Hiya Chippie
Brilliant , lovely to read .:hug:
Karen
Printable View
Hiya Chippie
Brilliant , lovely to read .:hug:
Karen
Camping in the nude, eh, Chippie? :shock:
Excellent read. :handclap:
Now Philip I might have expected that from you, but thanks for the comment and you Karen, my mentor Brian, and Tony and Lindy. I am pleased the way the whole thing is going at the moment. Looks like one more year to go at school and then I have to continue and finish my life story on another channel after all the filth in my childhood, here is even more filth to come. But enough of me visiting massage parlours, ha ha. It was a joke, honest!
The feedback gives me more confidence to do more thank you all. I wonder is Mrs ChrisGeorge still reading it or has her pinz nez clouded up!
Cheers all. xxx:hug:
Quote:
Originally Posted by PhilipG
Loitering within tent :ninja:
Oh is that what they call it nowadays, that,s a big word for playing:unibrow:
In tense stuff coming out here.
or even past tents!
Everyone stop CANVASing for replies:)
Thank you for the 'walk to school' Your story has been very moving. I was in the Olive Mount hospital in 1945 and I remember the little cottages there with children 'who had no family' as I was told.
Chippie,
I enjoyed your work. You write with honesty, which is a joy to read.
Ed
Chippie - your writings have evoked so many more memories for me! - we coulda been around at the same time! My haunts were all round the Breck Road/Boundary Lane/ Queens Road and I remember going to the Royal 'picture house' once where they were having a Yo Yo contest - there must have been about 200 children all queuing right round the corner into Breckfield Road South - I think it was run by some Americans. That would be about 1961/62. I also saw the film 'Tammy ' there with my mum. You know it was turned into a Bingo Hall. Shame.
I remember Addison's toy shop well - I pestered my mum to buy me a little pink plastic tea set 'because my best friend Carole Benn had one!' Do you remember the big drapers', Stoker's on the corner of Breckfield Road North? And further the other way, towards Heyworth Street, was a small Ethel Austin's where mum used to buy her wool.
Chippie - are you putting all your memories into a book? Have you got pictures?? Keep writing!!!
Hi sfarley, sorry to butt in on your comments to Chippie, but I remember some of the things you mentioned too. The Royal picturehouse is now a furniture store.
I remember Addisons and Stokers. I vaguely remember the small Ethel Austins, but it's the other ones I remember more clearly - there were a few Ethel Austins around the area; there was one further down Breck rd - on the other side from the George pub, also one on Walton Breck rd - along past LFC.
The more recent one is up by the Royal but is due to close down soon along with all the other Ethels that are shutting down (shame really - it's the end of an era).
NOT TO BE READ BY ANYONE UNDER SIXTEEN
Well it was the last day of schoolin my entire life, which wasn,t strictly true as I was to go on to Technical College at Riversdale Tech., in my first job as a television engineer. But for all intents and purposes, today was the final day in Prince Rupert Secondary School for Boys, Margaret Street, Everton. It was the 15th. July 1967, the sweetest day of all my schooldays, and the last.
Today was going to be a right fun day with a play that I was in as a country yokel in a pub drinking an alcoholic beverage called "nut brown," supposingly anyway: And I had an act where I was to do a card trick where I would guess the the card correctly of anyone in the audience. I was pretty pleased with myself and happy this hot summer morning as I had a quick swill in the back kitchen sink and swished the cold water around my face neck and hair then dried myselfwith a holey towel and combed my hair with the large half toothless green comb that the three of us used, me, my gran and her last child, my Uncle Ronnie.
I had my black long trousers that had lasted me all year after moaning to nan to get me a pair and she surprised me the day before slipping me the T J Hughes bag. I was chuffed, over the moon, exstatic that I could be like the rest of my schoolfriends and wear long trousers instead of the schoolboy grey shorts I,d been wearing all my born schooldays up till now. I felt quite grown up in my grown up kecks especially as I never wore any underpants because nan couldn,t afford to buy me any, and her philosophy was, "what the world don,t see, it won,t worry about," Looking down at my bulge, I felt quite the man!
After all I was to be the vice captain of the school in my final year, "vice" being a thoroughly adequate title looking back. How could I have street credability ordering first and second years around or chastising third and fourth years lads, wearing flippin, short trousers?
Anyway, I had my black trousers, black blazer with my new "prefect stripes" and vice captain shield badge, black socks and shoes that I had thoroughly polished the night before with Uncle Ronnie,s shoe polish. I even had a new shirt and a new jersey that nan had knitted me, but after the first week or so asked her to take the sleeves off as they looked "hand made, or nan made" as I told her.
I had a cuppa tea and a piece of stale bread toast and out as quickly and as happy as I ever had been in all my schooldays over the last ten years. Down Dessy across Breck Road and into the sweet shop on the corner of Fishguard Street. Never knew the name of it, but used to go there on occasions to buy sweets or chewing gum. Down Fishguard and Sarah Streets by the end of the steep sides of the red sandstone water reservoir building, then across Aubrey Street and into the alleyway leading into Spencer Street where I turned left and across the roadway and knocked on one of my friends house, who was also to become a prefect for our last year, David Grogan. Crumbs on his jacket and sporting his prefect stripes, with a big grin on his face and combing his dark brown hair, he joined me walking along his street chattering away full of dread, anxiety and expectations of what the term will be like. We turned right into Reservoir Street and over the roadway on the side of the corporation yard where all the street cleaners were collecting their barrows and brushes to go to their allotted areas. We turned left into the alleyway between the corpy yard and the baths where we could smell the familliar clorined water coming out of the open dirty wired glass windows of Margaret Street Baths where my Uncle Ronnie went once a week to get a hot bath. We went here once a week too over the last three years or for me it was weakly because I was still terrified of being in the water either on my own or with somebody. We crossed over Margaret Street and into our senior entrance. I was glad the school had this entrance that was nearer to my home if ever I was pushed for time. The junior entrance being a few minutes away up the street, past the sweet shop that sold loose ciggarettes to the kids with two free matches. Turning left into Mill Road along the wire fence that always reminded me of those concentration camps in the John Mills war films; and into the huge wire gates, across the yard, up the few steps and into the building.
There was a happy buzz in the air today because we knew that there were no lessons, and for all us fourth years, it would be a dream, a milestone in our lives; and for most of us, we would never see each other again in our entire lives. These thoughts were amongst us prefects as we sat on the stage as we normaly did with the head or whoever was taking the service and pep talk.
It had been a very interesting final year for me, and maybe a few more of my school pals, along the way; Only they would know. Who knows what went on in their lives out of school. Most of us had two separate lives anyway, in school and at home in the environment around our homes with our individual friends.
My strange new world started a week before my final year at school. I was fifteen in the third month of that year but I was still hanging around with the same few friends that I always had done, all younger than me. A lad in the flats at the bottom of the street came on the scene at this time. He never had wanted to join us before even though he lived in such close proximity to us. He went his own way with his own friends; Let,s call him Ricky. He started playing with us and hanging around us. One day we were playing hide and seek and us kids dispersed all over the place. Up till now my favourite hiding place was shinning up one of the entrys in our street and sitting on someone,s lavatory roof, no one could find me up there. Ricky told me that he had this terrific hiding place and I was to follow him. It turned out to be a meter cupboard in his flats under the stairs. He managed to get a yale key that fitted and it was his den and favourite hiding place. I followed him in and closed the door behind us. I was quite excited about this hiding place as it was easier to get to than my other favourite one. We heard the sound of footsteps of kids running through the flats changing their hiding places, and then silence. I had my hand on the lock of the door holding it ajar to get some light into it and to keep a lookout. I could hear someone pattering about in the hallway, a resident. I closed the door. It was then that Ricky took my hand and put it on his crotch. I thought, "what,s going on here?" He rubbed it up and down his trousers and I could feel he was well excited. With his other hand he unzipped himself and put my hand inside (CENSORED)
I didn,t know how I should feel, I was perplexed to say the least, it was a new experience for me, but I didn,t feel threatened in any way or scared of the situation that I found myself in; I just went along with it and see what happened.
After awhile the incident was over and we got out of the cupboard, not a word had been spoken throughout. We went back to our street to join the rest of the gang. I thought about the episode a lot that night and over the next few days gave it much thought. Another time soon after that Ricky openly played with himself in front of a few of us and I watched the reaction of the rest of the group who seemed to think that it was ok, and that they themselves did it quite often albeit, on their own and in their bedrooms. Now with this lad and his open mindedness, some more of our group joined him in his pleasure as it seemed that it was quite a natural thing to do and that all lads our age were doing it away from prying eyes, but doing it none the less. So it was with a lighter heart and clearer mind that I too joined my friends and (CENSORED)
To be continued, if permissable...................:ninja:
Chippie,you have described ,with great delicacy,the rite of passage that all young adolescents pass through in their middle teens;perhaps even earlier now. The weight of guilt that descends on a young boys shoulders is borne for many years,ending ,happily when that lad is helped into manhood by his first true girl friend. I don't think anyone could object with how well you wriitten about this issue ,keep it up (no pun intended),
BrianD
There wasn,t much I can recall from the final year at school that wasn,t of a sexual nature but looking through my old report book I see that when I started at Prince Rupert I was just an average kind of pupil with average exam results, first year English I came eighteenth fourth year English I was second. Maths was always a bad subject with me I,m afraid with just average right through the four years. My best subject was forign languages where I was always in the top five. Looking back, it was this four year grounding that did me proud when I went over to Germany twice. The first time back in the seventies to visit my sister and brother in law who were medics in the army, and during my European tour in 1995 when I went with two colleagues from the mod. My German training along with my gestures and sign language training got us all through the hazards of going to a foreign country, but we had a good laugh and that,s what it was all about.
My academic achievements at Prince Rupert saw that I left with passes in English, maths, social studies and science. I had 100% punctuality for four years for which I have a certificate, and one for being in the music group and choir where I oftimes played either the recorder or treble. My gran tried to teach me the piano and I can honestly say without fear of contradiction that I can play it like Winifred Atwell,s blind cat.
I loved that last year mostly because I could get out of most lessons I didn,t want to do like swimming, the bane of my life. Mr Corlett shouted, bawled and threatened, but still I could not overcome my fear of the water. I felt daft, my dad and his dad, and all dad,s brothers all being in the seafaring fraternity they commonly, and very proudly call, the Merchant Navy. I just couldn,t get myself to feel safe in the baths. I did swim a length with a bloody big rope round my waist and half an inch away from the bar at the side of the bath, but the fear was always there. I asked a colleague magistrate friend of mine in later life to take me to Margaret Street Baths (before they pulled it down) and have a go at teaching me to overcome my fear, and having swam half a length on my own without assistance, I still wasn,t happy in the water, and I,m afraid that still stands today: Why I wouldn,t even have the gaul to put on a swimming costume costume today the state of my big belly. Last time I put a cossie on and sat on the li lo in the garden I could see all the neighbours curtains twitching and muffled laughter, no blatent laughter coming from within their houses...no never again.
The days were much better in school the final year, life a doddle. My fear of certain teachers gone and respect there instead. The lads were brilliant and I got on with everybody and they with me. There was no bullying in our class and not one of my friends bullied any junior pupil either. We all have our favourite friends in school and I was no exception, mine were, in no particular order were; Albert Boyd who lived in Everton Terrace and like Peter Cook and Dudley Moore as his favourite comedians and used to come into class and tell us jokes and sketches from the previous nights programme. His laughter was infectious. Then there was David Grogan from Spencer Street not far from the corpy yard and Paul Breen who lived in Greenside by the collegiate, John Bennett, my cousin who lived in Mackensie Street off Breck Road.
Now I have some fond memories of John,s house as my nan and any of my dad,s brothers who were at home from the sea at the time could tell you, the parties we had were legendary. Us kids would be upstairs drinking whatever the men brought back in crates from the nearest pub. We would sneak down and take bottles of brown ale or pale ale whatever was going and take it upstairs and have our own party. Dennis Higham was a good laugh too from Druid Street. I,m not sure if his dad was alive at the time of his schooldays at Margaret Street. Then there was Robert Jones, the head boy from Caird Street. He wasn,t called the head boy for nothing, he would have fitted in at Eton or Harrow. Tont Merritt from Fitzclarence Street, Tommy Evans from Phoebe Anne Street, Danny Peters from Rupert Lane whose dad had a building firm, George Wilks from Cresswell Street; Oh the memories of the laughs us lads had at school and the streets we lived in, long since gone with the echoes of our laughter, never to be heard of again. In fact here is an extract from a mail from George Wilks who recently had this to say about his home: "You are aware that I lived in Cresswell Street from birth until 1965, and, whilst there neither electricity nor gas and only a water tap in the back yard. The house was in such a state quite simply because it had already been condemned 25 years before, hence the property had smashed windows and a leaking roof. My life consisted of parafin globe wall lamps and a battery operated radio for entertainment."
I didn,t know that anywhere could be as bad as my growing up in Desmond Street but George has stated that he had no gas lighting as we had, but had to live with the equally unpleasant smell of parafin lamps as their main source of light at night and dark days too.
Another childhood friend, Peter wrote." Yes I lived over the wallpaper shop in Heyworth Street and corner of Desmond Street until I was 11 and then moved to Lombard Street which was opposite Barker and Dobsons sweet factory in Whitefield Road (aaarhhhh remember the smell of the sweets) It was a good move as we finally got a toilet (outside) and it was close to Margaret Street Baths so I could have a bath once a week, happy days eh?! He he."
Anyway the final day in school, we had a great day. The play went down a treat with me dressed as a country yokel, yeh I know, I,m still dressed as one 43 years later. And the card trick failed miserably when the audience knew how it worked because they had brothers who had been in the school before them and told them that there was a lookout with a pair of binoculars reading the cards from a hidden place at the back of the hall. I was sussed out and jeered at that one. The rendition of a sweet sad country song of a child dying was beefed up with over riding movements and props was the best act of the entire show and went down very well, and, overall it proved to be one of the best days of my life, certainly my school life. And after all the acts were over and done and the cheering had subsided, then the head Mr Dai Williams wished us fourth year leavers a hearty farewell and the best of luck in our life ahead as young men and of breadwinners in some households. He gave us his blessing as did some of our form teachers who were around.
We said our goodbyes to our fellow friends and pupils and after such a short hectic school letting out for summer holidays period was over, there was a deathly silence around the school. As one of the prefects I stayed around to see the pupils off the premises and slowly walked out of the school, across the playground, put my prefects cuffbands in the bin by the gate, turned to give the school one last look from outside and walked home alone for the first time in my school life, with no jabbering kid beside me; I had tears in my eyes leaving Margaret Street for the last time going through the alleyways and short cuts home and into the future as a wage earning adult.:034::002::PDT_Xtremez_12::hug:
You've excelled yourself there Chippie - an enthralling read :PDT11
I laughed at the vision of you in the water with a rope around your waist ! (and all the seafarers in your family too ! ha,ha.) :D
I know you won't mind me laughing 'cos as you know, I am petrified of the water as well :)
John Bennett - now then, was it his sister who sat next to me in school ? Ruth ?
Or am I getting mixed up with someone else ?
Hi Chippie, a very good read, I would love to have a good memory similar to yours but my wife can remember any evening in the past 40 years when I stayed out until the pubs closed. I lived off Hayworth St for a period in the late 50's and early 60's and I do recall having some good times in the local pubs, the Garrick and Northumberland come to mind but there are many more. Cheers Bobby
Chippie lah, you did good, excellent even. When does the adult story start?.:PDT_Aliboronz_24:
Chippie,you evoked the memories,both funny and tender,so wonderfully well,your children will love you even more when they read of just how humane you were,given the odds that you struggled against.Don't stop now!!
Best Wishes ,
BrianD
Super Stuff Chippie:handclap:
Thank you for sharing it with us.
an excellent read Chippie ,thanks for sharing your memories :PDT_Piratz_26:
Chippie! I have been reading your story for the last couple of hours! I agree with all the comments and praise given by other members. It was open and honest and written in a way that made it compelling reading. You should get it into print, its far better than some already published.
You have given me the incentive to carry on with my humble attempt.
Sfarley;
We were around Breckfield at the same time though I was too young to notice most things going on around me other than buying bulls eyes and pear drops. I knew the Royal turned into a bingo club too...I was the under manager there in the early 70s. There,s a photo somewhere on Yo of the drapers shop in its pale blue paintwork. I am putting my memories down to go into a book sometime, but at this time I,ve been motivated into looking more into my family tree and I,m busy surfing the internet and meeting people connected with that project. Thank you for your support.
Brian Daley; thanks again for your interest and your motovating me into picking up a pen and getting down to it. I,ll stay tuned to you.
Lindy; I,ll get you back for laughing at me, yes it was Ruth Bennett,s brother John who I was talking about. Wrote to John last year but perhaps he,s not a writer.
Tony; It,s a pleasure to test my stuff out on you all at Yo.
Mandy; Thank you for your support too over the last year, you,re cracker.
Samp;
Hello I,m not too familiar with you, sorry. thank you for reading my story at one time I couldn,t go on with the tears streaming down my face and I had to pack it in. When you,ve been dragged up from the gutter and been part of the circus I,ve been, emotions run very high remembering the times of fruit and the times of famine. I remember the table with a white cloth on it and the daddies sauce bottle with the guff all around the rim of the bottle, the open sugar bowl with the flies landing in it every few seconds along with the uncut loaf that was hard and stale and the melting echo margarine full of crumbs as was the whole cloth. If there was no food to eat at mealtimes I would have a spoonful of sugar to help keep the hunger at bay. Such were the poor in our house Samp. Thank you for your kind comments, but let me tell you that it was Brian Daley,s story that got me going, AND, he,s still at it (writing his story that it!) give him a read, it may proove to your liking too. Please carry on with your attempt too even if it takes ages or years to do, put your thoughts down before they are gone. Good luck, looking forward to seeing a page or two on Yo, yes?
Shytalk;
The adult version comes out in paperback entitled, "Chippie get,s his wood out and Wickles it!" Watch out for it in the News of the World next week.... thanks mate, cheers. Kvn:hug:
Guess who Knows Ruth Bennet and all very well?
Yep me...She worked with my mum for years.I know John too,Will have to call him myself!
Small world eh.
Chippie! Even in your answering reply you are still telling your story, (the source bottle and the flies in the sugar.) you have a natural gift for remembering detail. Keep at it.
As to knowing me, I was born down the hill from you in Prince Edwin St (Prinny Eddy!) in 1941. Schools were Prince Edwin Primary, St Peters Juniors and Roscommon St Secondary modern. One of my mates may have been the brother of the Chris Felton you mentioned.
Here is a short extract of my efforts. Nowhere as detailed or as lively as you story.
Cheers Samp!
- There was much evidence of the Second World War in my earlier years. Opposite our house there were air raid shelters set into the ground, about a dozen shelters extending up and down the street, built on the site of demolished houses similar to the house we lived in. (These houses were demolished to make way for a road scheme that never developed). The air raid shelters had a set of steps leading down to the entrance. At the other end of the shelter was an emergency exit under a large slab of concrete, under the slab was an iron ladder leading down into the shelter.
Some of the other streets had air raid shelters in the middle of the street, these were built of brick with a thick concrete roof, and they had an entrance at both ends, inside were bunks around the walls made out of angle iron. Many of the houses had paper crosses stuck diagonally across the windows; this was supposed to stop the glass from flying everywhere during the blitz.
Also around the district on pieces of waste land were built huge brick Emergency water tanks, the walls were six to eight feet high with EWS written in huge white letters on the walls, they were filled with water to be used in an emergency if any water mains were fractured by the bombing, these were still in evidence long after the war was over. They were the playgrounds for many of the kids after the war. One such water tank at the back of Moorefield’s in the town centre, had an old wooden garage door floating in it, this was used as a raft by the kids and many times you would see some kid fall into the water, to be quickly hauled back on board to keep the raft steady. Nobody drowned; this was part of the learning to swim process. Of course we had to explain the wet clothes when we finely came home.
I think the basement of ‘Blacklers Store’ was converted into a water tank after it was burnt out in a bombing raid.
Another time I can remember in one of the nearby streets a man had obtained a large amount of old army rifle stocks, the wooden part which you held to your shoulder, the wooden section also extended some way along the length of the barrel, we could buy these for three pence each. All the kids in the district were marching around with these rifle stocks over their shoulders.
One incident I look back on with amusement. The school had organised a week’s holiday in Wales and I was lucky enough to go, unfortunately; nobody in the family had a spare suitcase. Mam took me down to a local (surplus) shop in William Henry Street, and I was fixed up with a rucksack which I could carry on my back (like you do when you go camping). I set off to school with the rucksack over my shoulders to catch the bus for the holiday. (Nobody told me it was an old surplus R.A.F. parachute sack complete with yards of strings and straps hanging down the back and trailing the floor, they were supposed to come up under your crutch and fasten at the front!). However, I was the envy of most of the class when they found out what it was.
Brilliant Samp, now there are two memories, tomorrow double it to four memories and you will be where I started from. It,s only memory.....:hug: Kvn
My secondary modern was in Prinny Eddy too, just like a few others on here. Great stuff lads.
Chippie, I hope you don't mind, I've copied and pasted this onto 18 pages in a word doc and printed it to read and pass on. I really enjoyed your story and the way you tell it :handclap:
Anyway, thanks for a great read.
Mart
Your school playground was on the site of our house! It's a pity the teachers didn't do a time team dig there. you would have found our old cellar kitchen.Quote:
Originally Posted by Ged
Thanks Chippie. There is more but I dont have the flow with words like you.Quote:
Originally Posted by chippie
On the Saturday morning the day after leaving school for the last time I felt relieved and free from the invisible chains of institution. Like a canary that had escaped from its cell and found out that it could use its wings to their full potential and fly up and far beyond the prison of its cage.
That day I stayed in bed as late as I could which wasn,t very late as my Uncle Ronnie,s friend came round and, as we both slept in the bed settee in the parlour, we both had to get up so that "Rocky" could have a seat to sit on. Turning the bed back into a settee I got dressed first by putting on my kecks while Uncle Ronnie whizzed his on and legged it down the yard to the lavvy.
Rocky and I talked about me leaving school and what my intentions were now. I told him I was fixed up with a job in a shop in Edge Lane where I was to serve and get to know the electrical trade. I,d been helping a relative for the past year on a Saturday afternoon wiring houses and putting in extra sockets in rooms for televisions or the hoover or putting in cooker lines and things like that. I got just as dirty as Jim the qualified electrician I was helping. I thought I was just as good but fishing cables under floorboards and wiring plugs was not the same as being a good electrician. Mind you it put me in good stead to completly wiring my own house twelve years from this point and saving me hundreds of pounds.
I told Rocky that I was doing a dry run at getting to work that afternoon to see how long it would take me so I could pace myself out to get there in time so I wouldn,t be late.
Ronnie and Rocky had a quick cuppa and they both went out to watch Everton play at home. Ronnie was a mad Evertonian as was all his brothers including my dad and would go to as many matches as money would allow. The money usually coming from pawning his suit for the match money and drinking money.
Ronnie was the last of nan,s kids to be at home and at twenty five didn,t look like moving out in the too near future.
Nan,s house still looked the same as when I had moved there twelve years before, nothing had changed except that there were only two rooms being used fully now, the parlour which doubled up as a bedroom for Ronnie and I and the back bedroom which had always been nan,s bedroom right from the beginning when Charlie and she had moved out of her Parents home two doors up in number 21 and started their new life as a family back in 1936.
The front bedroom and the kitchen were more or less made redundant although the kitchen was still used to cook the Sunday dinner on, providing the money was available for one, on the one gas ring and the fire in the range. It would have been better if we,d have moved all the rubbish from the kitchen into the front bedroom and used the kitchen as the main livingroom where we could have used the heat from the fire on Sundays to warm ourselves, and use the bed settee as a perminant bed in the parlour; but who was I to suggest such a thing being a mere guest and only fifteen?
Later that afternoon I got ready and went on my dry run to the Edge Lane shop. Now from my street I couldn,t get to Edge Lane directly by bus so I figured out a way to get there walking as that was the cheapest form of doing it, and, as my nan had taken me on many a walk in the past some being quite long distances, I thought it wouldn,t kill me to take a leaf out of her book and walk to the shop instead of using money up and walking a distance while doing that.
My first thought was to take as many short cuts as I could to Sheil Road instead of the more direct way of going down Breck Road and turning right into Belmont Road past the old Newsham General Hospital or just Belmont Road Hospital as it was more generally known as, and across West Derby Road/Rocky Lane crossroads.
So I weaved and threaded my way along Whitefield Road and Saxon Street, across West Derby Road into Sheil Park and out the other side into Sheil Road to where the big Victorian houses were. A sure pleasure to behold they were. The lovely huge front doors painted mostly black or some other dark conservative colour with big windows smartly cleaned with long white or cream net curtains. Some had no nets and I would look into the huge front room beyond with their dark furniture and lovely decorated walls with fancy photographs or paintings on. I looked with delight and envy into these rooms as I passed on a daily basis.
I walked along to the end of Sheil Road and crossed Kensington and Prescot Road junction then walked along passed a few streets on the right hand side of the busy road and got away from the noisy traffic popped down Lockerby Road, a quiet street and mishmash of elegant houses and a lovely tall church on the far end of the left hand side which was called St John The Divine. About thirty years from this moment I was to attend this very same church for a short while before moving away from Liverpool for a decade or so.
Turning left into Holly Road and right into Laurel Road passed the old nunnery on the right I eventually came to Edge Lane facing the Automatic Telephone Company across the duel carriageway. This is where the uncle worked who got me the job in the shop that I was about to visit. He made sure that his girls had all the components they needed to keep production of switchgear boxes going each of his eight hour shifts. Apparently the shop floor stunk of new plastic and burning solder all day.
I came to the grocers Fernandes, then to Sayers the cake shop (so fresh we,re famous) next to Lathams the Chemist, and so to "W.S. POWELLS SALES AND SERVICE" so the big red sign stated over the window. I pushed the door open and a cute bell rang, and from beyond the partition a small rosy cheeked lady appeared, looked at me and said,"Hello, can I help you?" in a beautiful Scottish brogue.
I know that "packies" was a common slang name in the Everton area for Packenhams, a scrap metal and rag merchant. The yard I recall was located on the corner of Gordon St and Great Homer St, although they did have other premises in William Henry St. which is roughly the location "chippie" refers to. I'm not sure if it became a scrap car yard during the 1970's.
Thanks to Ged for the William Henry St. correction.
The Packenham businesses extended to Bootle and were an essential part of the community at that time. Rifkins is another name I recollect, essentially a rag sorting building where one of my many aunties worked. Part of the attractions of working there were that workers got their pick of the best items. When asked where she got her new dress from my Aunty Mary would invariably answer "Bin Brand".
Cheers,
Chas
I think there was one on William Henry Street too. On the corner of Soho Street was Louis Caplan's sweet shop where my mam got me my weekly dose of comics, he was an ex Lord Mayor. Then there was Charlie Pepper's Bookies then Packenham's rag and vone yard as I recall. Facing was Morris's grocers which is still there today and featured on the people and places page of my site.
You're right Ged. I don't know where I came up with Gt. Howard St., Must be a slip of the brain. I'll edit my original post accordingly. Thanks.
6/10 Chippie,you'll never write a book though.
You must try and ephasize on why,what,when and how things happen.
Lets take this start for instance...
"On the Saturday morning the day after leaving school for the last time I felt relieved and free from the invisible chains of institution. "
How many times have actually really left school? As far as I know everyone that attends school only LEAVES school once.
George, don't worry about it. Chippie ain't a member anymore :)Quote:
Originally Posted by George
Ok,don't ya hate it when these people dig up the past. :rolleyes:Quote:
Originally Posted by scouse smurf
Anyway methinks Chippie left school far to early.
Some of the Packenham family lived next door to my Gran on Phythian St in Kensington.Quote:
Originally Posted by chasevans