Hullo Old Home

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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........................

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.

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

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.

enthralling and entertaining stuff as always Brian :handclap:

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

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:

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.

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Originally Posted by shytalk

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:

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what's the SH site ?

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

oh, ok :)

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.

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Originally Posted by Ged

I assume the Scouse House site -

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

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..

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Originally Posted by shytalk

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

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WHAT!!

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

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 :) :)

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Hello Brian

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

Chris

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ChrisGeorge

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:

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 .

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:

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.

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.

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 !

Thanks Brian for continuing the story :PDT11 :)

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!

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