Hullo Old Home

[brian daley]

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]

So am I, so am I....

[brian daley]

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]

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]

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

[brian daley]

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]

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

[John(Zappa)]

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.

[John(Zappa)]

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

are you drunk ? All day ?

[brian daley]

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]

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

[brian daley]

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.
I want to thank you all who are giving your gifts,you will never know the feeling I get from knowing that my words have given someone,somewhere,pleasure.I love writing for you,I feel grateful for the interest you have shown.And I hope your Mum is getting on now Sweetcheeks.Thank you Lindylou, Chrizmiz and everyone else out there.
I'll be posting some more very soon,
BrianD

[CHRISMIZ]

Looking forward to hearing more Brian. I'm hooked

[Waterways]

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]

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