the square.

shytalk

11-16-2007, 06:00 PM

I was at that airshow Brian, I remember the picture in the next days echo just showing his watch which had stopped when he hit.

brian daley

11-17-2007, 07:03 PM

All too soon the summer holidays came to an end and it was time for my last year at school.
When I returned to Heath Road, I was tickled pink to find that they had put me in the top form,4a.Not that I deserved it,I was an academic duffer,could'nt do maths to save my life,could spell physics,but had absolutely no understanding of them.And science,forget it,our science master,Mr Hamilton,later became leader of Liverpool City Council.He came from a very old and distinguished family,but he failed with me.Sad to say,the only subjects that I shone in were History,Geography and English Lit.There were not many jobs on offer in Garston for anyone who specialised in those subjects.
Settling in with my new classmates was not too difficult,they knew of me and treated me with an easy caution,when they knew me a bit better,things improved.I missed my old gang and had to make new friends,one boy I became friendly with was called Ernie,he lived in the terraced houses just past Blackwells.He was an easy going fellow and we spent some time together,we even went to night school.He was a much smarter dresser than me,but he was'nt condescending,we found we enjoyed most of the same things and we even managed to get girlfriends who were mates.
They came from Allerton,college girls,they only ever wore their uniforms and we never got to taking them out at night.We met them at the 86 bus by the church at the other side of Mather Avenue,they were geting off the bus we were supposed to be getting on.We had seen them a few times and this time we took the chance to talk to them.I was amazed when they chatted back,we didn't bother getting on that bus,but walked awhile with them.Every night after that we chatted when we could and then hurried off,Ernie to home and me to Appletons.I had my first proper kiss with Brenda,I can remember wondering how it was done.Did you keep your lips closed or did you ....I can remember our noses bumping and our teeth clashing.As a great first kiss it rated zero.I can recall the conversation Ernie and I had on the bus afterwards,it was all about the proper technique for snogging.We dallied with the girls until the dark nights came along and then they were met at the bus stop by one of their mothers.We found out later that they were only thirteen!
Christmas that year was one of the first that we spent at home,we made a lightening visit to Walton and returned to Garston for a proper Christmas at home.Mum did a goose and a leg of pork and all the trimmings that went with
it,we had christmas pud with custard to follow and,as a treat were given a glass of port.After the dishes were cleared away,we watched t.v.,this was the beginning of the modern christmas.
Mum had bought me a huge artists cartridge pad for my main present and a whole load of pencils.I was very much into art at that time.I used to spend hours down at the Pier Head ,trying to sketch the waterfront.I would get so absorbed in what I was doing that I never noticed how many people stopped to look at what I was sketching.Sometimes they would stop and talk,in fact I met the most beautiful young lady there who got chatting to me,I was smitten the moment she started to speak.She was from Cheshire and had come over on the ferry,I cannot remember too much of what we spoke about,only that I wanted that moment to last forever.Alas ,her father came for her and I never got to know her name.
I loved that landing stage,this was in the days when there were ferries to New Brighton ,Wallasey,Secombe and Birkenhead.There was such a hustle and bustle about the place.The ferry boats themselves were like bewhiskered walruses,huffing and puffing across the river,there would be three alongside ,three in the river and three on the other side.The whole waterfront was alive with ships,whistles and steam horns blowing,a forest of masts in the docks ,the sound of jack hammers and rivetting guns in the shipyards across the river, all adding to that marine symphony that provided the sound track of that wonderful ,dirty old river.
As I walked around the streets across the Strand I would look up at the shipping offices,their walls arrayed with the names of the places their ships were bound,Pappayanni's,Blue Funnel,Pacific Steam Navigation,and many ,many more ,What boy could not be curious about the places named,Pago Pago,where was that?Sumatra,Chile and far off Hong Kong.Mr Pomfrey had lit a fire within me and I wanted to go off and find these places for myself.

I was made deputy head boy of the school,only because they did'nt know what else to do with me.The head boy was the total opposite of me,an all round sportsman,iron jawed,tall and resolute,I felt tired just looking at him.I was a prefect too,totally useless,but the badges mattered,they gave you a certain cachet.I spent very little time in class in my last term,the teachers used me as a kind of gofer.Any boys that had to be taken home or to the doctors ,yours truly was the man for the job,I was'nt unhappy to do it ,in fact I liked it,after all those years of swotting, this was the business.
When the schools inspector came to give the leavers career advice,he offered to help me get a job in journalism.When I told Dad ,he scoffed at the idea,he still expected me to work with him.
I was determined to be independent of him and started to look around for any kind of a job that was not factory work.
Ernie and I had become engaged in finding some place that suited our talents and to that end,we would scour the jobs adverts in the Echo,although it was the period of full employment,for a Garston lad,that usually meant the Bottle works,the Bobbin Works,The Tannery,the gasworks or one of the factories in Speke.None of which appealed to yours truly.
Mum spotted an advert for a new butchers shop that was opening in Spring,Grandma knew the owner of this chain,W.E .Kearns,she helped me compose a letter.It was weeks before I got a reply and Dad was growling that I should'nt be bothered trying to get a job anywhere when he could get me a job at the ROF.
Meanwhile,I'd got into the pattern of going to Ernies after we had been to night school,he would make a bit of supper and we'd have a chat about this and,I'd noticed his Mum sitting in the front room,sitting at a table upon which there was a small board game,or so I thought.I asked Ernie what she was doing,"Oh she's talking to Dad",I must have looked puzzled,because his Dad was dead."Er,how d'you mean?"I asked."She's got a ouija board and she talks to him every night" he replied ,as if it was the most natural thing in the world."Come on in ,I'll get her to introduce you to him".So in to the parlour we went,Mrs Hesketh looked up and said "Ernies brought someone to meet you".she said to the ceiling. Now I was having a job to keep a straight face,I thought they were joking.The little glass she had her finger on started zipping around the letters,so fast that I could'nt keep track,she said "He says Hello"My face must have been a picture,I must have shown my disbelief."Don't be frightened Brian (I was'nt),he can see the future,ask him anything." Well, I wasn't going to ask the obvious,like where will I work when I leave school(just weeks away now),so I asked him who I would be working with. Back came the reply "You will work with a B.K,a B.M. and an S.L,there will be others too" Seeing as how I had'nt got a job yet,that could have meant anything.
Next day I got a reply from W.E Kearns,they wanted me to go for an interview
at their head office in Old Swan.It was very intimidating ,my first interview for for a proper job.Mr Kearns was a very kindly man,cut from the same cloth as Mr Simpson,first world war veteran,churchgoing and very much the business man.They had a chain of shops and their Garston shop would be their biggest,it would have 12 employees.I got the job and would start during the Easter holiday.I could'nt believe it,I would soon be starting a whole new life...

brian daley

11-24-2007, 06:22 PM

I never did any schoolwork in those last few weeks,I was given estimated marks for my end of term report.................................I ended up with the fourth highest results in the class,which was the top form.Not that it was going to do me any good though,I was going to be a butcher boy!
I'd done 5 years at Heath Road and it was quite a wrench to leave.It was Easter and my birthday fell in the last couple of days of the school break,so I assumed that now I was 15,I could start work.Wrong assumption!
I turned up at the new shop to start work the day I turned 15,I had no proper paperwork,I thought the school would send it all on when the holiday was over and the shop manager,Mr Lewis,accepted that that would be the case and put me to work straight away.
The shop was'nt due to open for another fortnight,the floors were still being laid in the main sales area so most of my work consisted of cleaning up after the builders,decorators and carpenters.I still went to Appletons in that first week,I did a couple of deliveries and would officially leave on the Saturday,the butchers not being open for business allowed me to leave Ronnie and the girls with good grace.Come Saturday evening,Ronnie closed the shop door as usual and the girls,instead of rushing for their coats,formed a little circle about me and Ronnie made said a few words about my going out into the real world,and how happy he had been with my time at the shop.
I was choked,old Mary then stepped forward and gave me a beautiful leather wallet,"To put your proper wages in,and with a little bit to start you off with"
As each of them kissed me goodbye I was filled with sadness to be leaving,I was only going 300 yards down the road,but I was taking my first great step into manhood.I walked home,for the first time in 18 months,no more order bike.Taking the wallet out of my pocket,I undid the fastener and saw that there were three pounds in it,with a little note wishing me all the best signed by all of them.That was a huge amount of money,more than two weeks wages at the butchers shop.Mum had to buy my blue and white striped apron
so the money helped out there,Kearns provided the white coats.
Work started at 7.00a.m.,with an hours break for lunch at 1.00p.m.and then you worked from 2.00p.m. until closing time at 6.00p.m.,you had to clean up then which saw you going home at about 6.30. Wednesdays was half day closing and you worked all day Saturday.
The floor layers were still working when I turned up for work on the Monday,they were from Milan and spoke very little english ,but they were good for a laugh and proceeded to teach me to curse in Italian,some of which I have never forgotten.The regular staff who would be working there started to turn up on different days that week,the first two,Brian Kibby and Betty Melia..(Those initials,how did Ernies Mum guess?)came from another of the companys' shop elsewhere in Liverpool.We were all put to scrubbing and polishing,the floor was finished the counters fitted,the fridges stocked with meat,more staff arrived and by Friday the bosses,the Brothers Kearns,arrived to make the final preparations for Sarurdays opening.We now had a staff of twelve and I was the youngest,my job was to do whatever anyone told me to do,carry,clean and polish.When old W.E.,as the elder Mr Kearns was known,found out that I was local,he asked me if I knew where the local timber yard was,I answered in the affirmative and he despatched to fetch a sack of clean sawdust.The timber yard was under the bridge,down by the tanyard,a hell of a walk with a hundred weight bag of sawdust on your back,but that was a journey that I would be making every week for the next 18 months.It was dreadful,I had a sack that was as big as me and I had to fill it to the brim,knot it and then tote it on my back.The sack was of a loose weave and the particles of sawdust would work their way down between my collar and my neck ,I would be chafed raw by the time I got to the shop.
I used to be given little homily's by W.E., or Mr Lewis, about how much harder it was when they were young,like a sucker ,I believed them.It was'nt worth complaining,your parents had been forever telling you how bad it had been for them.This was how you got to being grown up,toting big bags of sawdust and scrubbing wooden blocks until they looked bleached.
My leaving school without the proper paperwork caught up with me in the second week at Kearns,the school contacted me and told me that I was'nt due to leave until the summer break,I explained that I had started work and that it would jeopardised my chances if I had to go back to school,old Mr Simpson said that I could never get anything right ,but he did the paperwork and made things O.K.

It was'nt all doom and gloom at work though,very far from it.The food was great! Every day I was allowed to to pick out chops,steaks, kidneys and liver and take them to the kitchen upstairs where I would put them under the grille for the staff lunch,there I would cook them until they just right,the smell of all that sizzling meat would permeate the whole shop so that appetites were sharpened,there was a near stampede for the messroom as soon as the front door was bolted .I always made sure that I never went short,indeed ,I used to dip bread into the juices as I was cooking it ,oooooooooooooh bliss,but I never put weight on,they worked me to blooming hard for that to happen.
Being a kid,it was like being invisible , five ladies worked there now,at dinner time I would sit in the corner and get stuck into my food,the older lads would go out and tinker with their motorbikes ,or play cards,neither of which appealed to me ,so I would sit and read a paper and overhear the womens gossip.They were salty as hell,talking about their "fellers" and what they got up to,I think they knew I was listening because I would blush crimson whenever I heard anything outrageous.This was the days before tights and they would adjust their suspenders while I sat there.....phew.I think I saw more of them than their "fellers"did,but I was only the kid so what did it matter.But it did,to me.I didn't have a girlfriend but there wasn't anything I did'nt know about suspenders.
Mr Lewis was a stickler for discipline,he did'nt allow talking in the cutting room,every now and then he would put his head around the opening from the sales area and tell me to shut up."any more and it's either you go or I go " he would say,leaving me a very puzzled boy,why would he want to leave because I was a chatterbox?
I was surprised at how quickly the people came and went from that shop in those first few months,gradually a team began to form,Mr Lewis was the manager,he was an ex segeant major,and looked it,with severe short back and side and cheeks shaved to a high gloss,there was John Kearney,he had been in intelligence during the Italian campaign and could speak fluent Italian,not very useful in a Garston butchers,but came in handy in in the war.
Then there was Joey,cocky ex National serviceman,did his time in Cyprus and was full of tales about EOKA,there was Ted,nobody liked Ted,he was spooky,quietly spoken,near middle aged,the women said they always said that
he looked as though he was undressing them,I never felt comfortable with him either,could have been an axe murderer!After Ted came Mick,he was a body builder,fit as a flea,built like Garth but was a great bloke,taught me the different cutting methods and and how to pull the girls(never worked );below Mick was Bernie,he was just a bit older than me but his social life was a lot wider than mine,more of which anon,and after Bernie came Harry and me.
Harry came from a new estate on the edge of Gateacre,he looked a lot like Marty Wilde and he ,like Bernie,loved rhythm and blues.Long before I'd heard it called one,Harry used to play the air guitar,moving his hips like Elvis,he would go off on a riff,old Sid Lewis would go beserk."Corser!!" he would yell,"Any more of that racket and yer down the road!!"
Bernie would also play the air guitar....silently.This then was the male crew,the females consisted of two Marys,Betty(she was Jimmy Melias sister)
there were three other ladies whose names I have forgotten,but whose faces remain in my memory,they were pretty,but older than me,they never knew how I felt when they would tickle my chin or kiss my cheeks,I loved them to death but was mute with shyness.

I still kept in touch with Ronnie and his wife Mary,little Ronnie was now a toddler and I would often babysit for them and,as a reward, Ronnie would either take me to his favourite pub ,the Queens, and buy me cider and guinness,or take me to see a science fiction movie,he loved them.
That autumn they told me that they were going to have another baby and were very excited about what the child would be,Ronnie fancied having a daughter.They were a lovely couple and life looked very rosy indeed.

Bernie asked if I would like to go to a dance at his youth club,it was in Speke,in a catholic church hall off Central Avenue.There would be plenty of girls there! Mum had just bought me an outfit that was very hollywood,a pastel green jacket with patch pockets with pale green gaberdine trousers,a gold flecked shirt and crepe soled shoes.I felt like a killer!
When I got there,there were girls, one of them looked like a film star,her name was Helen and she was at college.Her hair was jet black and hung in perfect
bangs with a neat fringe,crimson lips beneath the deepest blue eyes.
Even though I couldn't dance ,I plucked up courage and asked her to the floor while the band played "Witchcraft"I smooched around the floor ,feeling electric with this dream in my arms.Luckily,the band only knew about three tunes,Witchcraft being their favourite,so the dance seemed to last forever.
She turned out to be one of Bernies social circle so we all sat together.I couldn't imagine a girl like that wanting to know someone like me ,but she was kind and included me in her conversation.The night passed in a whirl and pretty soon it was coats on time and off for home.I just seemed to stay with Helen....all the the way to her house.I wanted to hold her hand but was too shy to attempt it,I wanted to tell her that I thought she was great,but was too tongue tied.Instead we talked of her college work,she was doing Greek mythology,which I liked and the more we talked the less chance there was of asking for a date.I was stupid,I had three sisters,but knew naff all about girls.I left her,standing at her gate saying see you next week,and walked hopelessly to the bus stop.

I thought I was ugly,with my scrawny neck,jug ears,big adams apple and spots,how could a girl like me?I used to envy the lads at work when they spoke of their weekend conquests,all talk about first and second base was over my head,I was'nt even on the field!
It's a good job I had my relatives,helping Frank and Vera with their garden and going out with Uncle Bill for wagon rides helped keep me anchored.
The railway cottage and garden was becoming idyllic,isolated,acres of garden behind a long,long,wall,away from the prying eyes of nosey neighbours,no busy roads,it was a lovely place to bring up kids.Vera took a part time job to supplement the household bills,and little by little, their house became a home .Vera could bake pies as good as my mothers ,with all the rhubarb that Frank had harvested she was baking on a production line basis,that sugar dusted, short crust pastry would just melt in your mouth.I was so glad they lived so near.
One Sunday I went to Grandmas and met a young lady who captured my heart,she was red haired,green eyed,and loved me on sight!When she put her paws on my shoulders and licked my face I was hers.Every Sunday I would take her to Stanley Park and we would spend hours running and chasing through the trees over the bridge,round the palmhouse and on the fields.I had been frightened by a dog when I was very young but Rusty,for that was she,removed any fear that may have been left.We'd get back to Grandmas ,just in time for dinner and then I would leave her for another week.Sadly for Grandma,Rusty needed a home where she would get regular exercise,happily for Rusty,Uncle Bill took her to his house,his daughters,there would be six of them eventually,loved her .And that was the reason I made sure that I visited them every Sunday,I too missed Rusty.When I walked around the corner of the top of their road ,Rustys' head would shoot up and she would come bounding toward me.There is nothing quite like a dogs devotion and I enjoyed Rustys' for many a year.
One Sunday when I was at uncle Bills,he engaged me in a conversation in which he asked me what my favourite things were,I thought it was a bit unusual and wondered were it was leading to.He stopped his questioning and then clicked something and the next thing I knew was that he was asking the same questions that he had just asked me,only his lips were,nt moving and I did'nt recognise who was giving the answers.The girls were looking at me ,giggling for they knew what was going on,Billy had just used his newest gadget.....a tape recorder!!! I was amazed,that strange voice was mine. I had to have one,they were enormous great reel to reel things but I could see all kinds of possibilities.It would cost me a shilling a week for 4 years,I didn't have to think about it,the following Sunday I picked up my Phillips reel to reel and started a whole new career,or so I thought.But although I never became an ace reporter,or record producer I did have fun........................

brian daley

11-26-2007, 05:29 PM

That tape recorder was the size of an airline flight bag,mains powered ,it required a 3 pin socket to operate,but it was as modern as you could get then.
When I took it home,Mum thought I was wasting my money on such an expensive bit of kit,Dad looked bemused,and my sisters could'nt wait to see how it worked.We spent hours recording them, singing ditties and pieces of nursery rhymes,no could believe that they "sounded like that".Later,the lads in the square had me around to some of their houses to let their folks see the wonder of the modern age.At one of the houses,the mother had her friend in for a cup of tea and a gossip, and Norman,her son,got me to stick the microphone under the table to record the gossip.We let it record for about 5 minutes and then,when there was a break in their chatter,I played it back at full volume. They were astounded,thinking that someone else was in the room having a jangle.Me and Norman were in fits of laughter under the table,they were baffled as to what was going on, and embarassed that such juicy gossip was now on tape. I erased it and showed them how it worked.

Bernie told me that his mate ,Ricky,had a tape recorder that he had bought when he was in the States,he was what we called a "Cunard Yank".He was a steward with Cunard Line and was home that week,Bernie asked if I would like to bring my machine to Rickys',he had all the latest records from New York and would, most probably let me record some of them.This was a time when American music ruled the world,Elvis,Gene Vincent,The Everleys',Chuck Berry,Buddy Holly and all those other "rebels" were making the kind of music we kids raved about,the only trouble was we never got to hearing the records until months after they had been released in the States.Over here we had the Embassy label, which was sold in Woolworths, and they were all
covers done by unknowns .But Ricky had boxfuls of the real things. So ,yes,I wanted to meet Ricky.
Come Friday night,Bernie took me around to meet Ricky,he was a real nice bloke,dressed in american clothes,he looked the business.He let us look through the record collection,they were all long players and e.p.'s.The first I had seen in real life,we had 78's,big brittle discs that would scratch easily,and crack with the slightest pressure.This was heaven,and the music was great.
While we were there,Ricky made us a bit of supper,it was out of a can and the can had been bought in a deli in New York.That was the first time I had tasted ravioli,I was knocked out by it ,it was like eating food from another planet.This was another reason for me to go to sea,there was food out there that was waiting to be eaten....................by me!
We played around with our tape recorders,and I taped a load of his records,we also managed to create a great sound of our own;Bernie had a halfway decent voice ,so we got him to sing "Wake Up Little Susie" an Everley Brothers hit.We then played it back and got him to sing along with it,we double tracked it ,treble tracked it and ,by the time we had finished,it sounded like something by Les Paul and Mary Ford,fantastic!
There used to be a dance in the school hall in Central Avenue,when Ricky was home he would take his american discs along and the place would be packed.I went along once or twice,I was still a lousy dancer,unlike our Jess,she was a real "dancing queen".She tried to show me the basics but she never had much success.
She was a good singer too!This was a time that skiffle was at its peak,Lonnie Donegan,Nancy Whiskey and Chas McDevitt were amongst the top singers and players then and our Jess could sing just like Nancy Whiskey.
Freight Train was her favourite song and she had me tape that a time or two so that she could get it just right. She had a friend who lived in Speke,Josie Murphy,Josies' Dad,Terry ,had an electric guitar which he was expert at playing.He had been on the Carol Levis Show some years ago and now did a bit of backing for singers in pubs and clubs.Jess got me to go down to Josies' with her and record she and Terry doing "Freight Train" and one or two other numbers.They were brilliant,I'm sorry that I never kept them,but you don't realise that the future isn't endless when you are that age.
Josie had a pretty young sister,I think her name was Anne,and Josie and Jess thought it would be nice if I asked Anne out on a date,(Sisters can be a pain sometimes),so I asked Anne if she would like to go out."Where?" she asked.
My mind went blank,Where? I did'nt know."Paul Anka is coming to the Empire" our Jess said,"You'd like that ,would'nt you?" said Josie to Anne. Anne nodded silently,my first date,arranged entirely by the elder sisters of both parties.
On the bus home from the Murphys',Jess went through a list of do's and dont's".You have to buy her a box of chocolates,you don't get kissing her face off,you have to buy the cigarettes,you don't let her pay the busfares,you have to buy the drinks or ice cream ,you don't get fresh on the way home."
I don't know what Josie told her kid sister,but that night was endured ,not enjoyed,I was not really able to relax and enjoy the show lest my hands should accidently touch something they should'nt.
I think Anne was just as relieved as I was when it was all over.

My Dad asked me to go out with him one Saturday night,he had never done such a thing before,what was going on?........The tape recorder!
One of his cousins sons was getting married and Dad,and some of his brothers were invited to the reception,Dad thought it would liven things up if I took my machine along;this was in the days before Disco's.
So there I am in the Co op hall in Walton,at the front with my machine plugged in and a great big queue lined up to sing into the mike.They would sing their song and I had to rewind the tape and play it back again,with them saying"Is that Me?" every time!!People loved it,and I got quietly p====d.Nearly everyone I recorded gave me a drink.
Dad and his brothers got palatic and we had to stay at his cousins in Arnot Street,four of us in one bed,nightmare,between the snoring and the big,beery farts there was not much time for sleep.
I used that old tape machine so much that the motor burnt out within a couple of months.The shop replaced it with a little Italian machine,an Elpico Geloso,it was a cracker,I used that everywhere,making up my own radio shows,Kenny Everett ,he had nothing on BeeDee, I was years ahead of him.But mine was a fantasy existence.

At work,Mr Lewis started to let me do a bit of butchering,I was not let loose with a boning knife,I was taught to use a cleaver and small chopper.We had a lot of frozen meat and this had to be butchered in its' frozen state,this meant using the big cleaver,rather like an executioners axe.You needed a good eye and a steady hand to use that .One of you had to hold the frozen carcass whilst the other,usually a senior hand ,swung the cleaver.This was held over their head and swung in a mighty arc so that it cut clear through the carcass in with one good blow.
Joey had been on the beer one Friday night and was cutting some mutton carcasses, with Bernie holding them,he was a little bleary eyed and Bernie was just a little wary of the proceedings.Down came the cleaver,the carcass was neatly sliced,as was Bernies apron,white coat and shirt,miraculously, Bernies skin was unmarked........I think his underpants were though!

Mum and Dad were going on holiday with Betty and Chris;Jess and I were going to be trusted to have the house to ourselves!!
Unfortunately,I did'nt get to enjoy half as much as I could have done..all because of a sheeps head.
I was now allowed to skin sheeps heads and to do this I had to use a pretty lethal , long thin bladed knife,it was so sharp that it sliced easily,parting the skin from the skull,flicking the eyes from the sockets,it took just a few minutes.I was working my way through as sackful of them the Saturday that the family went on holiday,my knife was a blur,Mr Lewis was on holiday and was being relieved by one of the Kearns brothers,the black sheep of the family ,Jack.Mr Lewis would never have let me near a boning knife,but Jack was'nt so fussy,"Get stuck In on them 'eads' lad" he said passing me the knife.
I jumped at the chance,so there I was out in the shop, where all and sundry could see me,applying my skills to those old sheeps heads.I was nearly finished skinning the second one when it skidded off the butchers block.I managed to catch it before it hit the floor,I finished it and was reaching for another one when I felt something squidgy in my shoe.It was my sock,and it was soaked in blood,....mine!
When I caught hold of the head I did it with both hands,but I still had hold of the knife.The blade was so sharp that it had stabbed right through my knee without my realising it.I called John Kearney over and he looked at the cut and went for the medicine box,"You're gonna need a plaster on that Brian"he said as he took out a bottle of iodine.He had rolled up my trouser leg and I could see the hole ,gaping like an open mouth,Mr Kearns came over to have a look just as John was about to pour the iodine into the cut.He slapped Johns hand away from the cut,shouting "You'll bloody kill him with that,e's cut a vein" They put a tourniquet on and despatched me to hospital.It was a Saturday and there was only a sister on duty,she stitched me up and sent me back to work,when Jack Kearns saw me limp in the shop, he told me to get off home and put my feet up.
Come Monday morning,my knee was swollen to twice its' size,Jess had to go to work and so I limped to the hospital.The nurse took the dressing off and called a doctor,the cut was badly infected and I had to take time off work.I had to go and get fresh dressings everyday,which meant walking a hell of a way,people used to call me Chester,after a character in a T.V.western. I was off work for the whole of Mums holiday and never was able to do what teenagers would do in those circumstances.But there was a side benefit,when I got my first weeks sick pay,it was for twice the amount that I was earning.I did'nt tell Mum ,I gave her the usual amount of housekeeping and bought myself a Brownie camera with the extra money.

We had a neighbour who had a sailor for a husband,she was tall ,blonde,good looking and a terrible tease,to me that is.I was fifteen and a bit and exploding with testosterone,and she knew it.She was great friends with my Mum and often came along the landing for a chat.They would spend hours leaning on the balcony talking about this and that,whenever I had to get past them A. would say "I'm gonna 'ave 'im first Jessie",smiling wickedly as she said it,I would limp away,blushing madly.Mum chuckling at A.s joke.
One morning the gas went and Mum asked me to go along to A.s to see if she could give us a shilling for two sixpences.It was only 2 doors away and so I sped off. Our front doors had little glass panels in them so that they let light in and they were rippled so that they blurred the vision, but you could recognise someone through them.I knocked the door,it was 8.00 in the morning,her face peered through the glass and she opened the door..........she was wearing black lace underwear!!!!!!!!! I must have exploded my trousers,she gave a little shriek"Ooooh,I thought you were my feller,Brian " she giggled. I croaked "Ave you got a shilling for 2..............."
"What are you blushing for" Mum asked when I got back with the shilling.
On another occasion ,Mum told me to take a book to A.,she said she had forgotten to give it to her earlier and told her she would send me with it later on,so off I went,book in hand.The door was slightly ajar when I got there,"Anyone there " I cried,"I'm in the bedroom Brian,come in a minute",I went in ,expecting her to be making the bed or something,she was on the bed..............wearing a little pink baby doll nightie,see through!!!! I dropped the book and fled.
She haunted my fevered nights,I used to wake up like a hollow eyed wreck and Mum must have known the effect it was having on me ,she did the laundry!
So there I was ,the owner of a new Brownie,Jess wanted me to take some pin up shots for her boyfriend Graham,he was in the Army,based up in Westmoreland,she wanted him to see what he was missing.
We went over the Ironbridge to take the pictures,it was a week day and there were no kids about ,Jess wore her one piece bathing costume and I took half a reel of film of her.On the way back home,we bumped into A.,she asked what we had been doing and Jess told her that I had just done some pin up pictures for Graham."OOh " she said,"You can take some of me for my Feller" We all went up to our landing and,as I turned to go to our house,she got hold of my arm and said "You come with me while I get changed". Jess just smiled and shook her head bemusedly.I was like a lamb to the slaughter.
She went off to her bedroom to get her bathing costume,and then brought it into the living room,where she proceeded to strip off.I turned to face away from her,"Don't you want to see what I look like?",of course I bloody well did,but she was a married women and her husband and had a reputation as a hard man.I just gulped "Errm,its o.k" After much teasing ,she was ready for the camera and we decided to go down to the green to take the pictures. I left the flat just ahead of her ,and walked...... slapbang into her husband coming up the stairs ,with his seabag on his shoulders.She was standing behind me with her swimsuit on...........................now what conclusion would you draw if you were in his shoes?All I know was that he did'nt hit me ,he hit her instead.We saw her later ,with a black eye and a look on her face like the cat that had stolen the cream,it must have turned him on.

Jack Kearns was at our shop for longer than 2 weeks,I can't remember why, but we soon found out why he was known as the black sheep.Whereas his brothers were churchgoing and courteous,he was rude and uncouth,lazy and bad mannered.Pretty soon the standards started to slip and the shop developed a foul smell,he did'nt care,he let the lads home early and the cleaning went to pot.The older hands tried their best ,but he had stopped having the waste products van call and our collection of scraps started to hum.His coarseness showed one Saturday afternoon when an Encyclopaedia Britannica salesman made the mistake of calling in to see if he could get an appointment (He must have been desparate),Jack made an entertainment out of him,treating him sarcastically,he thought he was being hilarious,but we were just embarassed for the poor guy.Why did he have to walk into the lions den? Jack had hold of one of the volumes,his hands greasy and bloody,"Look at this" he was saying,"It's ****,And you *******s want to charge how much?" The man was visibly distressed and just wanted to leave,Jack made sure he did by thowing the book into the road,where it was run over by a corporation bus.I felt so sorry for that man,but it taught me a lesson,never let yourself be a victim.
Jack left not long after that and the sergeant major returned ,pretty soon the shop was back to normal.
Harry and I,as juniors ,found that we had a lot in common,we liked the same music,saw the same films and were always on the look out for the main chance with girls.
On our afternoons off we would go back to our house,I'd do a bit of lunch and we would listen to my tapes and practise our dancing, I was going to crack this if it killed me,we would take turns at being the girl.
We neither of us were very good ,but we tried.Apart from the school hops,we had'nt been to a proper dance,we were far from ready.
As part of my job,I had to deliver meat to two places everyday,I loved doing it because it got me out of the shop for a couple of hours ,and I used to get a sandwich and a cup of tea when I got there,My first call was to the fire station at Speke Rd,the cook was a nice old Irish lady,who was called Scarlet by the firemen ,because her surname was O'hara.The men used to treat me very well,I was called Butch,for obvious reasons,I forget most of their names,but I remember them as people.They were kind ,funny,and never said a bad word ,Scarlet loved them and called them"her boys".
That first year they invited me to their Christmas Ball,it was to be held in the Co op Hall in Walton Road,there would be a meal and a proper band because this was the City Fire Services annual do!They were paying for my ticket and I would be sitting at their table.I was chuffed.
I can still remember that star spangled night,the glitter balls sparkling ,the ladies looking so pretty in their posh frocks,and the music calling the dancers to the floor.My feet were tapping away as I sat and watched dance after dance,Scotty,one of the older men,got his daughter to get me up for a turn around the floor,I nearly ruined her feet, the amount of times that I stubbed her toes,but she persisted and stayed the course.The next dance was a Paul Jones,this made me a bit more confident and I relaxed to the music.I could dance!!.................or so I thoght.

Ged

11-27-2007, 12:56 PM

Fantastic as ever Brian. One of the best autobiogs i've ever read.

brian daley

11-27-2007, 04:11 PM

So,thinking we could dance,Harry and I decided to go for broke,we were going to go to the Thursday night dance at the Wilson Hall,that was the night they played non stop rock and roll.Harry and I had got ourselves crew cuts,I'd also got myself a royal blue zipper jacket,with white piping on the collar and pockets,Mum bought the shirt.It was the Elvis look we were after.
About that crew cut,Dad was dead against anything that looked "common",he would rail against Teddy boys and rock and roll.He told me if I had any notion of getting drainpipes or drape jackets,I'd better forget it.He failed to mention crew cuts.Harry and I had ours cut in the village during our lunch break,prior to that ,my hair was brylcreemed into a huge wave.When I sat down to tea that night,Mum nearly freaked,"Yer Dad 'll kill yer" she wailed,"All that luvly 'air ,gone",and so on, and so on ,until at length ,Dad arrived home. He came into the living room to get out of his overalls,looking at the t.v., he noticed me,and did a double take,"What the fr****** hell 'ave you done to yer 'ead" he yelled. "It's all the rage Dad " I replied meekly."Rage My arse" he said and that was the end of the matter.

Harry and me had spent all Wednesday afternoon practising our jive,we were going to pull,big time!
We got there about 8.00p.m.,the music was blaring into the street and the place was full of Teds and girls with swirling skirts , pony tails,beehive hairdos and perms.Yowser!! We studied the talent very carefully,who was going to enjoy my terpsichorean skills?Which beehived beauty would just melt in my arms? There she was,in the middle of the floor,right beneath the glitter ball,her mate looked o.k.,and so nodding to Harry, we went out to split them up.Elvis was belting out Blue Suede Shoes as we in our Dunlop crepe soles took them in our arms.We were on our third twirl when she stopped dead,hands on hips ,she looked at me and shouted "OO the f*** said yew could dance?"
I was dumbfounded,standing there with my mouth agape,too shocked to reply,"F*%+ off " she shouted and stormed away.
I crept away from the floor,feeling about 2 inches tall.Harry came over and told me the girl he was with dumped him too.
It was awhile before we went dancing again.

Shortly before Christmas,I was working in the back room at Kearns when one of the girls from Appletons came in,Sid had let her come through ,she had an awful look on her face.I asked her what was up and,with tears in her eyes,she replied,"Marys' dead","Which Mary?"I asked ."Mary Moore,Ronnies wife". I felt dizzy,I could'nt take in what she was saying, I'd only babysat for them a fortnight ago. Holding my hand,she told me that Mary had gone into labour and there had been complications. She died while giving birth to a son.
Sometimes the world can seem such an unfair place,the last time I saw Mary was when I popped in for a cup of tea after I had been to bank the shop takings,only last week.She was wearing a pretty floral smock and looked so full of life, with that bloom that heavily pregnant women get.
The boy had survived and was going to be called Stephen.
I went up to see Ronnie ,the house was closed up,he was'nt at the shop ,I never saw him for months.The boys had gone to his ,or Marys' sisters.
I was sad that I never got the chance to say goodbye.But I've never forgotten her,there is a little corner of my heart in which the memory of Mary still remains.

Christmas was coming and that goose was getting fat,in fact the geese,the turkeys and chickens too ,were getting very fat.....and it was our job to clean them......uugh!
Kearns had an Xmas club and customers could buy shilling, or sixpenny, stamps every week throughout the year to save up for the christmas fowls.
We had hundreds of customers and they wanted all manner of fowl.In those days it was unusual for a family to buy chickens as regularly as they do now.
We sold about half a dozen on a Saturday and very few during the week,customers liked to keep the giblets then,but wanted them prepared.It was job that we avoided if we could,quite simply ,they stank! When you cut through their backside you get a nasty ,methane type pong,and if you burst the spleen..........yuck. But come Yuletide,all of the lads had to come in on the Sunday before christmas eve and spend all day eviscerating those darned birds.And we did'nt get paid,no such thing as overtime then.The men were given 50 cigarettes and the boys a small tin of Quality Street.
We did get tips off the customers for cleaning their birds though,they were pooled for fairness and Sid shared them out on Christmas Eve.

Mick,the body builder,had got himself a steady girlfriend and wanted to get some transport that he could take her out on,yes,on, not in ,this was 1957 not 67,young men could'nt afford cars yet.He was after a BSA 500,second hand of course, and he was ten quid short of the necessary.I had been given £8 in tips and had a few pound languishing in my Appletons wallet.Mick had a Wearwell sports bike,DeRaillier geared,lightweight frame and in showroom condition.I wafted the money under his nose and went home on my very first bike!!!!
She was a beauty and she took me everywhere.The difference it made to my life was fantastic,she was fast light and good looking.
I used to ride to see my relatives, Liverpool shrank in size. Bernie had a bike and we would often go out just for rides

That second delivery I had to do everyday was to an engineering company in Speke Hall Avenue,the cook there was none other than Ikey Harrris' Mum.I had'nt seen him for a couple of years and she put us back in touch.Like me he was a butchers lad,and,also like me,he had Wednesday afternoon off.So I would sometimes ride down there and we would pass the time, either biking or just hanging out.I did'nt drop Harry,he had other mates and you had to spread yourself about a bit.
When I lived in Lodge Lane,one of the treats we had, was going to the Pavilion Theatre,at the beginning of '58 ,Ikey suggested we go to see the Peaches Paige Show,this was a nude show,and ,being a 15 year old male,I thought it might be good.It was an early evening show and ,apart from Ikey and me,there were a load of asthmatic old men and one young woman, who had two little boys with her.I'd never been to a nude show before and never knew what to expect,there were comic turns ,Joe Baker and Jack Douglas,jugglers,acrobats and light opera singers.The nudity consisted of static tableaux where the girls were artistically posed,Peaches being the centre piece of every display.In one piece ,she sang the aria from Madame Butterfly,Iv'e never seen "One Fine Day" performed since without thinking of those massive mammarys'.The show closed with Peaches freewheeling across the stage on a mens drop handled sports bike.........it looked suspisciously like a Wearwell!!!

Before I finish with 1957 ,there is one item I must relate,on Church Road ,there was a little chip shop that we used to go to of a dinnertime,we would get a big bag of chips to have with our chops,(Oh for those cholesterol free days) I think it was run by May Newby,a small ,jolly fat lady,who,loved a naughty joke.She was organising a coach trip to Blackpool and it was going to be for her customers,Mick and I put our names down and pretty soon she had enough to fill a 28 seater.The lights were still on and we would stop off at a half way house to have a few beers.Saturday night arrives and we are waiting for the coach,standing outside the chippy,we hear the clatter and bang of the coach before we see it.We were going to Blackpool in THAT!! "That" was a pre war Bedford,a poor sad looking thing.We climbed aboard and off we went,wheezing and spluttering up to Queens Drive and the East Lancs. I can't remember where the half way stop was,we did'nt get beyond it,the coach dropped dead in the car park and we spent the night in the pub whilst the driver was banging away with his spanners trying to repair the motor.It was way after closing time before the coach was ready to take us home,I had had far too much to drink and was,I was later told ,acting very obnoxiously.To the point of offering to fight the driver!!I can remember them stopping whilst I called for Hughie.I can't remember much after that.Having to walk home from the village helped to clear my head so ,by the time I got home ,I did'nt look or feel so bad.
On Monday,May told me I'd been offering to fight a few of the fellers aboaerd the coach,she said none of them took me on because she had told them I was a master of the martial arts,me,who was built like a beanpole!

I was coming up to sixteen in '58and was determined that I was going to go to sea.On some half days I would go around the shippng offices to see if I could get a place;my cousin Gerry got a place in the Blue Funnel Training School at Aberdovey,I tried,and failed.I went to the Norwegian shipping office a few times,Mike Quirk had got to sea that way,but I had no joy.You had to be 16. Well there was'nt long to go now.

lindylou

11-27-2007, 08:39 PM

enthralling and entertaining stuff as always Brian :handclap:

brian daley

11-27-2007, 09:05 PM

Although I'm only part way through my life,I don't think I will be allowed to carry on much longer.When I get my manhood ,it won't be good for a family website.I led too adventurous a life for it to be fit for all and sundry to look at,even though it was fun for me.Do you have an adults only site?
Just asking,
BrianD

shytalk

11-27-2007, 11:35 PM

Brian,
When you get to that stage why not continue it in the SH site. just about anything goes there. Discuss it with Kev, he might just think it will be OK on here. If not no harm done and I am sure he will appreciate your consideration.:002:

Ged

11-28-2007, 11:12 AM

You can't do this to us Brian, was it 'A', I wanna know what happened with 'A', come on tell us, did you go back when your whatsits dropped and give her what for..............Ha ha.

lindylou

11-28-2007, 11:14 AM

Ged

11-28-2007, 11:17 AM

I assume the Scouse House site - anything goes on the SSC too (Skyscraper city)

lindylou

11-28-2007, 11:19 AM

oh, ok :)

chippie

11-28-2007, 12:52 PM

Hey Brian, don,t stop now I,ve got your stories circulated in the "News of the World" mate, you can,t let me down now!

Keep at it matey.

shytalk

11-28-2007, 01:46 PM

I assume the Scouse House site -

NOOOOOOOOO anywhere but there!
I was reffering to the Sailors Home.

brian daley

11-28-2007, 02:03 PM

It seemed to be a long,cold winter that year and events that happened made it seem even bleaker.
Frank and Veras' little Eden was ruined in a single night when Vera was subjected to an horrific attack on her way home from work.
The cottage they lived in was down a dark ,unlit, cinder path called Brunt Lane.Allerton Cemetery was one side of the lane and the long railway wall was on the other side.It was dark when Vera entered the lane but she knew it well and had done the journey many times.There was an iron railing fence along the whole length of the cemetery and,as Vera made her way home,she saw the black shape of someone amongst the gravestones,walking parallel to her.She walked a little faster,and so did the shadow.Fear gripped her and she started to run,and the shadow ran with her.She reached her gate and had just got on the garden path when she was grabbed and assaulted.The path was too long for her screams to be heard from the house.I cannot begin to imagine the terror that she felt,that once beautiful little cottage had now become the place of nightmares.
The whole family was shattered by the awful event,Vera became withdrawn and suffered badly with her health,Frank was riven with guilt to think that he had brought them to that spot.Within weeks ,they had left for safer parts and I slowly lost touch with them.I have never forgotten that terrible night and every time I read of such attacks,I feel grieved for the women who suffer them remembering the effect it had on Vera.

One foggy February day,we were cleaning out the shop windows when this middle aged man came in ,he looked as though he had seen something terrible.Sid asked him if he was alright and the man shook his head and cried,"They're all dead,killed",his body was wracked by his sobs.We came to him ,thinking there had been a crash........................There had ,in Munich.
The Busby Babes were killed in an airplane crash .I was'nt a football fan but I felt saddened by that catastrophic crash.This was a time when Manchester United ruled the game,Matt Busby was the greatest manager in the world,the team had lost players like Duncan Edwards,Roger Byrne ,Tommy Taylor and David Pegg.Eight died, and Bobby Charlton and Matt Busby both suffered devastating injuries.The sporting rivalries between the clubs took a back seat and fans everywhere went into mourning for the loss to the game.

One of the problems that butchers shops have is that people like to buy pink or red meat.This is not much of a difficulty with frozen meat because the cuts are usually displayed on a refrigerated counter and retain that essential colouring so beloved of the buyer.Fresh meat,however is different,it quickly turns brown when on the counter,we used to call this "erk".The meat is actually better this way for the blood will haved drained away ,rendering the joint more tender.Sadly ,that is not how the customer sees it,and so on a Saturday afternoon ,it was our job to "work the erk"; that is ,convincing the customer that brown was better.There was an old couple who used to come in late every Saturday afternoon,they always liked a nice shoulder of lamb,frozen of course;I had a counter full of brown ,prime welsh lamb.I persuaded the to buy the biggest,brownest joint on the counter,with the promise that if they did'nt like it they could bring it back on Monday and I would refund their money.
The joint cost them 7/6d (37.3p),I was on £1/10s (£1.50p) per week,I spent a bad weekend worrying ,Kearns did'nt do refunds ,if they did'nt like it I would have to pay them myself!
Midday Monday they came in to see me...................they had enjoyed it so much that they asked us to be sure that they could have the same every weekend.So pleased were they that they invited Harry and me to tea on Wednesday,we took them up on their offer and found them to a wonderfully eccentric couple,he played the organ and she sang .We spent a few wintry Wednesday afternoons there.
Sometimes we would pull a few crafty stunts to get rid of unwanted cuts of meat,not that the boss knew about it .Like this for instance,we used to have an American who was a regular customer,he called mincemeat "chipped beef" and would never buy any from the display."You never know what the hell you guys' put in that stuff" he would say.No ,our American friend would get us to slice a nice chunk of rump steak and put it through the mincer.......which was in the back room.I would put a piece of shin beef through the mincer,at least three times......he always came back for more.
That prime bit of beefsteak would,invariably end up in the grille pan for yours trulys lunch.

Lunch breaks seemed to last forever,Harry and I would go to Woolworths, to flirt with the girls,a hopeless endeavour,but we never gave up trying.All the ones we fancied were already taken,and those that were'nt did'nt fancy us.
There was a girl in Hales cake shop though,Anne was her name,I thought she was lovely and could'nt imagine that she would like some one like me.Most days the girls in our shop would ask me to get cakes when I went to the bank.I would stand in the queue, looking moonfaced across the fondant fancies as this little angel smilingly served her customers.One of the older ladies usually served me ,but I only had eyes for Anne.
There was an Anne who worked in Woolies,I was unaware of her existence until her supervisor told me that she liked me to come in everyday,I asked her why and she told me that this Anne fancied me and that everytime I went in she would throw herself into a frenzy of scrubbing and polishing on the counter she worked on."If you came here for longer ,she'd 'ave the 'ole shop gleaming" I was embarassed,life is so unfair,why can't you fancy the right person,and the right person fancy you?
It was about this time that Harry started to have trouble with his teeth.I thoght he was a wimp,he would'nt go to the dentists even thought his back teeth were giving him real gyp.
Bernie was progressing faster than Harry or me,we were scally's ,always out for a laugh and a joke,Bernie seemed about ten years older than we two,even though he was the same age.I liked him though and had some fun times out of work with him,but at work ,he was very serious.
We were working in the back room one day,me making dripping( a very technical job,boiling all the fat and suet,yuckkkk!) Bernie , boning a shoulder of frozen beef.We were talking about this and that,me stirring the fatty lumps and Bernie struggling with the big collar bone.He was pulling the knife along the big bone when his hand slipped,and plunged the knife deep into his stomach.We both went very quiet,Bernie looking at me,shock on his face and the handle of the knife sticking out of his belly.Sid and Joey took him in hand and the ambulance was there within minutes.Bernie was critically ill and was off work for a long time .We went to see him at hospital and he was on sticks for some time after that.
In the meantime,Harry and I were drawn closer ,our friendship deepening,we liked the same things,were always chasing ,but never catching,girls,and had the same sense of humour.But those bloody teeth of his,his mouth was beginning to pong and he was in constant pain.One day he picked something out his mouth,he was looking at it ,it was like a piece of rotting wood."What the hells that ?" I asked," I think it's my backtooth" he replied.
Next day he came to work and his jaw was really swollen,I told him he must have a gumboil or something because it looked very sore and red.He still would'nt go and get it seen to,the smell got so bad that Sid told him he'd better get something done about because the girls were complaining that it made them feel sick.
He did'nt come to work next morning,his mother turned up about mid morning,her face a picture of sadness and distress,she came to me in the back room,for mine was the only face that she knew."E's in 'ospital Brian lad,Arry's in 'ospital,'is jawbone cum right through 'is skin"She broke down crying and we took her upstairs where the girls made her a cup of tea.She told us that they were operating on him that day,it was'nt a gumboil ,it was cancer.Even now ,50 years later I can still feel the shock of those words.
Harry ,the most handsome lad I knew, was being eaten away by cancer.
He was in the Southern Hospital and I went to see him right after the operation,his Mum and family were there and she asked me if I wouild go with her to see the doctor,he wanted a word with me because I was his best mate.
He explained that they had had to remove one side of his jaw,but was confident that they had removed all of the cancer.When they were sure that everything was o.k. they would fit a plastic replacement and he would be as good as new,just a small scar along the jawline.The doctor wanted me to tell
Harry,"he would trust you more than us old fogeys" was how he put it.
I was ushered into Harrys room ,he looked bizarre,one side of his face was sunken right in,his mouth was filled with a set of stainless steel teeth and half of his lips were sewn together.I tried not to look horrified,I don't know how I got through those first moments,But Harry,oh Harry,he was great.When I had finished telling him what the doctors had in store for him,he was so enthusiastic.He did'nt feel sorry for himself,he had not a shred of self pity.He could'nt wait to get out of there and get the next 12 months over with so that he could get his face back.I went to see him every week,the people in the shop sometimes gave me cigarettes to take him,but he was quite happy just to have chat.
I had Wednesday afternoons to myself now,no Harry or Bernie to hang out with.
I succeeded in getting a date with one of the Woolworths girls though.It was Mick who asked her for me,her name was Eileen and she was beautiful.We went to the Lyceum,had a love seat and kissed the faces off each other.I kissed her all the way home,but never attempted anything further than that.Jeez,she dumped me!She thought I was ....slow.
One Friday night I came home from the flicks and my Mum let me in with the words "Theres a big surprise for you in the living room" I looked in and did'nt see anything,the door swung open and behind it stood Harry.I was ecstatic,he was still half jawed, but he was out,he came back to work,but Sid kept him out of sight in the backroom.Harry did'nt care,he never liked working on the counter anyway.
We picked up our old routine,no dancing this time,but we still went out,mostly the movies but occasionally for the odd,illlicit pint.
Harry was quite comfortable with his appearance,it would come as shock to those who had'nt seen him before,but most of the girls in the village were never bothered by how he looked,in fact one night we pulled a couple of crackers at the Empire.I really loved the way the girl who sat with Harry ,treated him no differently from any other guy,she cuddled him and made him feel good..
I think of him often now,unbeatable,never once complaining,and always looking to the future.

It was coming near to my sixteenth birthday when Mum told me she was going to get me something special this year,a tailor made suit! Mr Duggan,my dads tailor was coming to measure me up ,and I could pick my own material.
It took about six weeks to make,I had three fittings and it was tailored to perfection..It was done in a dark blue with a red birds eye that seemed to change colour when you moved.I felt like the Duke of Bootle,all I needed was a Duchess..

Ged

11-28-2007, 04:19 PM

NOOOOOOOOO anywhere but there!
I was reffering to the Sailors Home.

WHAT!!

You can talk about 'hows your father' and 'one, two, buckle my shoe' on the old sailors home board ???

lindylou

11-28-2007, 04:38 PM

More intriguing tales from Brian.

OMG ! I could see it all in my minds eye - the accident with the blade :shock:

- and poor Harry - I'm very glad no one treated him any differently, and I'm glad he got a kiss and a cuddle :) :)

brian daley

11-30-2007, 02:52 PM

AS I sit and write these few words,I wish I could change the course of events as easily as one creates a story.......but this is not a story, it is a tale of lives ,and loves,that I played an acting role in all those years ago.
We are now at the summer of 1958,me and my new suit are getting as many outings as possible.I dont do much dancing now,Harry was conscious of the effect his appearance would cause in a dance hall,so it was mostly the movies for us two. I did go the Winter Gardens on my own one Saturday night ,a new rock and roll group were on,this was before the Beatles,but this group were going to be famous,or so it was said.They were so good that I can'y recall a thing they played ,or even what they were called.I only remember them for what happened that night.
The Teddy Boy fashion was still booming,most of my old classmates from Garston were at this dance,with their D.A.'s , full drapes and drainpipes,they looked a very colourful bunch and their girl friends looked great in their swirling skirts, and those wonderful suspenders that were flashed as they did a twirl.The band were tooled up with the latest in electric guitars and had a fabulous drum kit.The lead guitarist thought he was gods gift to women,he stood there ,on stage,ogling and winking at all the girls. Joey Fergo was there with his girl and I could see he was getting cheesed off with the guitar player.The interval came and the guitarist went to the toilet,followed by Joey.
When the band resumed their places on stage,the guitarist was standing there with a big black eye.He played the rest of the session with his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

During the summer I made renewed efforts to get myself to sea,Wednesdays would find me making my way round to the Pool and the Norwegian shipping office,and then, Bingo!! One Wednesday, Mr Brown in the Shipping Federation gave me application form to take home and get filled in.
Mum said that Dad would never agree to my going away,I tackled him,I could not see why he would not let me go..He said I was too soft,all of his seagoing relatives were hard men,they had to be he said."You wont last 5 minutes on one of them boats,you'll be coming home crying to your mother,forget it lad",and so on and so on.I persuaded my Mum to forge his signature and sent the papers off.I was so excited ,I could'nt wait to tell everybody.My boss ,Sid, tried to persuade me not to go,the big boss, Mr Kearns came to the shop and gave me a little talk on how I would be so much better off stopping where I was and what a great future there was in butchering.I was deaf to it all,until,until........I told the girls in the cake shop that I was off to sea and little Annes face changed so much ,she was brushing away a tear!!
The managress told me to stop messing about,Anne had been waiting for me to ask her out!!!!!!!!! I was astounded,the girl of my dreams actually liked me.We only had time for a couple of dates before I went off to the training school.We were innocent and our relationship was boy and girl,I would'nt have dreamed about doing anything of a carnal nature to Anne,she was sweetness personified.Apart from Harry,those few short weeks with Anne were happy ones.
I felt really guilty about leaving Harry,still do after all these years,telling him was very hard,he never questioned my decision,but the look on his face told me it all,what did the future hold for him?
For the moment ,I was greatly preoccupied in getting my kit together for the sea school ,I had to go to a place called Sharpness.There I would be trained in the art of seamanship at the Sea Training School,Vindicatrix.
By now Dad was reconciled to my going off and started to tell me of some of the things that happened to him during his time in the army.
As the time drew nearer for my departure, I went up to see if I could make contact with Ronnie Moore before I left,it had been ages since I had seen him and I was curious to know how he was .Well,life for him was on the up,he'd met a very nice woman,also called Mary,she loved his boys and was going to marry Ronnie so that she could bring them up as here own.She was as different from the other Mary as snow White was from Rose Red.Dark and earthy with a very placid nature,I became their babysitter once more until it was time to go to the sea school.

Those last few weeks at home passed by in a blur,I was in a state of waiting and wondering,what will the training school be like?Will it be full of of hard knocks and no goods?The only people I could ask where away at sea,and they were'nt great fighting men ,best not to take any notice of Dads scare stories.
The week before I went away,Harry got taken into hospital,I went to see him after the operation,they had removed the rest of his jawbone.
He was sitting up in bed when I walked in,his head slumped forward on to his chest,he looked up and smiled,there was only half a face but he was smiling.
He could talk,albeit with great difficulty,and he told me that they had removed the rest of his jaw so that they could fit a complete new one.
He was indomitable,a lesser man would have been self pitying,not Harry,he could'nt wait to have his new face ,he would be off chasing those girls again.
When I got to work I told the staff of how things were,but they were not as concerned as I had been.I went to Woolworths and one of the Supervisors asked me where Harry was ,when I told her she asked for details and I thought she would send him a card. How wrong I was.

When A. found out I was going,she said I could find out all I wanted to know about women from her.Mum chased her off with a mop,laughing as she called her a dirty cow , another night of tossing and turning,literally!
That last day,I got a few little gifts and a lot of kisses from the ladies at the shop. On my last trip to the bank,I gave the girls in the cake shop a wave as I passed by ,I heard my name called behind me as I was heading for our shop,I turned,it was Anne,she kissed me and gave me a little present,"Don't forget me,please write",she turned and ran back to her shop.There was a little keepsake wrapped in a piece of paper that bore her address.

Monday morning found me in Central station,meeting up with some other boys to catch the train that was to take me to the beginning of another life.
30th november 2007
Brian Daley

brian daley

03-09-2008, 01:49 PM

So , there I was ,standing beneath the clock in Central Station, the sun was shafting through the glass skylights ,the smoke and steam from the waiting engines swirling upwards to the roof. I saw Mr Brown from the Pool standing with two other lads , they looked in my direction as I walked toward them. We three were bound for the National Sea Training School at Sharpness in Gloucestershire ,and Mr Brown was there to see us off.
Leaving home had not been easy , the longest I’d ever been away since reaching adolescence was a week, and that was with the school at the Isle of Man. This time it was different , I was going away for three months, and then going away for who knows how long?
Travelling to town on the Crosville to catch the train , I looked at everything as though for the last time .All those years of wanderlust were now about to become a reality . Aigburth Road looked trim and green in the autumn sun , soon we were down into town and at the station ,the sadness of leaving the family behind me ,the excitement of a new life ahead before me.
Mr. Brown, introduced me to the other boys, George and Alan ; they were roughly the same age as me and were from the same kind of background.
Our train was at the platform getting up steam and we were soon aboard and in our compartment as the engine shuddered into life .The whistle screamed ,great clouds of steam enveloped Mr Brown as he waved us goodbye from the platform and we were off.
Alan and I had both volunteered to go for a sea career , George was there at the behest of some official or other. He was a very likable young man, he suffered with the same kind of problem that my Granddad had, he was troubled with a speech impediment. Certain words caused his tongue to get stuck and he struggled to get them out . He was’nt at all embarrassed by his “problem”, if anything ,he was angry with it and asked us both to bear with him if we saw him get stuck. I could not but admire him , he was a gutsy fellow.
By the time we reached Gloucestershire we had each of learned a little of each others lives ,Alan and I were from similar backgrounds, George had had it tougher than both of us and he was determined that he was going to master that impediment before we came back!
When we changed trains at Gloucester a crowd of other lads got aboard, they were from the West Country and Wales , our small party was now a very big party.
We arrived in Sharpness in the late afternoon, the sun was still up and we could see that it was a bit different from Liverpool ! I fully expected Will Hay to appear on the platform, it was just like the station in “Oh , Mr Porter “ Standing at one end of the platform was a man in full merchant navy officers uniform ,he had a big beefy face with a nose like an old fashioned doorknocker ,with him were some lads our age ,in full battle dress uniforms.
They were in dark blue outfits and had crossed anchors in red on the sleeves , shiny black boots and white puttees. “Crikey “ I thought ,”It’s the bloody navy!”
We piled out of the carriages in a heap and the officer stood ramrod straight watching this untidy melee. “Right Lads !” he barked,” form yourselves up into columns and we will march up to the camp !” There was a great deal of shuffling and , with the assistance of the uniformed boys ,we formed some sort of order and proceeded up to the sea school.
We could see the docks and the river , it was the Severn , everything seemed very orderly on the route to the school. It seemed like an army camp , as we approached we could see a boy on sentry duty at the gate. When we were inside the camp we were met by more uniformed lads and one of them, who we found out later was the Senior Bosun , approached us and got us to line up ready for induction. That boy was so smart we thought that he must have been there for years. He had red lanyards and a kind of red scarf, crossed anchors , boots that shone like polished glass and gleaming white puttees. You could have sliced bread with the creases in his uniform so sharp they looked. We three looked at each other and wondered , was this what we were expected to look like.?
Little and by degree we were all enrolled , all save one that is ,just as the officer, Mr Wright was finalising our paperwork, a large black Daimler limousine braked gently to a halt outside the gatehouse. Mr. Wright looked out on the scene and started to shake his head in disbelief ,we turned to follow his gaze and saw the cause for his dismay. A young blonde , curly headed lad was getting out of the car, he was accompanied by a very aristocratic looking lady and an army officer, he was covered in ribbons and his hat was laden down with scrambled eggs.
He was a Brigadier. Oh , that poor lad ,what a start for him , he immediately became a “target”, but more of him later.
We were divided up into our categories after all the paperwork was done , the catering boys to one side and the deck boys to another. Fortunately ,we three were put in the same hut ,ther were about twenty or so of us in there ,all new , and all from different parts of the country .
There were two rows of double bunk beds and just inside the door was the officers cabin,the officer in charge of our hut was Mr Scott ,or Scotty as we came to know him.
After grabbing what bunks we could it was off to the Vindicatrix itself for our evening meal.
The “Vindi” as she was more familiarly known was an old sailing ship that had been built many ,many years before, she had had an illustrious career ,having served under the German and British flags as she sailed upon the oceans of the world ,and here she was now,moored alongside the quay on the Sharpness canal .
As we newborn babes made our way to the gangway we were very much aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes that viewed us……..hungrily, as prey!
“New Boyyyyy” the low cry went up , following us along the quay and up the gangway ,”Neww Boyyy” we looked at each other, “You’re never goin’ ‘ome !”
We huddled like lambs to the slaughter, beset on all sides by the unseen callers of our doom.
The mess deck was ahead of us now and we saw some boys in blue candy striped blousons , our waiters! They waved us to our places in this cavernous room. There were ranks of tables filling the space ,enough for a couple of hundred boys ,for now there were just us new boys.
Two lads came to our table ,they looked like something out of Dickens; “It’s sea pie for tea new boys , you can ‘ave a second portion for a fag “ It was the Artful Dodger and Smike.
We were loaded ,we had our packets of Woodbines and Players Weights ,we gave them some cigarettes anyway,we did’nt want their dinners for them. We had a lot to learn………
Dinner was served ,Sea Pie ,none of us had ever seen anything like it ,we could’nt begin to guess what was in it , it was pushed around the plates ,lifted up on forks and inspected,poked and prodded ,but I think that I was the only one to empty my plate . There a bit of a commotion as one the deck lads who had been working near the galley ,rushed in and gobbled up as much of the uneaten food as he could manage. Hmmmmm, we were beginning our education.
Before we were sent back to our huts to unpack we had to go to the quarterdeck to be given a little chat by the assistant Captain ,Mr Poore. Whilst awaiting his entrance ,we were told to squat around the bulkheads (walls) and make ourselves as comfortable as possible. There were a lot of us and we staring to make conversations when some of the boys who were due to leave came amongst us. These were the guys who had been barracking us ,one of them ,a huge lad from the Scotland Road area of Liverpool loomed menacingly over us .”Got any smokes New Boy ?” he would demand. Boy after boy sheepishly proferred their packets to him.
He had a mean ,wolfish look about him and was clearly the cock’o the walk. Suddenly he was standing above me , I tried to make myself invisible , there was no way I could take him on “Where was that bloody Captain?” “ where are you from New Boy ? “ he asked ,thrusting his face into mine. I looked away. “I asked you where you’re from New Boy ! Answer!” he demanded . “Garston “ I croaked . “I’m going to have to teach this new boy some manners “ he growled . My stomach turned to liquid,well ,my Dad had warned me that I would’nt last 5 minutes and it looked like he was going to be proved right . “On your feet new boy “ he shouted, as I was about to offer myself to his beating ,a soft West Country voiced said “ Woy don’ yew pick on sumwun yore own soize boyo ?” My head swivelled round .as did everyone elses , to see a stocky little youth ,one of the new boys ,standing there ,arms akimbo, cool as you like . “ Oo are yew pickin foights wi kiddies ? Like to troy sum wi’ me Borr ?” The Bully slid away and we were not bothered again. Not for three years ,but we’ll come to that later.
I wish I could remember my , our , saviours name , he was a very plucky West Countryman ,the same type who man lifeboats and look fear in the face without flinching.
That night in our hut there was much debate about whether this was the life for us , I was staying no matter what , there was no way I was going back to Liverpool now.
It was strange spending that first night in the hut ,the bunks were steel framed with wire springs and had flock mattresses . We were issued with blue sheets and a couple of blankets and pillows ,you never heard such whinging , “Not like me bed at ‘ome “,” Sheet’s are rough” “ Not enough Blankets!” and so on ,and so on .For me ,it was an improvement !!
I fell asleep dreaming of tomorrow.

kevin

03-09-2008, 02:43 PM

Brian,
Only just found this thread - but read it beginning to end. What a powerful memory you have - you're about 8 years older than me but a **** sight sharper mentally.

Lots of chords struck for me.
When we moved from Speke in 1961 we moved to Allerton, just by Gilmour school you went to. I went to Blessed John Almonds and many of my classmates came from the tennies you lived in.
Also have memories of Stanley Park as my uncle lived right by it and we used to visit.

Alexandra Rd in Llandudno stikes yet another chord as my wife stayed there on holiday pretty much throughout her childhood.

Also joined the Merchant Navy and also ended up in the midlands - near Wolverhampton.

Keep 'em coming!

Kevin

brian daley

03-09-2008, 09:43 PM

Wow,got a bit of a gremlin in the works there folks,how it happened ..I don't know,but it has multiplied itself by the power of 20. Can it be fixed ? I really must apologise for the snafu. Let's hope the next one goes on wiyhout any hitches,
BrianD

brian daley

03-09-2008, 09:50 PM

I seem to be going haywire tonight ,I have'nt had a drink even,but I just posted an apology for fouling things up with my posting and fouled that up
as well. I'm getting too old for this;by the way Kevin,thanks for your kind words ,who knows our paths might have crossed when you were a kid . You'll have to post some of your sea stories , they're always welcome,
Cheers ,
BrianD

shytalk

03-09-2008, 11:01 PM

BrianDaley, Click 'edit' and delete the extra posts then click 'save changes'.:PDT_Aliboronz_24:

brian daley

03-10-2008, 10:27 AM

Shy, Lindy and Co.
Thanks for your help ,as you can see ,I got it sorted!!
Ciao,
BrianD

ChrisGeorge

03-10-2008, 10:41 AM

Hello Brian

Glad you got it fixed. We always welcome your interesting and entertaining reminiscences. Good work, Brian.

Chris

chippie

03-10-2008, 05:00 PM

you put me to shame Brian with your story while I,ve been too busy finding new family. I must make a conscious effort to finish my work. Great stuff Brian, cheers

John(Zappa)

03-10-2008, 05:46 PM

Hello Brian

Glad you got it fixed. We always welcome your interesting and entertaining reminiscences. Good work, Brian.

Chris

I will second that.Good stuff:handclap:

brian daley

03-11-2008, 06:36 PM

I was free at last , there in that blue tropic sea ,down in the turquoise ocean with only the fish for company; shafts of sunlight shimmered down from above as I swam toward that shadowy shape in the distance..was it her ? As I swam nearer I could see her naked form ,graceful as a dolphin , she came my way.God but she was beautiful,and soon I would know her ,as a man should..
Then suddenly my world was shattered by the rasping sound of a bugle What the f!... "Come along now ,'ands off c###s and put on yer socks !!" Where the hell was I? Raising my head from my pillow ,I saw the other boys looking as shocked as I was
This was Reveille and I was bone dry and still a virgin.
Scotty was ranging up and down the hut ,rattling the bed frames with a stick, "Come on you layabouts , it's time for a little exercise!". My god ,was the man mad ,it was still the middle of the night and he was expecting us to get out and do P.E.!!
With a coughing and a spluttering ,the cream of British youth emerged from their slumbers and ,exchanging pyjamas for shorts and a vest ,were led out on to the parade ground where we beheld the sight of white scrawny forms about to undergo the same trial as us.
After what seemed an age ,we were led to have our morning wash , in cold ,very cold, water in the smallest sinks I had ever had to use . They were wedge shaped units made out of bare galvanised steel. No porcelain here boy. Those little sinks were for both us and our laundry. Time would tell of the effects it had on our hygiene.
When we got back to our hut to get changed for breakfast ,we noticed that we were three boys short. They had decamped during the night ,this was'nt the picnic they thought it would be . Once dressed we were led down to the Vindi for breakfast ,after which we would be given a medical examination and then issued with our uniforms.
We did'nt have to run a gauntlet of staring eyes today, everybody was intent on being fed.
The queue of boys stretched along the quay and up the gangway but it was moving pretty fast ,we were hungry now,it's amazing what a bit of exercise and a cold water wash can do for a boys appetite.
We reached the serving hatch at last and were given soup plates upon which the cook dolloped a ladle full of burgoo ,this was a form of porridge ,quite unlike what mother made,
I think Polyfilla must have got their recipe from this cook ,it stuck to your ribs and needed plenty of sugar too. Let me tell you about the cook , he looked like he was an escapee from Broadmoor , maybe 6 foot 2 inches tall ,25 stone ,lips like a rubber liferaft from which there always hung a cigarette ,the ash from which would drop off into whatever food lay beneath it,seasoning he called it. After the burgoo ,there was a cup of tea and then it was off for the medical.
The medico was a lady, she was called Codeine Annie ,I can't remember her proper name ,but I'll never forget her . She was not like my lady of the water ,no ,she was about 5 foot nothing ,very round , her hair looked as though it had just had 50,000 volts shot through it, and she wore glasses with very thick lens. We had to strip off and get the full monty of an exam , cough, bend ,say aah. And then we were weighed . She promised us that we would all put on weight during our time there, "Your diet has been has been expertly designed to ensure that you will be healthy ". Which meant that we would'nt be getting much !!
As we were taken from place to place ,we gradually learned more about what would be our home for the next few months. The camp itself, was built upon high ground above the canal, it was situated between the docks and the canal with railway running between the river frontage and the village. The town of Berkeley was close enough to walk to and across the River Severn was Lydney ,this was connected to our side by a many spanned railway bridge. The camps hut were brick built ,with corrugated roofs ,finished in whitewash ,they looked very neat and tidy. To reach the canal we had to negotiate a series of steps and then cross the lock gates to get aboard the Vindi . It was a pleasant looking place,this was before the days of leisure craft ,then it was a working canal but the main traffic was us trainees.
There were some very nice boats for us to train on , there was a pinnace that had belonged to King George the 5th ,a whaler ,a motor launch and a couple of lifeboats.
The Vindicatrix loomed large in that small canal and ,as painting would be a part of the skills needed by a sailor ,she was kept in pristine condition at all times. I was baffled by all the ropes and wires that festooned her masts ,but that was what I was here to learn about.
After the medical ,it was off to the stores for our kit .We had to pay for everything and what we got would stand us in good stead for our first few months at sea ,and longer.
The battle dress and trousers, blue shirts 2 off, beret with silver badge ,fishermans top ,2 pairs of dungarees,a black tie,sea jersey ,sou'wester , oilskins and sea boots. Fully laden ,we returned to our hut to become civvies no longer ,but Vindi Boys .

John(Zappa)

03-11-2008, 08:47 PM

Burgoo sounds like it says!!
Codeine Annie gave me an image of a fat "bride of frankenstine".It made me laugh.
Anyway brill story..keep it going.:handclap:

brian daley

03-12-2008, 12:22 AM

We were a right motley crew in that hut, there were Scousers,Mancs , Devon Boys, a local lad
from Lydney , a kiddie from Somerset and one from Cornwall,there was a Geordie ,he had an accent so strong that we took a while to grasp what he was saying ,there a Lad from Rochester too. Together ,we comprised the survivors, 2 more boys had slipped away after evening meal.
We represented the different classes that made up most of British society. One of the Devon Lads was really top drawer ,not aristocracy ,but from the upper middle class. He wore clothes that fitted him perfectly , Tattersal check shirts ,with a cravat and waistcoat ,topped with a classy blazer,he looked like he had walked in from a drawing room drama. . A lovely guy though, self deprecating and not all snobbish. Harry the ,Geordie was from the other end of the scale,from a mining village near Hartlepool ,he had Viking good looks and a perpetual laugh upon his lips .
Colin from over the bridge in Lydney , he had a shock of golden brown hair and an accent that had a soft Gloucestershire burr. He could see where he lived ,but he was a Vindi Boy now and there was no going home at night for him. Frank was from Manchester ,a quietly funny guy ,not pushy ,nor
sarcastic ,you could'nt help liking him , there was Dickie ,the kid from Rochester ,he was the closest to me in age and appearance ,but he came from a more affluent background than me, there was George and Alan too, but you have already met them. Of the rest of our hut,time and distance has
erased them from my memory. So, the task before us now was to get our uniforms in order.
We were expected to look like the boys who had met us at the gate ,but the outfits we had been given looked shapeless and were a bit ill fitting. Some of the older trainees came and gave us a few tips on how to smarten the uniforms up. The first thing was to swap sizes with kids who clothes were either too large or too small.We muddled through that and then we learn how to press the outfit and get those razor sharp creases , the secret was to run soap along the inside of the sleeves and backs down the inside of the trouser legs. When you applied a wet handkerchief over the intended area ,the application of a hot iron flattened the nap and produced very sharp ,creases.
Getting the beret to sit at the right angle was the next task ,badge over the right eye put a dimple just above the badge and then pulling it down to the left at a jaunty angle..Yes !! that was the business.
The boots took a little longer ,they were army issue and had a surface like a pebble dashed wall,
We had to bone them , this was done with the back of a tablespoon handle, .you had to exert maximum pressure and plenty of polish ,plus gobfuls of spit . It was hard labour ,but,as the week passed by those toecaps started to look like polished glass..That was'nt the only entertainment we had though . The camp had a sports hall and a big recreation room ,in which there was the biggest television that I had ever seen ,remember ,this was 1958 ,two channels only ,and both of those in black and white . But that t.v. ,it had a 36 inch screen ,enormous in them days ,and it allowed people at the back of the room to watch the programmes too. Not that there was anything you would want to see,outside of Oh Boy and Cool for Cats it was a bit of a waste of time when there was so much else going on. The music that filled our lives at that was made by Buddy Holly,Elvis ,
Connie Francis ,the Everleys,there was also Tommy Steele,Marty Wilde and a raucous newcomer with a mean streak ,bad attitude and the essence of teenage cool it was ,and I kid you not,Cliff Richard !! When he burst on to the screen singing "Move It" he had a snarling aggression that marked him out from all the rest of the British rockers ,you should have seen us Vindi Boys that Saturday night when he came on Oh Boy,we could'nt believe he was a Brit.
He took hold of that mike and snarled his song as his group laid down a beat that had us kids up and boppin ,hobnailed boots and all. Did'nt last long that eh? But that is getting ahead of meself.
We had to start learning some seamanship soon.

brian daley

03-13-2008, 09:50 PM

We were limited to the camp until we had passed our life boat examination ,it was a bit like being in jail ,no girls ,no women at all, only Codeine Annie ,and we only got to see her for checkups or illnesses. There was a girl who we sometimes saw in the distance, June ,the girl who worked on the pig farm. She was a big raw boned girl,you can weave fantasies about anything if you try, and June became the subject of some of the boys fevered imaginings. But we had to do some work on our seamanship before we were let loose on the world . Our Lifeboat instructor was Joe Moses ,a big burly man who had been a Vindi boy himself in the war years, although he was a hardened old salt ,(I bet he was only in his late thirties ) he was very human, perhaps he remembered the time he was there. Some of the happiest memories I have are those of the times spent in the lifeboat ,learning to man the oars ,not the easiest of tasks ,and learning how to luff and tack in a head wind .This was no ordinary school,we were training for real life .Joe's tales of war at sea and the stories of men who were forced to spend days adrift in the boats after enemy action made the lessons more dramatic.
As we mastered our rowing skills we were pitted against other boys and had races on the canal , it was hard not to enjoy lessons like those. Also on our seamanship course , we had to learn our bends and hitches ,knots to you !
Our instructor for this was a Mister Darke ,Popeye, this man must have smoked for England because he looked consumptive ,but he was good. He would commence his introduction to the art of knottery by picking up a piece of rope and saying "This is one end of the rope" turning to the other end he would say "and this is the other end" Then holding it by the middle he would say ,"And the middle bit is called the Bight!"
With a flurry of fingers he would then produce a fantastical knot , like a Turks head or a Matthew Walker, and then he began the task of teaching us how to do a clove hitch ,half hitch ,bowline ,bowline on the bight ,with an explanation for each one. Our spare time ,both night and day ,was spent tying and untying all of the knots that he had so patiently shown us during the day. Between Joe and Popeye ,we lads safely passed our lifeboat examination .It was now time to unleash the boys and let them loose on Sharpness. Not that there were many places to go , let alone have money to spend .
We were not paid for our time at the training school , we did ,in fact have to provide our own spending money by depositing our money from home with the pursers office when we arrived. This was doled out to us on a Saturday if my memory serves me correctly. 15 bob a week ,Woodbines were 1/6d for ten ,and we could'nt buy any beer,there was no immediately local place of entertainment ( there was a cinema in Berekeley but I cannot remember going there . There was a Flying Angel down by the docks and they had a snooker table and table tennis,a good t.v.system ,giant screen like the one in camp,a very friendly Padre, who had 2 beautiful daughters.
Mr .George was his name and most boys, even the non religious boys,
liked him. A pipe smoker,he was always very laid back and not an evangelising sky pilot. That and the pies and cakes he served won many a boy over.
Thus a pattern for our days emerged , lectures and practical work of a daytime ,interspersed with culinary abominations served up by the kitchen, at days end it was a cold swill and then off up the Burma Rd. for a game of snooker/draughts/ scrabble at the Flying Kipper and the chance of a chat with Mr Georges beautiful daughters.
Being autumn ,night had well and truly fallen by the time we had to go back to camp,on our way down the road we would give full throat to our Vindi songs,"We are the Vindi Boys,Vindi Boys are we, We love the Captains daughter.............."

And ,after three or four songs we were back at the gates of the camp,voices lowered to a whisper ,avoiding the chance of being charged with unruly behaviour and being given Jankers ! It was then down to the Vindi to get a mug of cocoa for supper (it was rumoured to contain bromide to reduce our libidos ,if it did ,it never worked )
After our cocoa ,we made our way back to our huts ,it was getting to be like home now,but without the usual comforts . Lights out and then crash, but we were adolescent boys ,full of testosterone ,about 5 minutes after we were plunged into darkness the rattle of bedsprings could be heard as the overture to the Onanistic chorus began . Bromide in the cocoa ?Some hope. No sooner was I asleep than my lady of the blue waters made her nightly appearance ,her naked form taunting my fevered,virginal mind . Swimming and Sh****ng,two things that I had never done ,and the way things were going ,it seemed I never would. All the other boys in our hut
claimed to have had more experience than Casanova and Don Juan put together ,I kept my mouth shut when it came to talking about doing "it",I did'nt know how to!!
Ohh, my sleep filled my nights with thoughts of lost opportunities. I used to wake up wrecked!!
Letters from home kept our feet on the ground ,Mum used to keep me supplied with news of what was happening in the family, occasionally she would give me an update on Harry ,he was still in hospital and had'nt made any progress . I felt guilty about how little time I spent thinking about him ,I was so taken up with my new world that I had little time for anything else. But guilt will always catch you out ,unexpectedly so!!
Right now though we had to learn about splicing ,rigging .boxing the compass and a myriad other seamanship skills, that , and keeping out of trouble ,occupied most of our working day.

brian daley

03-14-2008, 09:27 PM

Being a young man ,in the midst of adolescence ,short of money ,and only other like young men for company, we found life dominated by the two F's food and fags .
There was never enough of either ,our 15 bob a week did'nt stretch to luxuries ,like a 20 pack of cigarettes ,and our “diet “ meant we were always on short rations.
A typical Sunday meal menu would be ,egg and bacon for breakfast ,a pea sized egg accompanied by what looked like a crack in the plate , your bacon. Lunch ,or dinner as it used to be known as ,would consist of some meat of unknown provenance ,with watery mashed potatoes and soggy greens. Some kind of steamed pudding ,coated with what passed for custard sat limply in the bowl. But Sunday tea was a revelation ,we were given three slices of bread ,two of them smeared with imitation margarine ,in which lay two slices of chopped wood, flavoured with a hammy essence, the third slice had marge on with a thin coating of imitation jam . We usually went down to the Flying Angel after tea for a glass of pop and a sticky bun . As for the fags ,non smokers would buy them and used to barter them for a dinner or pudding ,we smokers formed little groups in which we would share a ciggie ,using a pin on the stump so as not to burn our fingers. The stubs were never thrown away , but were saved up and recycled ,with the use of Rizla papers , one packet would be made to go an extra 25% further . You never saw a dog end laying on the ground !! The camp was always
spick and span ,and if there any dog ends laying about they would have been harvested by the lads on Jankers ,for it was their job to sweep the pathways .
There was one bright spot on the food front ,but you had to work for it ,and you had to work as a team for it. This was a beautiful iced cake. An old fashioned, fruit stuffed , ,moist concoction that was a testament to the bakers art ,the icing was rich and soft , coating a layer of almond rich marzipan paste that covered the whole of the cake.
This wonderous thing was big enough to give each boy in one hut a large and juicy slice . The catch was that it had to be won ,and it was won by the hut that was kept in the best condition , the floors had to gleam, the beds had to squared off in military fashion ,your lockers clean and tidy and not a speck of dust was allowed…anywhere!
We lads had a boy who was made bosun of the hut ,it was his job to see that we did as we were told ,we took our boots off on entering the hut ,we practised making our beds until we were perfect and we kept that floor clean by making coverings for our shoes out of old blankets so that we buffed the floor as we walked around . The judging took place on a Saturday morning when the the schools Captain , Mr. Duguid and some of the Officers inspected every hut ,rigorously, lifting mattresses ,wiping their hands under shelves , on top of lockers , Everywhere in fact. After Saturday breakfast ,and just before inspection ,we would hare back to our hut and give it a final buffing. To give the floor that extra special shine we would put one of the lads in a blanket ,shape it like a hammock and haul him around the floor. It did the trick ,our hut won that cake two weeks in a row, and then some spy discovered our secret.
For a camp that had so many young men there was hardly any aggro, for the very good reason that if you bore someone a grudge ,or had subjected someone to a bit of bullying ,the officers always seemed to find out about it ,and when they did the parties involved were stuck in the ring on a Monday night and made to fight each other by the Queensbury Rules . As kids we had done that at Tiber Street , and here it was proving to be an aid to good order. Most of the boys would crowd into the sports hall to watch the bouts and officers and masters of ships in the docks quite often turned up on fight night . It did affect your behaviour, I can remember having a silly argument in the toilets with a cockney lad . We were debating the relative merits of our home towns ,a high flown discussion along the lines of " All Scousers are ******s"
" You Cockneys are a bunch of bleedin tossers" ,the stuff that parliamentary debates are made of. We moved around each other like snarling dogs ,fists knotted ,teeth bared tongue forming the next insult ,when from out of nowhere the sportsmaster appeared.
"Right you lads ,in the ring Monday ,O.K.!"
It was the Cockney who spoke first ,"We wuz only avin a laff sir ,wozzin we Scouse ?" My head nearly nodded itself off my shoulders , he was as big a coward as I was !! The sportsmaster looked at us suspiciously , we joshed each other and I said that we had been having the other boys on . It worked ,I never had to get in that ring ,
I'd seen George in there one Monday night , he was having a hard time of it and we were shouting advice from the stalls. He came over to the ropes and was struggling to tell us to keep our mouths shut when his opponent landed a haymaker to the side of his head . We shut up after that.
On a Sunday the sportshall became a church. The camp was very hot on boys attending church ,when you were inducted you had to state what you religion was.
You had to be either Catholic or Protestant ,no atheism ,agnosticism ,or any other ism was not allowed. If you hesitated when it came to answering what religion you were ,you were marked down as C of E. I , naturally, hesitated in answering because ,technically I was both ,having been dipped in both fonts . "? of E" he barked , thus putting me in that category for the rest of my time at sea.
The catholic service was held first thus allowing the papists a bit of extra leisure time on a Sunday morning , we Prods had to wait while the altar was reshuffled and then had our service ,which was conducted by Mr George from the Flying Angel,
There were no overlong sermons , a couple of prayers a few hymns ,and then time was our own ,meals excepted ,to do with as we wished . Some of the lads would go to the Evangelical mission in Berkeley , you got a sticky bun and a cup of tea or pop , free ,but you had to wait until after the service. ,Once on a Sunday was enough for me.
Some of the officers had other ideas of what you could do in your spare time , one of them was called Mr Agate , perhaps the most famous of them all .
I've got to tell you about that Brigadiers son , and a boy called Squeak ,but not yet !

lindylou

03-14-2008, 09:56 PM

Thanks Brian for continuing the story :PDT11 :)

brian daley

03-15-2008, 04:01 PM

6

Sharpness had a collection of eccentrics among the staff ,Codeine Annie , Popeye, Mr .Poore , he was like a sinister Alfred Hitchcock , but they were as nothing when compared to Ginger Reeves and Mr. Agate ,note that Mister no,nicknames there . He was a committed Christian with a wry sense of humour . A bit like Jacques Tatis Monsieur Hulot ,he would ride around the camp on an old upright bicycle singing hymns at the top of his voice .He was'nt a tyrant but was strict nevertheless . The boys liked him enough to sing scurrilous songs about him"We're gonna join,We're gonna join , We're gonna join Old Agates Navy, Up at six o'clock, Marching round the block, Dirty big icicles hanging from your C**k,etc,etc..."
Old Agate used to have enthusiasms ,he organised a dance in the village hall ,we lads were ordered to attend or else!! It was Saturday night and we spent extra time on our appearance, okay, so it was'nt going to be the Locarno ,but who knows what ladies Mr. Agate might rustle up ? Hobnail boots agleaming , berets tilted at the right angle ,ties in neat windsors ,and creases you could shave with ,we strode forth to charm the girls of Sharpness ,who knows what the night might bring ?
The hall was up one of the little streets ,more like a chapel than a dance hall ,but we could hear Connie Francis singing Who's Sorry Now so it was not going to be George Formby and Gracie Fields as some of us had feared .When our little group entered the hall we found it was full to the brim. With other Vindi boys!!
There was little girl of about 8 playing with her hula hoop, another girl ,about 12 ,she was operating the Dansette record player ,and two very mature ladies standing by a tea urn and a table full of tea cakes !
"Come on boys!!" Mr Agate ordered ,"Get up and get dancing, you ,boy ,you take him and dance over there ,and you boys too ! Come on you have got to enjoy yourselves !!" we gaped at each other , "Come on Daley ,you dance with Higgins !"
In pretty short order he had us all doing the quick step with each other. Some of the lads were queuing up to dance with the old ladies rather be forced to dance with each other. And there was no escape, Old Agate stood at the door to make sure of that!
Still the tea and cakes were nice.
Ginger Reeves was like a cross between Yosemite Sam and Popeye the sailor.
Red haired and red faced , hardly a tooth in his head and a mouth full of the saltiest language ever, he could have compiled a dictionary of oaths . He would split words ,inserting a Fack as in Yesterfacking day and so on. He was funny in a scurrillous way and never funnier ,albeit unconsciously , at the Sunday service when............... Well this is what happened ,as I have already told you ,the Catholics used the Sportshall for their service and we Anglicans followed them. It was while we were waiting for the Vicar to proceed to the altar and we were settling in our seats the organist had not yet started to play and all was silent, the hushed beginnings of a Sunday at prayer, when ,into that holy silence some boy(not me ) let go with an enormous ,trouser ripping fart!!!! There was a stunned silence , and then Ginger sprang from his seat and roared "This is a bleedin’ church not a bleedin ablution!!" (very heavily sanitized version)
The entire congregation of boys shrieked with laughter ,Ginger was choking with rage ,the organist struck up with Soldiers of Christ Arise and on came the Reverend and his altar boys. It was awhile before we could settle down ,and even the vicar was suppressing a giggle. Poor old Ginger ,you could feel the heat of his blush five rows back.

Now , as to the Brigadiers son , his parents had played a lousy trick on him, they had given him the same forename as his surname ,not a good thing to do to a lad who is going to go to a sea school ! WW , as we shall call him, became a victim from the first moment he stepped onto the camp ,and, as a consequence he was in that boxing ring every week , sparring it out with his latest tormentor .It was'nt too long before he became quite proficient in the noble art and started to lay out a few of his tormentors .
He demeanour changed and he soon became a well respected boy ,you did'nt mess with WW any more. I've often wondered what his parents thought when he got home, thicker set and able to face any man.
And then there was Squeak , he was a Northerner ,from somewhere in the Pennines , his voice had'nt broken yet and he still had that squeaky timbre that pre-teens have. He was tall and skinny and had a gawky way of walking , but he had a good sense of humour. A catering trainee , he often served us lads and came in for a lot of good natured wigging ,but that voice , it was awful!! One night we had a concert and ,during the sing song, we were singing Carolina Moon ,when we became aware of this high pitched sound amongst us ,it was Squeak, almost as though a signal had been given ,all of the boys stopped singing and left Squeak to do a solo . Which he did ,with all the aplomb of a professional !.It was unique , a sound so awful yet entertaining too. Like WW , Squeak was a ring regular for a little while ,he too learned to dish it out .
Colin the Lydney lad was given permission to go home for a weekend after we had passed our Lifeboat exam, we were green with envy ,it would be more than two months before we saw our folks again. The week before he went our class had had a group photograph taken , there we were ,on the top deck of the Vindi ,standing at the rail with the bridge in the background . Smart as paint in our full uniforms .
When Colin returned to camp, he handed out to certain of us lads who were on his photograph, the names and addresses of some of the girls he knew back at his home. They had seen the photograph and asked Colin to put them in touch with the boys they had chosen to write to . I was pleased as punch when he gave me the address of my pen pal. Miss Maureen Stratford, near the Stag Inn,Yorkley, near Lydney,Glos.
From that day , and for near two years ,she and I exchanged letters . She filled many lonely hours with words from home, through her I gained a picture of village life ,we were not having a romance ,we were pen friends in the truest sense . I often wonder how life turned out for her , I lost track of her in the early sixties ,she went off to college in London and I was roving the world.

Those hobnailed boots of ours took a lot of pounding .We marched every day , P.E first thing ,get changed, get on the square and then get marching. Some of the lads had two left feet and never got to grips with it , when were you going to march on a boat? So some of them just went through the motions , others gave it everything they had . Ramrod straight , snapping to attention like a guardsman and cracking off a salute like a veteran. Those of us who could do that were formed into a squad and were given extra training , we did'nt know what for ,we did'nt care because it kept us off the labour squad . Gradually we were whittled down to a group of twenty , and we were marching for a couple of hours a day. Mr. Turner was our trainer , he was hard ,I suppose he needed to be because we were raw ,but within a week we could wheel and turn with the best. Alongside of this we were doing our seamanship course now , some of us had won our red stars for our lifeboat test ,if you won one for your seamanship, you were guaranteed a promotion to Bosuns mate ,or Bosun, or ,if you were amazingly good ,Camp Bosun! I was so eager to impress my parents ,particularly Dad ,he'd been an NCO in the army and had never let me forget it ,I'd show him. Well I got that star!! All it needed now was for the existing bosuns to leave and create vacancies for us new two star men .
But, fate had something else in store for some of us?..all that marching , it had'nt been just for show, we were going to London ,to march in front of the Queen!

,

brian daley

03-16-2008, 03:15 AM

Mr Turner told us that we lads had been selected to represent the Merchant Navy at either the Armistice Parade at the Cenotaph ,or the British Legion Festival of Remembrance at the Royal Albert Hall. We were staggered , it had not entered our heads when we were doing all that square bashing that it was all to do with that !
We would be taken to the sea school at Gravesend and be trained with boys from there, to either march at the Albert Hall , or the Cenotaph .Not both , apparently a different type of marching was required at each ceremony. When we told the lads in our hut , they called us jammy buggers ,but wished us luck ,Dickie Eames ,the lad from Rochester ,asked me if I would go and see his Mum when I was in Gravesend. He gave me 15 shillings to cover the cost of any fares .I wrote home to Mum and gave her the news’ , her letter back to me was bursting with pride . The post was great in those days there were three a day and the letters posted at 6-00p.m of an evening were guaranteed to arrive next day. Mail call was the most important time of the day for a Vindi boy, we would crowd into the mess room and Popeye would sit out front with stack of letters and parcels . He’d call out your name , you’d put your hand up, and he would send that all important bit of post right into your hand .Years of practise had gone into his unerring aim . My Mum used to send me a wedge of Danish blue cheese once a week, Popeye took a great delight in hurling it at me , it was quite pungent .
Our party was leaving Sharpness on the Saturday , a fortnight before Remembrance weekend, on the Thursday night before our hut turned out en-masse for a farewell trip to the Flying Angel ,there would be no time on the Friday ,we had to do our packing and get an early night. We never drank anything but pop or tea but we had a good time anyway, a couple of games of table tennis or snooker and then a few songs around the piano. On the way back to camp we would bellow out The Vindi song or the latest Pat Boone hit , Love Letters in the Sand. All good clean fun.
After the nightly cup of cocoa and the late chorus of the bedsprings ,it was dreamtime.
Next day passed in a blur, not long before the off. I was running back to our hut after dinner when I slipped and wrenched my ankle. I was shattered, I could’nt stand , the pain was excruciating .I saw all my dreams fade as I was helped back to the hut by two of the lads.
I wish I could remember the name of the big Scouse kid who took charge of things that night . There was still time to go ashore and he and another kid got me by the arms and helped me down to the Flying Angel , they got Mr. George on the case and he ,and his daughter, bound my ankle in an elasticated bandage . He gave me strict instructions not to remove my boots when I went to bed . The lads helped me back to camp ,and I went to bed fully clothed . I did’nt bother with breakfast next morning ,the walk down to the Vindi would have crippled me. I mustered with the rest of our party and was helped aboard our transport, which was a Morris Commercial truck that was fitted out with wooden benches . It was canvas covered and uncomfortable as hell, but at least as I was’nt going to be on my feet for the best part of a day.
This was in the days before the motorways and the journey was really nice , passing through all of those towns and villages ,each with its’ own character ,was a real experience . The sight of Market Crosses and quaint town halls , the different high streets,not a Starbucks or a Macdonalds in view . I’m glad I saw it ,it now belongs to another age. It was ironic that there was’nt a single Londoner in our party , so when we passed through that great city we were all held in thrall by its’ many wonders .
We arrived in Gravesend just in time for dinner , and the food was so much better than we had been getting in Sharpness . The school itself was totally different too , we were told that it had been a womens’ prison in days gone ,although its’ design was more reminiscent of a hospital. There were several storeys and the dormitories were open and oval in shape ,the centre was hollow .as in a prison ,and there a wrought iron rail around it to prevent us falling over . There was a pier and a boat deck on the river side of the building. This afforded a wonderful aspect of the river , diagonally across the Thames lay Tilbury, where we could see the P.&O and the Orient liners. The sight of them gleaming in the sunshine, evoked images of distant ports in strange lands.
I never got tired of looking at the ever changing pageant of vessels that passed in view before us . This made my future at sea more immediate , at Sharpness we only saw a few cargo boats ,here they were in our line of sight every moment of the day.
Gravesend was different in many ways from the Vindi ,there seemed to more catering trainees here ,and there were some trainees that we never had at the Vindi, bell boys.
They all looked about twelve years old , a lot were Jimmy ****heroe look alikes . But I learned very early on that you don’t take the mickey out of them, I did , I think I said something like “What’s the weather like down there shortstuff “,no sooner than the words were out of my mouth than I was thrown to the floor and mobbed by a whole gang of them . I gave them every respect thereafter.
You could’nt go out in a party at Gravesend , they called the boys peanuts because no more than two were allowed together ,the result of fights that had taken place in the past . A lot of the lads did’nt bother with the High Street , they had a friendly landlord in a dockside pub who let them drink there of a night. His main trade was done in the daytime with the dockworkers ,and if it had’nt been for the sea school boys he would have no trade at all of an evening. A lot of girls frequented the pub and were known to put out for the lads , the ones I saw were not the type I would have liked for a girl friend, as desperate as I was ,I was’nt that desperate ! Besides I was very , very naïve.
On my third day there , I decided to visit Dickies Mum ,the local officers had told me where to catch the bus , and being November the night came quickly so by the time I was aboard the bus it was dark outside. I had no trouble finding where Dickies house was. I did’nt know if she was expecting me because I never had a phone number to warn of my arrival . I was impressed with the houses on his estate , nice semis with mansard roofs , a world away from the tenements in Garston.
I rang the doorbell and it was quickly opened by a very nice looking lady who seeing me standing in the darkness, dressed in my uniform cried “Dickie!” and threw her arms about me. “Erm, I’m sorry Missus “ I spluttered ,and she stepped back ,shocked to see a stranger and not her son . She ushered me into to the living room and called her daughter to see me .Dickie had written ,but we were both the same height and build that she had thought I was him . Dickies sister was beautiful and so nice. She and her mum made me so welcome and asked lots of questions of how things were at the Vindi and of how Dickie was. After a drink and some refreshments she said that Dickies friend had asked if I would see him while I was there , and I nodded my assent. Luckily he lived next door and was waiting on the step for me ,I was surprised to find that he was a married man with two little boys who had been allowed to wait up to see Dickies friend from the Vindi. I had a really thick Scouse accent in those days and the two little boys , who were aged four and five ,had beautifully modulated accents. They could hardly understand a word I said , but they and their parents were really kind and friendly. I was taken into their home and given more refreshments , after which the boys were put to bed . They had school in the morning , and when I enquired which school they went to they replied “Borstal”, I was astounded and their
Dad laughed and told me that it was a public school and not what my faced showed I thought it was. They asked their Dad if I could read them their bedtime story, which I was happy to do so. They shrieked with laughter as I struggled to make myself understood. I left that lovely little household with an invitation to dinner that Friday.
When I went back to say goodnight to Mrs. Eames , she told me that her daughter would go part of the way back to Gravesend with me . It was so nice to ride on a bus with such a pretty young lady ,she was on her way to see her boyfriend ,lucky guy.
My ankle was totally healed now and we were training in earnest. Everyday we were on the promenade, two groups one lot training to march up and down stairs and the other group ,mine ,training to march in line on the road . I was in the Cenotaph team. The Albert Hall boys would do their stuff on the Saturday , three shows, and we marched ,just the once ,on Sunday. We were mixed in with the Gravesend lads and were becoming a team. There was no competition between us , we were told that we were one team ,the Merchant Navy team. We would be issued with boiled white shirts and we would be expected to outshine every other service represented at the respective parades. If we were not marching we were polishing our boots ,soles and all ! The toecaps took on the appearance of highly glossed patent leather.
On the Saturday before Remembrance weekend ,a football match was organised for a mixed team of Gravesend and Vindi Boys and an amateur team in Strood. The match would be played in a park in Strood and we all looked forward to the change in our routine .I was chosen to play as a full back ,they were ignorant of my lack of sporting skills, and thought the whole thing would be a hoot. The other team had some supporters in attendance and one of them was very abusive towards us, he was a silvery haired old guy ,and one of our team told him to “shut his geriatric gob”
Stroods centre forward took great exception to this piece of advice being given to said old gent, particularly as said old gent was his dad . A lively debate ensued , during the course of which several blows were exchanged and we ended up running for our coach. We had to get changed as we drove along and our instructors told us to say nothing when we got back ,they had thrown a punch or two as well.

I wrote , a little earlier ,that I was very naïve, to illustrate just how naïve ,read on /
After a lovely dinner at Dickies friends I was walking back to the School from the bus stop in Gravesend and was passing a row of Regency houses when a lady called me into her house ,she was wearing a negligee and it never occurred to me that she wanted anything other than help of some sort . I stood in her living room waiting to see what she wanted and at ,length I asked her what she wanted . She gave me a puzzled look and then pointed to her kettle,”It’s not working “ she said ,I looked ,it was’nt plugged in so I plugged it in for her and smiled and went on my way. I was told later that I had missed my chance , she was known for her liking of lone young sailor boys . I had a lot to learn

brian daley

03-18-2008, 11:52 PM

The lad from the Pennines gave us all a surprise one night at Gravesend,we were in the recreation room and he sat down at the piano and started to play the Warsaw Concerto ,a very dramatic piece that was in an old British war movie called Dangerous Moonlight . The opening bars filled the air and I thought "He's bloody good" ,but that is all we got ,the opening bars ! He could just about play Chopsticks after that ,still ,he was a good laugh.
On the Friday before the Big weekend , the Cenotaph contingent were taken to Birdcage Walk Barracks ,right by Buckingham Palace. We were going to be taught how to march on light gravel , a supposedly tricky feat. Birdcage Walk was were the military contingents would start off from on Sunday morning and they did'nt want anybody tripping over as they marched across the gravelled parade ground to the Mall.
We got it right after a couple of attempts and ,after a quick tour around St James Gate to look at the Grace and Favour estate, it was back to Gravesend for our evening meal. After dinner , we assembled in the gym for a briefing on the weekends events.
Mr Turner looked very grave "One of the Albert Hall lads has injured his foot" he announced, "Is there any lad from the Cenotaph group willing to take his place?"
My hand shot up, I was hoping that they would pick me; as it happened ,noone else wanted to go. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to see the Albert Hall,it would be a long day ,but that never even entered my head. There was a small snag though , I had absolutely no idea of how to march up and down steps! I would have to cross that bridge when I came to it!
I was disappointed that I could'nt alert Mum and Dad to the fact that their little lad might appear on the Telly on Saturday ,they never watched the Beeb on Saturday!
Next morning we were up at the crack of dawn ,our crisp white shirts were issued ,togged up, it was on to the coach and then off through London to the Albert Hall.
There were literally hundreds of people milling about when we arrived ,coaches were queued up disgorging their passengers, Boy scouts , Sailors, Chelsea pensioners ,British Legionnaires, Wrens , Nurses ,Guardsmen , Gordon Highlanders , National servicemen........and us!
A sense of order gradually asserted itself and we eventually came onto the body of the Hall , there, the man in charge of the whole show ,Sir Ralph Reader , explained ,with the help of a huge public address system ,the order of play.
Most of our commanders had been well briefed beforehand , our particular commander was the Commodore of the Orient line. He had been warned by Mr Turner that I was a last minute replacement and so I was placed last in the line of march so that I would'nt put other people off their stride . When I saw how steep the stairs were I did a mental flip. I was glad I was at the back.. Rehearsal lasted a couple of hours, we actually did a full performance as though it were for real . Lunchtime soon arrived and the whole lot of us were taken off to Derry and Thoms rooftop restaurant in Kensington . Nobody had told us about that treat!
All of the participants were split up so that we sat amongst mixed groups of people.
When we sat down , I had an old Indian Army officer sat opposite me, a Wren to my left and a Chelsea Pensioner to my right.
I gulped when I looked at the tableware , I had never seen so many utensils , the old Indian Army officer had noticed my look and discreetly picked up his soup spoon and silently mouthed "Outside in" with a twinkle in his eye. With his leathery face and walrus moustache ,he looked as though he had just stepped out of a Kipling story..
The Wren took a motherly role with me and the old Pensioner told me of his time in the Boer War . I could never have a meal in such august company again I thought , but we were to have dinner there before the evening show.
The matinee was packed, there were families from all over the country , our group were sat behind the Royal Naval party and we made friends with a couple of Wrens who sat immediately in front of us. They gave me , and the lad next to me, a full packet of 20 Navy cigarettes each . Between the matinee and the evening show , which was to be televised , we had some free time after our dinner at the rooftop restaurant. Kensington may be a wonderful looking place , but it is'nt much fun if you have only got a few shilling in your pocket. Whole groups of us wandered around , staring enviously at the super rich alighting from their limos as they sailed into the glittering restaurants and bars. Never mind ,one day that could be us ,one day !.
It was back to the Hall for the Big one , the Queen and Prince Philip were due to arrive and the crowds were thronging the pavements. That is when we felt a little privileged , we did'nt have to queue to see the show, we were part of it!!
Running around the entire basement of the hall is a circular corridor , it was there that the various groups were gathered ready to take their place in the hall. As the Merchant Navy lads were assembling a Naval Commander wearing full dress uniform ,leather boots and cutlass, came amongst us. It was Commander Kerans ,he of the Yangste Incident ,the man who was played by Richard Todd in the film of the same name . We stood agog , awaiting to hear what he would say. "Any of you lads marching at the Cenotaph tomorrow?" he queried. All eyes turned to me ," Me sir" I whispered. "Well Lad ,your lot will take their orders from me tomorrow, so keep your ears open for my commands !" And with that he gave smile , did a quick about turn and disappeared. My head was swirling ,that was Commander Kerans???
Pretty soon we were standing at the top of that precipitous stairway about to make our entrance to the tune of A Life on the Ocean Wave. I was out of step from the start, down and down those stairs I went , skipping to get in step ,and failing every time.
Across the floor of the hall , I looked like I was doing a Tennessee two step.
Television cameramen love losers and idiots .That night I fell into both brackets.
Mum told me , when I got home, that she was watching her programme on Granada ,when she became aware of someone yelling "MISSUS DAALEE!!" over and over again. She ran to the door and saw Kathleen Flynn , a girl from across the square ,yelling at her "Your Brian is on the Telly!!"
Mum shot back inside and switched over , just in time to seem me skipping and hopping across the floor.
The camera looked lovingly at the Pennine kid and me as we flirted with the Wrens in the seats in front of us . By the time I got back to Garston , I was a star ,I had been on the Telly,with the Queen!
The show was marvellous ,we saw things that were extraordinary, the precision marching by the RAF, the displays by the scouts and the bands of the Marines ,the high point was the playing of the last post. The moment was so poignant ,the beautiful ,mournful notes of that silvery trumpet are something that I will remember forever. The Royal party seemed like gods in those far off times , as we took surreptitious glances at the box I could'nt help but feel proud to be a part of the occasion. All too soon it was over , and then it was back to Gravesend to get ready for tomorrows parade.
It was a tired and groggy Brian Daley who appeared at breakfast next morning, I was the brunt of mickey taking for a little while ,they had all seen my silly walks and the officers were non too pleased at our flirting with the Wrens. It did'nt last for long ,we were off to Birdcage Walk to do what I really trained for.
I forgot to tell Mr Turner what Commander Kerans had told me the night before , I mean to say, they had done this ceremony before ,they surely were'nt relying on a boy to give them their orders, were they?
Well it quickly became apparent that something was wrong immediately we started off down towards Horseguards Parade, the front half of our group were marching at a different pace to the back half. We had a Naval band in front playing something stirring and martial ,and a Police band behind playing The Death March. Whoa!! And who never explained about the lampposts in the middle of the road ! Being at the back I could the marchers in front dither as they came to the first obstacle ,Which side to march on? Or do we split , and go down either side of them? It was messy for a while , but thank God ,that part was'nt televised . By the time we got to Whitehall we were in step and in order.
Watching the thousands of old warriors pass in front of us as we stood to attention at the Cenotaph was a moving experience, there were still a lot of Great War veterans young enough to march ,and there were more than a few Boer War veterans too. The British Legions ranks were filled with men and women in their late thirties and forties, the men and women who had saved Britain and Europe from the stranglehold of terror in that all too recent war.
After the two minutes silence and the laying of wreaths ,we marched to our coach and were taken to lunch at Lancaster House. This was a surprise , and a bigger surprise awaited us when we arrived. The meal was hosted by the then Minister of Transport , Mr. Heathcote Amory, with him were the Commodores of Cunard ,P& O.the Orient Line and the Admiral of the Fishing Fleet. we were told to make ourselves at home (As if!! ) and to order what drinks we liked . Oh really? "Yes boys .just give the barman your orders" said Mr Amory. A horses neck ! Brandy and Soda ! A Manhattan ! Dry Martini please. Drinks we never knew what tasted like but had heard about in the movies. We were then split up and sat at table with one of the Brass .I was fortunate enough to be sat with my old customer from No. 6 the Serpentine, Commodore Ivan Thompson. I reminded him of the time he asked his paper boy for the Radio Times ,you could tell he did'nt remember ,but he was gracious enough to pretend that he did. After a really slap up meal , one that exceeded all of our schoolboy fantasies ,we were chauffered back to Gravesend sea School for one last night .Back to the Vindi in the morning ,and just four weeks to go before we go home !

brian daley

03-21-2008, 06:05 PM

It was a slower and colder ride back to the Vindi than on the outward journey, our heads were still full of the sights and sounds of the past few days . We would miss the friends we had made in Gravesend but we were getting back to our old mates in Sharpness.
Things had moved on in our absence,our group was now the senior ,all the lads had done their lessons and we now had practical work to do .Alan was now a full bosun as were some of the other lads ,but George was the camp bosun. His grit and determination had got him where he was,the ex tearaway ,now the top man. It was a truly remarkable achievement . We marching boys, even those of us with two stars on our sleeve ,were precluded from any promotion ,only fair I suppose ,but it rankled with some of us because there was no longer the friendliness that had been there before. So we little stars had to get stuck in to manual labour like the rest of the lads who had no stars The bosuns never mixed with us like they did before and they were always on the lookout for kids to stick on jankers .These were the ones who had to do the jobs that noone else would do. Sometime jankers were inevitable ,you were given jobs ,as part of your practical work which would cause you to breach some stupid code. An instance of this was the rule that said that you could'nt go to the messroom in dirty gear ,but you had to stay at whatever job you were doing until it was time for your meal .I was painting the toilets on the quay alongside the Vindi one morning when the bell was sounded for breakfast, I never had enough time to go and get changed and took a chance and joined the meal queue .I was fairly clean ,just a bit of paint on my boots and the back of my hand. One of my old mates saw me and told me to stand under the clock. This meant seeing the duty officer and getting both a rollicking and a spot of jankers too.
So,as well as going without breakfast,I was going to be stuck on the Vindi that night ,scrubbing the pots and peeling spuds ,no shore leave that night. Next night we jankerboys had to polish the gym floor.
After the third night I fell back on my own resources, on the morning of the fourth day I reported sick at Codeine Annies hut . I gave her a reasonable enough tale to be given a berth in the hospital . There were about half a dozen lads already in here with the “Flu”. I got into bed and found that we were nearly all kindred spirits ,skivers and refugees from the chain gang.
I was as fit as a flea ,no temperature ,no runny nose or cough. Old Codeine would becoming round the ward after tea ,she would be taking temperatures and dishing out pills. The boy in the next bed told me that she would go around the beds and stick a thermometer under each boys tongue and, after she had stuck the last one in she would go back to the first boy and read his temperature and so on. There was a radiator next to my bed ,which was halfway around the ward, when she left the thermometer under my tongue I put it on the radiator and left it there until she was at the bed before mine. I slipped it back under my tongue just as she moved toward me.
She pulled it out and looked at it ,her eyes nearly came out on stalks .She quickly felt my forehead ,and then put her face right into mine . "You are a very naughty boy!" I was afraid of what she was going to say next. She spoke softly to me "Are you trying to escape Jankers ?" I nodded yes. " Then you can stay here ,but you can't leave here if you are ill" I agreed and thus escaped the unceasing round of jankers that seemed to be my lot.
I missed out on the visiting concert party being stuck in there ,but there were some good guys in there ,in fact I sailed with one a couple years later ,a guy called Brian Rutter. He was from Liverpool too and he had a great sense of humour and thus kept us entertained . I would have liked to see the concert party ,they had been there before ,when we were rookies and the girls were very pretty as well as talented. The officers were all over them like a rash. We could hear the strains of the music and laughter up there in the sick bay , but you can't have everything. I was allowed to stay until I was a Bridge Boy ;this is what we called ourselves when the days we had left corresponded in number with the spans on Lydney Bridge..
The practical work we had to do now was the type of work we would be doing at sea,rigging ,operating cargo winches wire splicing etc.
We also had to attend lectures on sexual hygiene ,as most of us were virgins we pretended to know it all. How wrong we were ,first of all we were shown a film about venereal disease, it was horrifying. They showed a picture of a diseased member ,it looked like a sausage that had been very badly cooked ,it's a wonder anyone of us ever considered sex again .And the lecturers stories filled us with even more horror,none of which I would dream of relating here.
The days were now hurrying by ,we mentally ticked off those spans each morning.
Time was taking it's toll on our physical hygiene ,the lack of proper laundry facilities was giving our underwear a greyish yellowy tinge ,our bodies were little better , we must have been riffy,but because we were all riffy you never stood out.Walking contradictions,immaculate on the outside and pongy and dirty underneath . We were moved aboard the Vindi for our last two weeks . It had a terrible secret that no one mentioned before hand . The bed decks were swarming with cockroaches. We had seen cockroaches in the kitchen ,some boys often found them in their burgoo,but no one mentioned the bed decks.
When we stowed our gear away the accommodation appeared to be a lot more comfortable than the huts ,it was certainly warmer and we were going to first in the queue for meals. However,that night ,shortly after the lights went out we heard a rustling sound ,it was everywhere, the darkness was suddenly pierced by a dreadful scream. The light was flung on and we saw this black carpet splitting in two and disappearing into the bulkheads on either side of the bed deck. Was just like watching curtains being drawn, but fast ! These were creatures of darkness ,Mr Agate,it was he who had put the lights on, told us we were alright if we did'nt get out of bed when the lights were off. As I was falling asleep that night I felt something padding up my body ,I could’nt see it and ,when I felt it settle on my tum,I put out my hand to have a feel. It was the ships cat ,and I was in its bunk. We became good bed companions in the few remaining weeks .There is something comforting in the gentle purring of a cat,that and it’s warmth helped me enjoy some restful nights.
I was'nt swimming in that blue tropic water anymore, my nocturnal fantasies had taken a different course since London..........my night time lover was none other than the Queen herself!! I was guilty of Lese Majeste !!
I could'nt tell anyone ,but night after night she would share my bed ,god knows what we got up to but I was always wracked with guilt in the morning.
It's funny how quickly you accept things as normal,that nightly rustle after lights out became as much a part of our regime as pulling the sheets up.
Then came the day when we were photographed for our discharge books ,home was a short while away. It was down to the Flying Angel to say goodbye to Mr George and his daughters, come morning we would be marching up to Sharpness station to catch the train home . All too soon those friendships we made would be torn asunder and it would be each to his own. I could'nt wait to get back to Liverpool now ,I was going to be a Merchant Seaman!!

brian daley

03-24-2008, 02:20 PM

Saying goodbye is never easy. As we assembled before Captain Duguid to receive our discharge books and hear the farewell speech ,I was filled with a mixture of sadness and anticipation .Sadness that I was leaving a group of lads that I had become mates with ,and anticipation of seeing my family again . It was the end of the second week of December and we would be reporting to our local Shipping Federations to start our seagoing careers come the 15th of that month. George ,Alan and I to Mann Island in Liverpool and the other lads to Bristol, Plymouth ,Hartlepool ,Manchester and London. There was a spring in our steps as we left those camp gates , we had been given a medical just prior to our leaving , Old Codeine had said at the beginning of our course that our diet was designed to make us healthy and strong ,well we were all heavier and taller. She must have been right !

The journey home was a little bit different than the journey down there, George and Alan had put a bit of distance between myself and them by virtue of their rank. It took a good few mile of travelling before we became easy with each other again.
By the time we got to Central Station we were back on form and promised to meet up on Monday morning to see if we could get a ship together.
Pretty soon I was on the 82 and heading for Garston, looking out on the roads and avenues ,it seemed as though I had been away a lifetime , it was well into winter now and the trees were bare and the skies were greyer . I hoped Mum would have some scouse in the pot ,I was starving!
I got off the Bus at the tennies , I was in my uniform ,kitbag on my shoulder ,boots gleaming brightly , I marched into the square and prepared to meet the folks.
The welcome home was terrific , Chris shyly greeted me ,Mum nearly hugged me to death, Jess and Bette gave me welcoming smiles and Dad told me that I looked very smart. There a beautiful smell coming from the kitchen , a smell that had my nose atwitch with memory, Mum had done me a tea that had surpassed all my expectations.
Stuffed and braised lambs hearts,with roasties ,cabbage peas and thick ,rich gravy.
I was home!!

On Saturday I went to visit Harry , who was still in Hospital , he was still full of optimism, talking was very difficult for him now that he had no lower jaw . He said that the surgeon had promised that he would soon have a plastic replacement. He did'nt know when this would happen but we both hoped it would be before the summer .
I was at a loose end that Saturday night ,putting on a couple of inches meant that none of my clothes fitted anymore ,and there was no hope of getting any new ones, I had'nt earned a bean for three months . Saturday night and nowhere to go!
Mum gave me a few bob and told me to go to the pictures ,nobody would take much notice of my uniform in the dark .I got a few odd looks as I walked into Garston ,this was a time when lots of young men were in army uniform . You could tell by the looks I was getting that they were wondering what service I was in.
I called in to say hello to May Newby at the chippy just down the block from the Empire, she was thrilled to see me and gave me a free bag of chips by way of a welcome back.
I can't remember what the film was , I got a seat on the front row of the balcony, right in the centre ,prime position for viewing the film. There was a load of short trousered young scallies sitting a couple of rows behind . They were being generally rowdy as young kids are ,but the cartoon had just finished and the Pathe News was next so maybe they will have settled down before the big picture..
It was during the Pathe News ,when I saw the flash of something twinkling in the light of projectors beam, there was a yelp of pain from the stalls ,one of the little scallies had chucked an empty bottle.
Within minutes the police were storming into the balcony audience ,the little scallies were sitting as quiet as mice, looking all angelic ,angry voices were raised and the next minute yours truly was wrenched out of his by a big flat capped policeman.
Arms up my back ,I was frogmarched down to the foyer and told I was under arrest.
The little sods had fingered me. The manager intervened and the policemen let me go ,but I was'nt allowed back in to see the show.
I ended up at home watching t.v. .I could'nt wait for Monday.

Dad had me up early Sunday, he had put the salt fish on and cooked it as he had always done ,slow boiled in milk. He had promised my Nin and Granddad that I would see them before I shipped out and so we had a journey that was so like those of a few years ago, just he and me and our great city. He had a wealth of information about our towns history so our journeys were never boring .At Nins I was given the once over,"Ees a big Lad now Billy ,the image of ar Joe". She got a picture of her brother Joe Maher, he was killed in the war ,there he was, in his quartermasters uniform on the Alcantara. It was true , I did look like him. That photo used to come out ever after when I visited Nins.
Then it was off along Walton Road to Grans in Eton Street ,another fabulous Sunday dinner and then up to Gilmoss to see my favourite Uncle, Billy Hengler. Aunt Sarah always baked me wonderful jam turnovers for Sunday tea. It was lovely to be back in the bosom of my family.
Sunday night was spent in checking everything in readiness for the Pool tomorrow,
After a fairly hectic day ,I hit the hay and sank into a deep sleep.
I was awakened next morning by mum calling me for breakfast, I yawned my way into the living room and saw a full cooked breakfast awaiting me . The radio was on and Godfrey Winn was reading out a record request from some lady somewhere. Housewives Choice, Housewives Choice!!!! What was the time!!? I was supposed to be at the Pool for 9-00a.am. Bloody Hell !! Mum had let me sleep in!
I was two hours late when I arrived at Mann Island, Mr Brown was not a very happy camper ." Punctuality ,Daley, punctuality is everything !" My mates were on their way to join their first ships. I was bereft , I felt that I had broken a pact. And, sadly , I never ,ever, saw them again .
Mr Brown took me through to see a Mr Repp,this man would play a great part in my seagoing life ,but that is in the future .What was going to happen now ? Had I well and truly missed the boat. Mr Repp looked at me and turned to look at a man seated behind him, he was a big burly man ,dressed in a three piece suit with a beautiful Albert chain across him tum. He came to the counter and inspected me , I felt like a lot that was about to be auctioned . He rubbed his chin and nodded to Mr Repp ,"He'll do" was all he said. Who was he? It turned out that he was from Blue Funnel Line and he was a boy short for a ship called the Eumaeus.This was beyond my wildest dreams ,you needed a letter from God to get in Blueys ,they had their own training school in Aberdovey and hardly ever took pool lads. I know for I had tried many times before to get into it .
I had to report to the Odyssey Works in Birkenhead,there I would be given a medical and instructions of where ,and when I would join my first ship.
I passed the medical and was told to go home and wait for the post.
Mum was a bit put out when I told her ,Christmas was just a couple of weeks away and I was going to miss it . But a whole new world was waiting for me and I was keen to get started.
.

brian daley

03-29-2008, 08:42 PM

The morning delivery on the 17th of December, included a letter addressed to me. It was from Alfred Holts and contained instructions for me to be at Lime Street station on Thursday the 18th of December. There , the crew for the Eumaeus would meet and be given their warrants to travel to King George V dock in London. I was trembling with excitement as I read the letter, this was it, in 24 hours I would be on my way.
Mum had got my clothes back to their usual pristine condition after the ?abuse ? they had suffered at the Vindi,what had been greyish yellow was now sparkling white.
She helped me pack my kitbag that night, there would be no lie in tomorrow !
After a hurried breakfast next morning,I kissed Mum goodbye ,Dad and Jess were at work and Bette was off to school, Chris came to the top of the stairs and gave me a hug as I stooped to kiss her . It struck me then that I would miss Christmas at home, no wonder Mum had been sniffling.
There was a large group assembled by the gate for the London train and I recognised a clerk that I had seen in the Odyssey works office. He was in the middle of the crowd and was being subjected to a bit of good natured ribbing, he was a bit gormless looking in a George Formby way. I thought that he was a bit like Masefields? grey squirrell, someone who would have liked to have been a sailorman ,but sailed a desk instead. He knew most of the men by name and was giving each one their papers. He came on the platform with us , I suppose to ensure that we all actually got on board the train. As the whistle was blown and the train started to move away , one of the men ,who was holding the carriage door open , proferred his hand to the clerk to shake goodbye. The clerk took hold of it and was hauled aboard and deposited on a seat .
?Oh no!? he wailed, this happened to him lots of times apparently. I felt really sorry for the sad man , it would be Crewe before he could get off!

I cannot remember the journey across London , time has erased that particular trip, but I clearly remember my first glimpse of the Eumaeus. She was tied up half way along the quay, she looked enormous, her big bluff bow , which curved down to the water ,the long sweeping lines of her hull .the sides of which were mighty steel plates that had double ,and sometimes triple ,rows of rivets. This gave her an appearance of strength and power. She was a three island ship, in laymens terms , she had a forecastle,the bow; then there were three hatches, a centre castle, this was where the accommodation ,bridge, engine room, galley and mess rooms where. Then there was a small hatch and aft of that was the sailors accommodation. There were two more hatches after that and then there was the poop deck, and it was here that the Chinese engine room crew lived . From the quayside the fore and after masts looked as though they scraped the sky. Her large funnel , atop the centre castle, was painted bright blue with a black band at the top. Ascending her gangway , I began to get the smell of her, the fuel oil ,mixed with the aroma of her cargo ,filled my nostrils with a scent as heavy and beguiling as any that Paris could offer. The feel of her, the steady thrum of her generators ,the hiss and wheeze of her steam pipes. All of this made me aware that this was a living entity.
She had just returned from the spice islands and we were a relief crew, the old crew was busy signing off in the officers mess and we had to wait for them to leave before we could occupy their cabins .
Some of the old crew knew the relief crowd and they swapped yarns whilst waiting for the off. She was going to be in London for a couple of days and then she had to go to Hamburg to discharge some of the cargo there after which she would sail to Liverpool. So it would be a short trip for me then.

After the homeward bounders had made their exit I was shown my first shipboard ?home?. It was a three berth cabin ,very spacious , with proper wooden bunks, a wooden locker for each of us and two drawers apiece for our clothes. We also had heavy weather lockers which doubled as two seater benches on either side of a table.
It was a lot cosier than I had anticipated. My two cabinmates had done a couple of trips before and were due to be promoted to junior ordinary seamen when we got back to Liverpool. At that moment though we were the three deck boys known more familiarly as ?Peggies?. It would be our job to look after the deck crowd , getting their meals ,washing the dishes ,scrubbing and polishing the messroom , bathroom ,recreation room and alleyways. We would take it in turns to do that job , the other two would either , work on deck or be the petty officers peggy. Whichever job we did meant working from 6-00 a.m. to 6-30p.m. with meals and ?Smokoes? in between.
The cooks were Chinese and the meal they were preparing that evening had me drooling at the mouth. After three months of short rations at the Vindi I was in for one heck of a surprise.
Being brand new I was?nt considered good enough to be a messroom peggy just yet so I sat down with the rest of the men for the evening meal . My eyes took in the fact that there was four lots of cutlery , soup spoon, entree knife and fork ,main course knife and fork ,and a dessert spoon .Was this a mistake ? No! I had died and gone to food heaven???we started off with a rich minestrone soup (the first time I had tasted it )this was followed by a beautiful Cornish pasty ,the shortcrust pastry so light it melted in my mouth ,the filling, not some noisome paste but a viscous mixture of meat chunks and fresh carrots peas and potatoes. This was followed by a dinner plate filled with roast beef ,potatoes ,parsnips carrots cabbage and gravy, oh very heaven itself, and this was Friday night ,not Sunday!! For afters there was a steamed fruit pudding that was right out of Mrs. Beetons book , figs .prunes .dates and sultanas all moistly embedded in a rich sweet suet mix, topped with a caramel custard???
I put three inside me that night. When I finished the last spoonful ,I looked up to see the astonished faces of the crew, they were trying to understand what they had just seen. THREE PUDDINGS!!! ??E must ?ave bloody ?oller legs ? one of them said . But they had?nt just left the Vindi..!
I helped the Mess Peggy to ?scrap up?, that?s what they called washing up. Once everything was squared away we had to get the Supper in , this consisted of a collation of cold meats and salad which would be left in the mess room for the deck crowd to snack at during the evening.
When we had finished our chores we had to shower (Mandatory) and do our personal dhobying, (laundry). You quickly learned that this was not an option ,it was something that you were expected to without question. My two cabinmates taught me to dhoby properly. Here ,unlike at the Vindi, there was an abundance of hot water and soap powder. We had a great big scrubbing board which ran along the bulkhead over the sinks ,and it was there that I was taught how to get whites sparkling clean through the power of elbow grease.
The A.B.?s actually paid us to do their laundry because we were so good at it.
I never had enough money to go ashore when we were in London and so I got to know the Chinese crowd because they stayed aboard too, they were inveterate gamblers and would spend hours playing Mah Jong. The steady clack of the tiles hitting the table being interspersed with hisses and many ?Aah So?s? They drank whiskey by the gallon and let me have a sip as well.
I explored the ship as best as I could during those nights aboard in London ,she carried half a dozen passengers ,there were none on board at present, and had a deck crew of 18 ,There was a Bosun, Lamptrimmer(He was a kind of Bosuns?mate ) and a Carpenter (known as Chippy )
While we were in port , we had a night watchman to look after the gangway. The one looking after our vessel was an old chap who had a very weather beaten face. With his oilskins and battered old peaked cap he looked the very image of an old tar.
I asked him if he would like a drink of tea and was very surprised when he answered yes, for his voice belied his features. It was a cultured voice, one that you would expect from an officer. I made him a cup and had a chat the first of many in the short time that we were there. I could?nt guess how old he was , his leathery skin and hawk like eyes made him appear ageless. I asked him if he had ever been to sea and he gave a little smile by way of a reply. ?A time or two? he answered . I asked him how long ago he had packed up going to sea . ?A good few year ago ? was all he said. We sat in silence , looking at the darkened warehouses and the skeletons of the dock cranes. I was curious , this man was older than my Granddad, why was he sitting here on a cold winters night. ?What were you when you were at sea ?? I asked. ?What do you want to know for ?? he asked in return. ? My Granddad was at sea before the First World War, I just wondered if you were the same as him ? I replied rather lamely. ? I could tell you a tale or two my boy, but you might not believe them? he said, looking at me across the years. ? I love to hear some ,honest?
He was a pipe smoker and he stuffed it full of a black mixture, all the while looking at me ,was I a young punk out to take a rise out of him? I got up and went to the messroom and brought back two oranges, one for him and one for me .
?D?you really want to hear an old mans story ?? ?Yes ? I nodded. He picked up the orange and began to peel it . The story he told me was of a man who had been a master of this very company I now belonged to. He was the Captain of an ?H? class liner and was due to retire , this was during the last days of peace ,and he had opted to retire to a life on a plantation on Malaya. He had taken his retirement money in sovereigns and he and, his wife were going to spend their sunset years in that far away land. They had no children , nor any ties to bind them to a life in the cold .cold northern climes. They were going to be the ?Tuan and his Lady?. He did?nt bank his sovereigns ,he had them in a brassbound chest locked up in a strong room in his bungalow.
Sadly for them ,the Malayan Peninsular was overrun by the Japanese army before they could get away. He managed to get his papers ,which included his Masters certificate, the money was lost ,taken by his captors. He was imprisoned in Sumatra and his wife was taken somewhere else .He never found out where ,she never survived.
At the wars end he was repatriated to England where he set about finding work.
He spilled ink across the date of birth on his Masters certificate and succeeded in getting a berth with Cunard, he managed to do a year with them before his deception was discovered ,and here he was now ,a lowly night watchman ,eking out his meagre pension.
You can imagine how the older hands laughed when I told them his story at breakfast the next day, ? If you believe that , you?ll believe anything Lad? was the general contention. When I saw him again that night , he smiled and greeted me by asking for a cup of tea. I fetched him one and when I sat down with him he pulled a waterproof package from his pocket which he unwrapped and took out a sheaf of papers.
I craned my neck to get a better look at what it was that he was holding.
He unfolded a piece of paper that looked like an old birth certificate ,it was his Masters certificate, tattered and inkstained ,there it was ,testament to his story. He passed across an old black and white photograph, it was of him as a younger man ,standing proudly on the bridge of an old steamship, four stripes on his sleeve denoting his position of Master of the vessel. That had?nt been a fairy story he had told me the night before ,it had been the story of his life.
Come Sunday morning I was roused out of my slumbers by the Bosun , an old Scotsman who was nicknamed? Whammy? (a rope yarn), because he never swore but used the expletive "whammy" instead of something stronger.?Pegs ? he yelled ,?It?s Sunday morning and you?ve to go and see the Mate for the altar cloths for the morning service?. Now I had?nt fallen for the usual japes like a ?long stand ? or a ?bucket of steam ? so I was prepared not to be taken in by this one. ?Sod off? I says. He grabbed me by the shoulders, ?we are all God fearin? men on this vessel ,and ,contrary to what you may?o been told , we pray of a Sunday. Now get your whammy carcase up top and ask the Mate for them altar cloths!? he roared. I was up the companionways tout suite. I knocked on the Mates door ? Mr Mate sir, the Bosun has asked me to fetch the altar cloths?, ?hang on a minute," he said " I?ll just have a look,?
He came to the door and told me that the Chief Engineer may have taken them, these were officers ,they would?nt be involved in a joke would they? And thus it was that I went from pillar to post in search of the unfindable. When I reported back to Whammy that they had disappeared, he told me to go along the dock to our sister ship the Diomed to see if we could borrow theirs?. When I climbed wearily up the gangway of the Diomed I was met by a very fat , balding man with the worst false teeth ever. ??Oo are yew ?? he enquired. I told him of my quest.?We ?aven gorreny? he said ? Yizz?l ?ave to yoos burlap instead!? he cackled. I crept back to the Eumaeus, his laughter ringing in my ears.
We were sailing in an hour, was I the only one to be excited,we were going to cross the North Sea, woww!

brian daley

04-02-2008, 06:00 PM

We were ?turned to? closing the hatches, putting on the tarpaulins ,three to each hatch , dropping the derricks and making everything ready for sea . The men worked like a well oiled machine , each man to his own task ,the senior ratings doing the difficult jobs and the junior ratings supplying the brawn. As a rookie , I could just about keep from tripping over my own feet . I was the new boy and it was very apparent that I knew very little about proper deck work. All I could do was trail after my cabinmates and keep out of harms way . For a newcomer it was breathtaking to see the speed and efficiency that these men displayed. Pretty soon everything was made shipshape and we were all set to let go and sail.
The tugs bustled alongside , like little ducklings abreast their mother. I was put on the back spring with a couple of old hands , this was a thick wire rope that helped keep the ship tight alongside the quay. I was regaled with tales of men who had been decapitated when one of them had parted and was extra careful to stand clear.
Soon the engines started up , making the whole ship shudder as the powerful screws began to propel the ship . We left the quay stern first and the head ropes were cast off and the little tugs nursed us toward the lock gates ,the dockside panorama swinging by as turned head up to go out.
We were soon into the river, sailing down the Thames toward the North Sea , experienced sailors get the ?channels ? when heading for home, I had them now heading for Hamburg.
I was now put in charge of the sailors mess , the Bosun ,having seen my performance on deck most probably thought it was a safer option, I was?nt too unhappy about the deal . It was warm and although I had a lot to do , I at least knew what I was doing. Deck experience would come later.
I was still eating for England , even after three days of none stop gorging ,I could?nt help it ,everything was so tasty. The chief cook was a Birkenhead man ,he was about 50, burly and surly ,but he ran a good kitchen. All of the rest of the kitchen staff were Chinese ,they were from Hong Kong and spoke ?pidgin? English. I had to pick up the rudiments of it to get the sailors meals. If I wanted a loaf I had to ask ?Hey cookie ,you catchee me one loaf chop ,chop!? Not difficult, I got a lot of practise with my requests for more puddings ,? Hey cookie you catchee me more duff ,chop ,chop!?
Well , on the third day aboard ,and my 10th time of asking for more duff ,the cook grabbed me by my throat and hauled me through the kitchen hatch. He looked furious, wielding a chopper , he sat me down in front of the butchers block (I thought he was going to behead me!).On the block was a ten man steamed pudding??and a spoon.
Holding me by the throat ,he pointed to it and said ?YEW FACKIN EAT !!?
I looked at his reddened face ,twisted in anger, he waved the chopper ?FACKIN EAT,NOWW!!? he roared. I picked up the spoon and ate, it was lovely ,for the first twenty spoonfuls ,I wavered and up went the chopper. On and on I plodded , forcing it down, all the portholes around the galley were filled with the heads of crewmen watching this ghastly ritual, death by duff! I was made to eat every last crumb, it was a long , long time before I could face a pudding again.

In the messroom , all the talk had been about what a fabulous place Hamburg was, this was 5 years before the Beatles and just 13 years after the end of the 2nd world war. The Deutsch mark was 12 to the pound and you could get a fortune for English cigarettes, coffee and other items that were still regarded as luxuries. Prostitution was rife and the sailors waxed eloquent at the earthly delights that awaited Jolly Jack Tar when he went ashore in that old sailor town. Looking back over 50 years , when the world was a lot simpler to a callow youth, I was not burdened down with thoughts of exploitation and political incorrectness , I was a testosterone filled youth about to burst his trousers, and here was a town full of young ladies only too willing to help me lose my cherry. It was a stormy crossing to Germany but the Eumaeus was a well found ship, she was made to face the roughest that nature could throw at her , and she was fast.
All too soon we were making fast in the docks in St. Pauli, the very heart of Hamburg. like Liverpool ,was a real sailor town , the dockside was full of little bars ,the deck crowd all had girl friends there and the most favoured bar was one called the Cabbage Patch ,but I had heard so much about the Reeperbahn ,and in particular, the Winkelstrasse, that I was not going to go anywhere else if I could help it. After our evening meal ,the washing up done and all squared away, we were sitting in the messroom and no one seemed to be making a move, why? No money that was why, we had only been aboard 5 days ,not enough time to have any spending money. Not on 2 pound a week anyway. But this was Hamburg , a place I had long fantasised about. I asked one of the A.B.s how we got money to go ashore , ?Just go up and ask the captain, he?ll give you some ?. Like a lamb to the slaughter , I made way up to Captain Curpheys stateroom . He was sound asleep in his bunk when I walked in, I went over and shook him by the shoulder (This Man had just brought us across a stormy North Sea and was having a well earned kip, but what did I know?)
He sat up and groggily shook his head, ?Wazza marrer?? he growled. ?Erm ,can I have some dough please skip?? I replied. He looked at me in disbelief , slowly, shaking his head ,as though he was having a bad dream ,he pointed to his trousers laying across the back of his chair .?Give us them ?ere ? he said ,I did so and he stuck his hand in one of the pockets and pulled out some notes. ?Ere,? he said ,thrusting the money into my hand,? Now sod off and let me get to sleep!?
I went back down to the messroom , clutching the three pound notes in my hot little hands. The look on the sailors faces was magic, it was not the result they had expected.
I went and got changed,almot feverish with excitement ,?tonight?s the night !!? I was going to kiss my cherry goodbye.
One of the senior ordinary seamen ,or SOS as they were known ,came into our cabin, ?I can show you the way to the Reeperbahn ,save you getting lost and that? he said, I was more than happy for him to show me the way, I would be doing the business that much sooner.
It was dark as we made our way there ,the district had been heavily bombed during the war and there were still lots of Bomb sites about . Soon we were at the Reeperbahn ,nothing in life had prepared me for this, there were endless neon lit bars and lots of beautiful young ladies plying their trade on the pavements, Matelots of every nation thronged the street ,hungrily they eyed the women. The very air reeked of unconsummated lust. But I wanted to go to the Winkelstrasse, this was a place of legend ,known by every sexual naif throughout the world, I had seen the photographs, I had some idea of what I could expect.
And then we were there. Metal screens stood at the end of the street , they were emblazoned with posters ,in 3 languages, forbidding entrance to all Allied personnel.
When the SOS and I entered , we could?nt move for Allied personnel!
The sight I beheld was beyond my wildest imaginings, the street had what appeared to be large shop windows lining both sides , about 6 windows on each pavement. Inside the window were tableaus of worldly delights, Dressed up like Lewis? window at Christmas, instead of pixies and snowmen there were ladies attired in all manner of titillating outfits.
Little Bo Peep , with her shepherds crook, the Dominatrix in her basque and thigh high boots ,nurses and milkmaids, blondes princesses and bewinged fairies. This was a Disneyland of lust and I staggered from window to window , hotter than hell under my collar and more nervous than I had ever been in my life. I could?nt make up my mind .Up and down that street I went ,in daze ,?Here it was, did I want to do it??
The SOS tore the money out of my hand, hurrying into one the doorways he called out ?I?ll tell you what it was like after ? I waited a miserable quarter of an hour and he came out looking like the cat that had got the cream. We had a couple of drinks on the way back to the ship and, as we were passing what I thought was a florists window,we noticed a silk shawl bearing the Blue Funnel badge , it was draped over an urn.
Stopping for a closer look ,we saw it bore the name of one of our sister ships that had been in port when we arrived. Written beneath the badge was the legend ,?In Memory of,? and here it bore the name of a seaman known to the SOS, ?who was killed on the 20 th of December 1958? just two days ago!
We walked back to the ship in silence,a very sombre ending of what should have been special night.

brian daley

04-03-2008, 11:58 PM

We had discharged the last of our cargo and made the ship ready to sail for home, I was a little more “savvy” than when we had left London ,this time I was trusted to stand by with the after crowd . It was all rope work at the poop. It was my job to coil the ropes as they were hauled back on board. It was getting on dusk as we made our way out of St Pauli ,I heard the second mate calling “You Lad “ I looked around to see what he wanted ,it was me he was calling. “Get aloft and clear the house flag” he said. I looked up at the after mast and saw that the flag was stuck in the rigging at the highest point of the topmast. He wanted me to go up there?
I stood gaping at the mast “Today…..please!!” he said firmly. I nodded and fled up there, it was exhilarating. , the deck shrunk in size as I ascended ,I looked out across the harbour and could see for miles, I must have taken too long for I heard him yelling from below. It was only a kink in the halyard that had snagged in the block. Job done , I descended and felt like I had passed a milestone. The sky was blackening as we cruised down the Elbe ,word had it that we were heading into a gale. Being mess peggy ,I had to get the sailors dinner served so did’nt get chance to watch the scenery going down to Welcome Point,it was dark anyway and by the time we got out of the river we were in very heavy seas.. My first storm, the wind was screaming through the rigging and the sky and the sea was black, white hores stampeded on the wave tops and the ship juddered and rolled ferociously. She was empty of cargo and seemed to bounce and shake , I should have been frightened ,seasick and cowering in my bunk, I was none of those things, I was fascinated, no movie ,no story book could prepare you for this. The endless mountains of waves ,rolling toward you ,curling and crushing against the bows , the engine seemed to race as the stern was lifted from the sea,and everything in the messroom was on the move. We had battened down and were roaring toward home. I was very tired after such a long day and got my head down early. Some of the daymen were doing overtime cleaning the hatches and my two cabinmates had joined them. I did’nt take much rocking to get to sleep, I was deep in my slumber when I was shaken roughly awake. Whammy stood by my bunk,he had on his oilskins and so’wester, a haunted look on his face.”Get up!!” he yelled, were we sinking? I was scared stiff, “Get on yer ‘skins and get down number 2 hatch,tell Lampy the fore tops’ls blown out and and we’re gonna lose the mast!!”
I scrabbled into my gear and made hurriedly for the deck, “ Get down there quick lad or we've all had it!!!” he called after me, I sped as though on winged feet.
In through the masthouse and down that ladder, I must have looked as the I was being chased by the very hounds of hell. Out of puff and gasping for breath ,I managed to shout out the garbled message, and ,as the words left my lips ,I realised that I had been had……again! Blushing like hell,I ascended the ladder to roars of laughter. Bloody sails ,on a motor vessel. Whammy was well in his cups when I got back, he gave me a cuff and said “Ye’ll larn lad,ye’ll larn” This was Christmas Eve ,a bit different from home,no use hanging a stocking up here boy.
Next morning was different, no work was done by the deck crowd,only the watch men and the peggies had to do their bit. If I thought the food had been good before , the fare on Christmas Day was awesome . It started off with a gargantuan breakfast and then was followed by a Christmas Dinner right out of Dickens.
The Captain allowed the men a generous ration of ale and all those not on duty got stuck in to a bacchanalian rout.We peggies had to keep the nosh coming and to keep a low profile ,old salts don’t like uppity kids. The Captain and the Mate came down to the mess during our evening meal, he brought a couple of cases of Double Diamond ,a bottle of Four Bells rum and made a toast, after which he made a sharp exit and let the men to continue their carousing.
As soon as he left ,some of the younger A,B.s thought it would be fun to have a bun fight , it might look fun in a Laurel and Hardy movie ,but when you’re the poor sod who has to clean up afterwards, it kind of takes the shine off it. There were trifles splattered on the deckhead (ceiling) meat pies and all manner of cakes squashed on the deck ,there was a hardly a square inch that was‘nt grunged and us peggies were stuck at it for hours before we got it clean again. Our alley was quite lively when we got back to our bunks , there was the sound of drunken singing coming from the cabins. The other lads said it would be best if we kept out of the way,if things got too rowdy we might get hurt. It was too noisy to go asleep so we thought we would go to the mess room and have a cup of something. I was the last to leave the cabin and ,as I was walking to the door on deck ,an A.B. from the Dingle ,Big Peter, called me to his cabin. “’Ave a drink pegs “ he slurred,offering me a bottle of Double Diamond . I was chuffed ,he had never said a word to me before then. He slumped down on his bench “Go on, gerrit down yer” he said, I raised the bottle to my lips and was smashed in the face by his bony fist .”Never let me see you drinkin’ yer F++++’n punk” He grabbed the bottle off me and slung me out his cabin. Smarting with pain ,and anger,I made my way to the mess and found it empty. I could hear the sound of an Elvis Presley record coming from a nearby cabin and went to investigate. Passing Whammys cabin ,I saw him sitting at his desk, a bottle of scotch to hand ,working on a belt that he was making, it was like macramé and had a Navajo Indian pattern. He paused and looked at me ,”it’s all about knots lad “ he said,”learn your knots and you could do this”. He reached under his desk and pulled out a Turks Head, “ make me one of these before we get to Birkenhead an’ I’ll gi’e ye a pound” .He passed the knot to me and let me go. The music was coming from the chief cooks cabin next door, I could hear the other 2 peggies in there and went to join them. They were drinking Tennants lager and motioned me to come in. The cook looked at me with drunken eyes “’Ere she is, Madame X, come and sit by me “ he leered. He was very, very drunk. A can of lager was stuck in my hand, the first I had ever tasted, it was good, the music was good ,and pretty soon there was another can, and then a glass of rum. I was getting whoozy. I did’nt notice the lads go, somehow it was just the cook and me. He looked at me in a way I had never been looked at before,
“ You’re a sexy little bastid y’know “ he said rising out of his seat, “I’ll show you what shagging is all about boy “ I stood up to go and he grabbed me about the waist. He was a strong swine ,he was panting and he forced me toward his bunk,” I’m gonna ‘ave you boy “ I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he strugglied to undo my belt. I was kicking and wriggling for my life. The bosuns’ cabin was next door and I screamed for help ,my hands were free and I reached across his bunk and banged the bulkhead but nothing was heard but the sounds of rock and roll. I managed to twist around and I kneed him in the crotch,causing him to loose his hold. I shot for the door and he tried to grab me again ,but I was through it and pulled it shut on his fingers with a pleasing crunch. I raced back to my cabin ,the lads were sound asleep and I nearly cried ,so lonely and helpless did I feel. Christmas night, peace on earth and goodwill to all men . Next morning,when I told them what had happened , they said that he was having a laugh , I was mistaken and that nothing would have happened. I knew different ,I had felt his erection sticking into my back!
We got to Birkenhead on the 27th of December,nice and early, we were paid off and could go home as soon as we liked , I had to clean up in the mess and the other peggies helped ,one of the O.S.s said that he would pack my kitbag so that we could all get the bus and ferry together . I thought how kind he was and thanked him. When I got to the cabin,all was shipshape ,the kitbag locked and ready and then it was off ashore.We caught the bus at Morpeth lock and the O.S. said to bring my kitbag upstairs, someone might nick it from under the stairs, I had to look after it ,I had 200 hundred duty free in there.
When we got upstairs ,he took my bag off me and opened it,it was stuffed full of his smuggled duty free!! And one of my cabin mates had stuffed a ruddy great shackle in there for good measure. I did see the funny side. When we got off the ferry at the Pier Head ,I felt a bit sad a leaving these new made friends, it had been less than a fortnight ,but it had seemed like a lifetime. Walking toward my bus stop , I was filled with happy anticipation of seeing my family once more.

Ged

04-04-2008, 12:21 PM

Should be in a book all this Brian. :handclap:

lindylou

04-04-2008, 02:03 PM

Should be in a book all this Brian. :handclap:

I keep telling him that Ged :) :)

brian daley

04-04-2008, 07:08 PM

Since finishing that last posting ,other memories of my first trip have surfaced into consciousness. The strange feeling you experience when stepping on to terra firma after a few days of bad weather, the solidity throws you out of kilter. Your first few steps are wobbly ,so used are you to the pitch and roll. Secondly ,the silence , every moment at sea you are living with the constant beat of the engines ,like a child in the womb is soothed by its? mothers heartbeat ,so the measure of a sailors day is to the accompaniment of the engines tune. It was hard to get to sleep for the first few nights at home.
When we received our pay off ,I found that Captain Curphey had not deducted the ?3 .00 he had given me in Hamburg, the S.O.S ,however repaid me the ?3.00 he had whipped out of my hand in the Winkelstrasse. This money,combined with the laundry money and my pay,with overtime, gave the princely sum ?11.18s,after deduction of insurance, union dues and 2 allotment of a pound a week to my Mum. I was awash with dosh!!
When I stepped off the 82 bus at Speke road Gardens ,I felt like a millionaire.
My elder sister, Jess was now courting ,very seriously ,a local man named Graham, we had known him for years ,and he was part of the welcoming committee that greeted me as I arrived home. It was still fairly early and Mum suggested that I might want to spend some of my money on a new outfit ,I had grown out of all my existing clobber. I still fitted my blue zipper jacket with the white piping on the lapels. I thought I looked very American in that, ah! the delusions of youth. That jacket and a pair of gaberdine trousers , were the only things that fitted me. Mum refused to take any keep off me ,she told me top get some decent clothes instead. So, it was off to town to get kitted out. Mum came with me and I went to Burtons, Hepworths, and Lewis?s before I settled on beautiful brown suit with a subdued tartan pattern. Mum bought me a Tattersall check shirt to go with it and I got a pair of golden brown suede shoes from Lennards. An emerald green cheese cutter and Lovatt pattern woollen tie finished off the ensemble. Never in my life had I felt so complete as a person, Dad said I looked like the Duke of Bootle.

That night Mum and Dad let me have a drink ,the first official drink at home. I was too elated to do much that night, so I stayed in with my Mum and kid sisters watching I love Lucy and whatever else there was on then. I had expected to have a good few days in which to enjoy my new status ,see Anne, my cake shop girl and go and see Harry. Well ,the best laid plans of mice and men etc.; next morning there was a telegram from Blue Funnel, I had to ?phone them immediately. I went to the ?phone box by Bryant and Mays and made the call. Did I want to sail on another of their ships was what they wanted to know, I answered yes ,yes !
They told me to go to Birkenhead ,now, and pick up my ticket for the midnight train for Glasgow. I had had one night at home, talk about torn. I was to join the Jason for a voyage to Australia. It seemed unbelievable, to cross half the world ,journeying through European ,Arab and Australian ports . I went home in a tizz.
Mum eyes filled up when I told her, but she never cried, I looked at Bette and Chris, and wondered if they knew how much I would miss them. And Anne and Harry, no time to see them and tell them the news. Instead it was a trip into the Army and Navy Stores to buy a Lybro jacket and some dungarees. I was embarrassed wearing the Vindi outfit and wanted to look like the rest of the crowd. I picked up the ticket from the Odyssey works and went home and packed.
I left home in plenty of time to catch the midnight train , I did?nt want mum or sis to see me off, and was too embarrassed to ask Dad. So there I was in Lime Street, kit bag and new suitcase (Mum said not to wear the suit on the train, It would get rumpled on the long journey). Sixteen years and seven months of age, and making the biggest journey of my life.
At that time of night ,Lime Street belonged to travellers and bums, most of the travellers were Scots returning home for Hogmanay, there was no rowdiness, just the polite chatter of strangers. Because I had missed Christmas ,and was going to miss New Year, Mum had made me up a parcel of her fabulous Christmas fare.
She had put in a very large wedge of her Christmas cake, this was a juicy confection, full of whiskey and fruit, the marzipan and soft icing giving it a magical once a year taste. I was going to enjoy that on the train. Just before we were due to leave, an old guy, who looked as though he had had a very hard time ,came and asked me for some money so he could get a bite to eat. He told me that he was an ex Merchant Navy man and could see that I was a sailor ,he was a flatterer. I fell for his story though and gave him my Mums package. The look on his face was wonderful ,it was showing ?F=+&^n? cake!? but he thanked me with words.
I was going to need that packet ,or so I thought .When the train got under way, my fellow passengers were kindness itself, they had come well prepared and were starting their celebrations early. We travelled through the night ,stopping at very few stations, but each time we did ,it was to pick some more home going Scots.
By the time we got to Glasgow ,I was looking forward to Hogmanay.I still had a couple of pounds left.
A new day was dawning, what was I walking into now ?

brian daley

04-05-2008, 09:12 PM

Bootsie ,Billo and Me

I joined the Jason in Govan ,she seemed much bigger than the Eumaeus, by just over two thousand tons. She had the same graceful lines and ,with the extra tonnage ,had an even greater appearance of strength and solidity. Laying just along the quay from her was the Eumaeus ,she was beginning to load cargo for her next voyage to the far east. There was hardly anyone about when I got aboard ,no bosun or deck crew were visible . I went up to the chief officers cabin to report and he took me along to the captains cabin to get signed on. My situation here was as it had been on the Eumaeus, I was a last minute replacement.
The captain sent me along to the second steward to draw my linen and towels,and he showed me to the peggies cabin after giving me the necessary.
The cabin was laid out differently to the one I had just vacated ,the three bunks were in line, two ,one atop the other, as you came through the door,and the third at the end of these two, screened by a wooden partition from the others ,with the bottom of that bunk beneath the porthole. That was the best bunk because you could see the ocean, or the shore if you were in port. The two best bunks were already occupied. My cabin mates ,who I had yet to meet, had joined her in Liverpool. So, I was left with the top bunk , it was about 7 foot off the deck , not the easiest berth to get into and even harder to make the bed. After unpacking my gear and stowing everything away ,I made my way to the messroom to see if there was any grub ,the evening meal was being served up but there were hardly any crew about. I sat myself down at the handiest position and was tucking into my dinner, when the first A.B turned up, he had been working down the hatch ,hence my not seeing anyone, looking at me ,he said "You don't want to sit there". The messroom had been empty," I don't see anyone else wanting to sit here" I answered. "Well ,don't say I did'nt warn you" he said, sitting down to eat his own meal. I was just starting to eat my pudding when an old salt staggered through he door ,he looked as though he had been at the bottle because his eyes were shut fast and he was feeling his way about. Fumbling toward me ,he made to sit down in the place I had occupied, feeling me instead of the chair ,he cocked his head sideways and opened his eyelids, very slowly. "Poooh yurr!" he snorted as he grasped me by the scruff of the neck ,and with one yank ejected me ,hurling me across the messroom as he did so. That was my introduction to the legendary Wally Skeggs. He had some kind of affliction which made it very difficult for him to fully open his eyes, the company allowed him to sail as a promenade deck man and his disability did not stop him functioning in that capacity. He was very old and I came to love him like a grandfather. The man who warned me of my faux pas was a Welshman called Elwyn Jones , he was one of the famous Welsh Navymen , all from North Wales ,they formed the backbone of most Blue Funnel crews . I was to learn a lot of seamanship from Elwyn .But of my cabinmates ,there was still no sign. When I finished my evening meal ,I strolled along the dock to the Eumaeus , the two peggies were still aboard her ,as were a couple of the E,D.H.s.
They were happy to see me and I was even happier to see them , I would'nt have to spend the night on my own now.
We went into Govan and had a mooch around ,it was'nt the liveliest of places and it seemed a lot bleaker than Liverpool, the pubs were warm and friendly though and we passed the night quite happily. Feeling sleepy after such a long day, I made my excuses and went back to the Jason to get an early night, the three pints of Heavy were making themselves felt. When I opened the cabin door, I was shocked to see my bedding strewn about the deck, there was still no one about ,only Wally and Elwyn .I quickly remade the bunk and went to sleep in a murderous mood.
I was sound asleep when the door crashed open and the lights were switched on . Standing in the doorway was a drunken young Teddy boy and a half cut callow youth.......my cabinmates! I roared awake "Which of you two smart arses tipped my bunk to the deck ?" I shouted . Bootsie , his face contorted in drunken aggression,replied "Ooh the f8=k are yew!" Sitting up, I said "You're new cabinmate ,Now which of you two *******s tipped my gear?" Pulling his Green River deck knife out of his pocket ,Bootsie waved it at me ,"D'yew want some o' this ?" he shouted. It was a stupid thing to do ,but I did it without thinking. I rolled out of my bunk and landed on his shoulders, which sent him crashing to the deck. He had dropped the knife and I grabbed his ears whilst I sat on his chest,and gave his head a good drumming on the deck. I thought I had been fighting for my life, poor Bootsie was crying "Don't hurt me mate, don't hurt me!" Tears were pouring down his face and his body was wracked with sobs. I stood up and saw Billo,cringing in the corner ,I could see he was very frightened. I helped Bootsie up and he told me that it was one of the O.S's who had made the mess ,they were too frightened to stop him.
After that bad start ,we shook hands and got our heads down. I would have to face that O.S. in the morning.
We were called at 5.30 in the morning by the night watchman. There was a hot cup of tea and a warm slice of toast for each of us in the messroom , the night watchman had prepared it before calling us. I met the bosun ,Wilf was his name ,a man about sixty ,chubby and hard looking, he gave us peggies our duties. We would work week about as ,deck peggy, mess peggy and bosuns peggy. The work load was equally weighted , we would start at 5-30 every morning and work through , with meal breaks and smoko's, until the last plate had been washed after the evening meal . There would be a Captains inspection every morning while we were at sea ,this took place at 10-00 sharp and everything had to be spotless. My first go was as bosuns peggy, the first job I had to do every morning was to clean the recreation room. This had 8 brass portholes, six tables ,each with four slide away brass ashtrays ,and brass strips on the door way . All of that brassware had to be polished ,the deck had to be swept and washed ,and then it was up to the bridge to polish the port and starboard lights and then the telegraph and compass housing. After that little lot we had to get breakfast for the bosun , lamptrimmer and chippy, like the other meals ,they were four course ,with the appropriate tableware for each course. When they had finished , the pots had to be scrubbed ,you had to find time to get your breakfast, and then you had to scrub the petty officers bathroom, the three cabins and then ,finally, the main cross alleyway ,which was also the engine room entrance. This latter was done on your hands and knees with brillo pads to get off the oily foot marks.. The duckboards from the bathroom had to be holy stoned before it was all set for inspection. This ritual was carried out by the captain ,accompanied by the ships doctor, chief engineer and one passenger . The captain carried a torch and wore one white glove , he would stroke the top of the doors and the underside of tables, randomly , the torch was used to shine into places that were hard to reach, beneath cupboards and under bunks. Sometimes he would put a chalk mark on the inside of a lavatory bowl, unseen by you of course. If there was a smut of dirt on his glove ,or a dull piece of brass, bit of dirt in the far recesses of a cupboard or beneath a bunk, if a chalk mark was still showing ,you would lose a days pay. Sometimes, he put a penny on a shelf that was high up ,or a door ledge, anything in fact to catch a tardy peggy out. He would see the joke if you exchanged the penny for two ha'pennies.
This then was the daily morning grind of a deck boy, come 7.o clock at night we were bushed, a long soak in the bath, do your dhobying and then sit by the men as they chatted about ships and the sea. A boy could sit on the sidelines ,he was'nt expected to join in.
When I went on deck that second morning ,I saw the Eumaeus pulling way from the quay, I felt really sad , I would'nt be spending New Years Eve with the guys I knew. And I still had to face the O.S. who had destroyed my bunk .I went along to his cabin before they turned to after breakfast. He was a big lad ,Norman was his name. " Did you tip my bunk out last night ?" I asked . Looking at me with disbelief written across his face ,he said "What about if I did ?" I replied " I don't mind a joke, but you can stuff your pantomime !" and walked quickly away. His mates had seen what I had just done ,there were bound to be repercussions.
I went ashore with Bootsie and Billo that night, we had a few in the pub outside the dock gates but the mate came in and wagged a finger at us ,out we went. The next night was Hogmanay ,New Years Eve ,the dockers had told us what a fabulous night it would be. So the three of us got decked out in our best gear and made our way to the centre of Govan. People seemed to be in ever such a hurry, we soon found out why, the pubs were shutting after 8.0 clock so that the staff could get home and prepare for the coming festivities. But what about us ? What were we supposed to do until midnight? A slatternly woman came over to me asked if I would first foot them . I asked her what she meant ,and she explained that it was good luck for a dark haired man to be first at the door to bring in the New Year . Looking at my mates I asked them what they thought. Like me, they imagined a booze up and some nosh as well. So I agreed and her husband gave us their address.
It was a bitterly cold night that we exited into from the pub, we walked for ages trying to find somewhere warm to have a drink and pass the time to midnight. Around half past nine we were ready to surrender and go back aboard. This certainly was'nt the way we did New Year at home. Feeling the piece of paper with the family's address on ,I suggested we go there to get out of the cold. It was'nt far from the docks and was on the third floor of an old brownstone tenement block. We were assailed by the smell of boiled cabbage and blocked toilets as we ascended the stairs. We gave the door a hearty rap and the door was opened on to a scene of poverty ,there were grubby faced kids climbing over ragged furniture, there was a mean coal fire glimmering in the grate and the father was supping a beer straight from a bottle. " You're way early man" he said as his wife ushered us into the room. Giving us the once over ,he said "Did you no bring a bottle ?" "No" I replied , Well you can't come in here without a bottle" Hogmanay!!??
The three of us went off to Glasgow town centre, it was still early ,and though the main square was festooned with festive lights ,there was hardly a soul about . There was a chestnut seller at the side of the square so we went over to get a warm by his stove ., Also standing there were some harridans ,there faces overly made up so that they looked like parodies of prostitutes. At least in their fifties ,they were eying us up as potential customers."Would you no like a wee girlie?" one of them wheezed. Jeez, lets get outta here !!! We fled back to the comfort of our cabin ,where all was silent. We still had two full days to go before we left for the continent.

Norman could get me any time..........................