Hullo Old Home

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

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

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

I'd buy that book :)

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

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

Hello. Welcome :)

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

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

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

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

Keep it going Brian.:handclap:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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