Brilliant Samp, now there are two memories, tomorrow double it to four memories and you will be where I started from. It,s only memory..... Kvn
Brilliant Samp, now there are two memories, tomorrow double it to four memories and you will be where I started from. It,s only memory..... Kvn
My secondary modern was in Prinny Eddy too, just like a few others on here. Great stuff lads.
Chippie, I hope you don't mind, I've copied and pasted this onto 18 pages in a word doc and printed it to read and pass on. I really enjoyed your story and the way you tell it
Anyway, thanks for a great read.
Mart
On the Saturday morning the day after leaving school for the last time I felt relieved and free from the invisible chains of institution. Like a canary that had escaped from its cell and found out that it could use its wings to their full potential and fly up and far beyond the prison of its cage.
That day I stayed in bed as late as I could which wasn,t very late as my Uncle Ronnie,s friend came round and, as we both slept in the bed settee in the parlour, we both had to get up so that "Rocky" could have a seat to sit on. Turning the bed back into a settee I got dressed first by putting on my kecks while Uncle Ronnie whizzed his on and legged it down the yard to the lavvy.
Rocky and I talked about me leaving school and what my intentions were now. I told him I was fixed up with a job in a shop in Edge Lane where I was to serve and get to know the electrical trade. I,d been helping a relative for the past year on a Saturday afternoon wiring houses and putting in extra sockets in rooms for televisions or the hoover or putting in cooker lines and things like that. I got just as dirty as Jim the qualified electrician I was helping. I thought I was just as good but fishing cables under floorboards and wiring plugs was not the same as being a good electrician. Mind you it put me in good stead to completly wiring my own house twelve years from this point and saving me hundreds of pounds.
I told Rocky that I was doing a dry run at getting to work that afternoon to see how long it would take me so I could pace myself out to get there in time so I wouldn,t be late.
Ronnie and Rocky had a quick cuppa and they both went out to watch Everton play at home. Ronnie was a mad Evertonian as was all his brothers including my dad and would go to as many matches as money would allow. The money usually coming from pawning his suit for the match money and drinking money.
Ronnie was the last of nan,s kids to be at home and at twenty five didn,t look like moving out in the too near future.
Nan,s house still looked the same as when I had moved there twelve years before, nothing had changed except that there were only two rooms being used fully now, the parlour which doubled up as a bedroom for Ronnie and I and the back bedroom which had always been nan,s bedroom right from the beginning when Charlie and she had moved out of her Parents home two doors up in number 21 and started their new life as a family back in 1936.
The front bedroom and the kitchen were more or less made redundant although the kitchen was still used to cook the Sunday dinner on, providing the money was available for one, on the one gas ring and the fire in the range. It would have been better if we,d have moved all the rubbish from the kitchen into the front bedroom and used the kitchen as the main livingroom where we could have used the heat from the fire on Sundays to warm ourselves, and use the bed settee as a perminant bed in the parlour; but who was I to suggest such a thing being a mere guest and only fifteen?
Later that afternoon I got ready and went on my dry run to the Edge Lane shop. Now from my street I couldn,t get to Edge Lane directly by bus so I figured out a way to get there walking as that was the cheapest form of doing it, and, as my nan had taken me on many a walk in the past some being quite long distances, I thought it wouldn,t kill me to take a leaf out of her book and walk to the shop instead of using money up and walking a distance while doing that.
My first thought was to take as many short cuts as I could to Sheil Road instead of the more direct way of going down Breck Road and turning right into Belmont Road past the old Newsham General Hospital or just Belmont Road Hospital as it was more generally known as, and across West Derby Road/Rocky Lane crossroads.
So I weaved and threaded my way along Whitefield Road and Saxon Street, across West Derby Road into Sheil Park and out the other side into Sheil Road to where the big Victorian houses were. A sure pleasure to behold they were. The lovely huge front doors painted mostly black or some other dark conservative colour with big windows smartly cleaned with long white or cream net curtains. Some had no nets and I would look into the huge front room beyond with their dark furniture and lovely decorated walls with fancy photographs or paintings on. I looked with delight and envy into these rooms as I passed on a daily basis.
I walked along to the end of Sheil Road and crossed Kensington and Prescot Road junction then walked along passed a few streets on the right hand side of the busy road and got away from the noisy traffic popped down Lockerby Road, a quiet street and mishmash of elegant houses and a lovely tall church on the far end of the left hand side which was called St John The Divine. About thirty years from this moment I was to attend this very same church for a short while before moving away from Liverpool for a decade or so.
Turning left into Holly Road and right into Laurel Road passed the old nunnery on the right I eventually came to Edge Lane facing the Automatic Telephone Company across the duel carriageway. This is where the uncle worked who got me the job in the shop that I was about to visit. He made sure that his girls had all the components they needed to keep production of switchgear boxes going each of his eight hour shifts. Apparently the shop floor stunk of new plastic and burning solder all day.
I came to the grocers Fernandes, then to Sayers the cake shop (so fresh we,re famous) next to Lathams the Chemist, and so to "W.S. POWELLS SALES AND SERVICE" so the big red sign stated over the window. I pushed the door open and a cute bell rang, and from beyond the partition a small rosy cheeked lady appeared, looked at me and said,"Hello, can I help you?" in a beautiful Scottish brogue.
I know that "packies" was a common slang name in the Everton area for Packenhams, a scrap metal and rag merchant. The yard I recall was located on the corner of Gordon St and Great Homer St, although they did have other premises in William Henry St. which is roughly the location "chippie" refers to. I'm not sure if it became a scrap car yard during the 1970's.
Thanks to Ged for the William Henry St. correction.
The Packenham businesses extended to Bootle and were an essential part of the community at that time. Rifkins is another name I recollect, essentially a rag sorting building where one of my many aunties worked. Part of the attractions of working there were that workers got their pick of the best items. When asked where she got her new dress from my Aunty Mary would invariably answer "Bin Brand".
Cheers,
Chas
Last edited by chasevans; 08-31-2009 at 01:44 PM. Reason: corrections
I think there was one on William Henry Street too. On the corner of Soho Street was Louis Caplan's sweet shop where my mam got me my weekly dose of comics, he was an ex Lord Mayor. Then there was Charlie Pepper's Bookies then Packenham's rag and vone yard as I recall. Facing was Morris's grocers which is still there today and featured on the people and places page of my site.
You're right Ged. I don't know where I came up with Gt. Howard St., Must be a slip of the brain. I'll edit my original post accordingly. Thanks.
Last edited by chasevans; 08-31-2009 at 07:09 PM. Reason: correction, used thread, meant post
6/10 Chippie,you'll never write a book though.
You must try and ephasize on why,what,when and how things happen.
Lets take this start for instance...
"On the Saturday morning the day after leaving school for the last time I felt relieved and free from the invisible chains of institution. "
How many times have actually really left school? As far as I know everyone that attends school only LEAVES school once.
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