Liverpool,land of my childhood
Well,we got to Liverpool on the 28th.No disappointments to report.
We drove in through from Runcorn,so that we could see the Airport and Bryant and Mays,both of which played a big part in my childhood.
It was free to go into the airport then, and we children would sit on the balcony for hours,watching and dreaming.We would wonder where those silver birds were flying to,they were all propeller driven and glamorous.
Bryant and Mays was where Mum and big sister worked,we lived in the tenements across the road,and,when the works hooter sounded a flood of green overalled,white turbanned women would spill across the road and through the gates.I cannot watch Chigley with my grandchildren without being reminded of the matchworks.
We drove on through Garston and Grassendale, where I had my first job as a paperboy.I delivered to all those beautiful big houses in the Serpentine and surrounding avenues.
As we passed along Aigburth Rd.,on our way to Sefton Park,I called to mind a time when I was an errand boy for Appletons hardware store in St. Marys Rd. in Garston.
I had one of those bikes with a basket in front,and one very cold winter Saturday, my boss Mr. Moore,told me he had a big order for the Nurses Home in Grassendale;a 2 trip job!
Well,I loaded up for my first trip,the basket was so full and my load so heavy that I had to stand on my pedals just to keep moving.The bitterly cold wind was biting into my cheeks and I was frozen stiff by the time I got there. The cooks were busy getting lunch ready for the nurses as I cycled back for my second load.The second trip was even worse, for the wind had strengthened and I was really at the limit of my powers................
I arrived in a cold and frozen heap,the kitchen window was opened and through it came the aroma of steak pudding,boiled potatoes,gravy and carrots etc. etc.
The cook took one look at my frozen physog and asked " Are you hungry son?"My heart leapt! "Yes" I replied.She disappeared into the kitchen and my head filled with visions of a steaming feast.She returned,"ere yar"she said ,handing me a single spring onion!!
Back to Saturday,we went on through Sefton Park and I was thrilled to see that the houses surrounding the park were being refurbished.My memory of them was of dereliction and decay.The last time I was in the Park was as part of a contingent of Birmingham Trade Unionist's,taking part in the start of the Peoples March for Jobs.Days of Hope eh!
You know,I've got so many memories from that park alone that I fear I will bore you all rigid ,so I'll stop right here,because if I move beyond those Park gates and into Lodge Lane,I'll end up being barred from the site.
Geez, my head is spinning with so many stories that want to be told.
Thanks for reading so far
BrianD
Going back to my beginnings
I am a child of a mixed marriage,something that is not given a thought nowadays,but in 1940 it was considered outrageous.
Mum was from a protestant family,and Dad a catholic one.Seems hard to believe now,but it near tore both families apart.
They were very much in love,and could not be dissuaded from seeing each other.My Mum had the support of her elder brother ,through whom she met Dad.All of Dads family were set against the marriage,the parish priest used to rail against Dad.But their love for each other held firm,and they decided against a church wedding,and got wed in a registry office instead.
This upset both families,they were to be considered as living in sin and for the first few years of married life were ostracised by all but a few brave siblings.
When my sister was born in 1940 ,Mum allowed her to be baptised a catholic,as a sop to her mother in law.
In '42,when I turned up,my parents decided,in view of the anger that the protestants felt in my sister being made a catholic,determined that I was to be left "Unchurched"
So, after making my debut in Stanley Rd. hospital,I was taken home to Mum and Dads rooms in Medlock St.
I was 11 pounds at birth and my poor old mother was confined to bed to get over her ordeal.
On her third day in bed,my Dads 15 year old brother turned up and asked Mum if she would like him to take me for an outing in my pram so that she could have a rest.She was really pleased that he could be so thoughtful ,and said yes.
What she was not to know was that my Nin,the catholic grandma,was waiting at the bottom of the street with her hubby and various offspring,all in their best Sunday clothes.They were off to a christening.......,mine!
I was returned by my uncle, none the worse for wear,but with a baptismal certificate pinned to the coverlet.
When the protestants learned of this,in their minds,infamy,I was taken for another walk by a protestant aunt,this time returning with an anglican baptismal cerificate.
My early childhood was spent pretending that I was a catholic with one side and a protestant with the other.I can enjoy the humour of it now,but it was a lot to cope with then.
I learned to love my mixed family,it was a lot more interesting than being on the one side.I did not get confirmed in any of the faiths,I believe in God,but not in religion.
I'll post some more some time,
BrianD
A short note to the "milkman"
Hi Ernie,
I found this site through one of the postings on The Sailors Home,and I agree with you,its a great site.You could spend a lifetime on it and still not have enough time to see all that is on here.My wife is about to do me for desertion because I spend so much time on the P.C..
Who would'nt when you meet so many nice people on here.
Are you going to Sharpness next week? I am ,and if you are I'll keep a look out for you.
Keep posting,cheers
BrianD