Hullo Old Home

[brian daley]

The Wedding
I left the Acclivity on the 4th of September 1968, I still had the bulk of my pay off from the Demeterton, plus my pay off from the lard boat, so I was going home like jolly jack ,a kit bag full of presents and a pocketful of tin.
I spent a couple of days at home with the folks and got to see most of my relatives in the short time I spent there. I could’nt wait to get down to Oswestry, Roger, the guy I sailed with just 12 months ago, had asked me to be his best man and I wanted to find out just what was expected of me.
I took the train from Central Station ,it was pulled by a diesel engine, dirty and smelly ,you felt you were really travelling on them. I had to change at Birkenhead, and then it was off down through Cheshire and parts of Wales. I was fascinated by how little the countryside had changed ,it was harvest time and we could see the combine harvesters reaping the corn ,leaving the fields looking like carpets of gold.
I forget how long the journey took ,but it was relaxing just watching the different
fields and the hive of activity taking place within them.
Roger met me at the station in Oswestry and we walked to his house .
I was situated in Park Avenue ,which was full of tall ,three storey houses. They were late Victorian and seemed very spacious. It was one of the last roads in the town and the road we walked from the town on, led on past the avenue up into the countryside.
Rogers family were all at home when we arrived and I was given a very warm welcome. His dad seemed a lot older than his mum and his younger sister ,who was about 15 was very pleasant. I was shown to my room ,up on the third floor and I had a good wash and unpacked before going down to join the family for dinner.
The meal was most agreeable, we were sat at a large old fashioned table with plenty of room. The napery was perfect and the whole room was filled with gifts that had been brought home by the sailor son, the dining room window faced west ,and it was very soothing to watch the sky change from blue to gold as the sun got lower in the western horizon.
After dinner ,Roger, his dad ,and I strolled down to the town to visit their favourite watering holes where I was introduced to lots of different people. There was a warmth amongst those people for strangers and it made for a lovely night.
Closing time found us being tipped out at 10.30pm and we made our way back to Park Avenue beneath the light of a Harvest Moon.
Rogers mum had a fine spread ready for when we got in ,and Roger had a surprise for me too. As we sat eating our supper, he handed me a little booklet. It’s cover bore the legend ,”The Duties of a Best Man”. He pointed out my duties, the best man paid for the wedding service, the hire of the morning suits for the groom ,father and ushers and the wedding limousines. At first I thought it was a joke, how wrong could I be. Roger had me scheduled to go to the hire shop and organise the suits , and then to the wedding car place to hire three big Humber Super Snipes, and then, finally, to the little church in Gobowen were I paid for the service. Thank god I’d had a good pay off.
Apart from the expenses, I was having a great time down there ,Roger had left the Merchant Navy and had trained up as a refrigeration engineer with Prestcold. He now had a van and was doing servicing on the commercial side ,shops and factories , he said he was making a fortune on the side because he quite often condemned fridges and sold the owner a new one, he would take the old one away, no charge, he would take it to a lock up garage ,where he would fix it and then sell it on to another shop for a good price.
His parents were ignorant of that little racket ,but he was putting his ill gotten gains to good use, he was buying a beautiful little house in Shrewsbury on a new estate right by the River Severn.
As the days passed by I got to like Oswestry and the surrounding areas ,Roger would borrow his dads little Austin A40 and chauffeur me around the hills and dales of Shropshire. The farm roads were nowhere as busy as they are today and we could stop almost where we liked to get out and enjoy the scenery.
We had a wedding rehearsal in the middle of the week and I met Pearl and her maid of honour for the first time. The church was ancient,11th century I think . It had ,originally, a thatched roof ,but now had large lichen covered grey tiles. Inside there were whitewashed walls and a few wall mounted tablets honouring the dead of both world wars. The altar was a very simple affair ,a brass crucifix and two large brass candlesticks gleamed in the light from the side windows.
The rehearsal went off fine and we all retired to a pub nearby. This little inn was a curiosity, it lay across the border of England and Wales, and on a Sunday the door on the Welsh side had to remain locked and the bar that side could not serve anything ,needless to say the bar on the English side would be filled to bursting with locals, and tourist’s.
Saturday soon dawned and then it was a case of getting all the strings drawn together, suits to be collected from hire shop, check that the limo’s were all o.k., make sure that I had the ring, and, finally, to see that Roger was turned out immaculately.
The whole thing went with the precision of a finely made Swiss watch, I felt ripped off about the limo’s though, they were Humber Super Snipes,but they had seen much better days. The only thing that held the body’s together was the paint. The upholstery was tattered and torn and the springs in the seats were knackered.. They were at least 30 years old and were showing signs of rust on the bonnet and mud guards. The wedding ceremony passed without a hitch and,after the photographer had taken all the usual shots, it was off to the barracks at Oswestry Depot for the wedding feast. Pearls father had done the catering, he was a caterer to the Army and the spread was excellent. The drink flowed steadily and soon it was time for the speeches, I was a bit short of material on Roger, he had’nt told me much about himself when we sailed together and had been busily occupied with getting his new house ready to move into in the run up to the big day,so I hoofed it ,made it seem like he was an old buddy;it went down well.
The meal was over and the pubs were just opening, most people had come some miles to be at this “do” and it seemed a shame to split up just when things were warming up. I suggested that we retire to a pub in the centre of Oswestry to have a few drinks before setting off home. Most of the guests were family but there some who had come up from Warwickshire, Birmingham and Swindon ,as well as other places. We filled the pub to overflowing and I had had a tarpaulin muster of all the guests that were there, £2-10.s. for the men and £1-00p for the ladies, it was more than enough and by the time the clock struck 8 pm someone suggested we go back to Rogers house for a bite to eat. There was a lot of money left in the kitty, enough to buy more than 3 crates of ale and a case Babycham . I was still dressed in my hire suit and felt terribly old fashioned, if we went to Roger’s I could at least get changed.
There were three reception rooms on the ground floor at Rogers, and there were ,roughly speaking ,three sets of age groups. We parked the Mums and dads and grandparents in the front room , the over thirties in the middle room ,and then the singles took control of the back room . There were so many girls there that I felt like a kid in a candy shop. I was acting as DJ and Roger (who was by now heading off with his new wife to their honeymoon hotel) had a fairly decent collection of records. You could feel the evening start to swing and I could see that there were more than a few beauties that I could chance my arm with, first of all I had to get changed. I put on Billy Rose’ “The Stripper” and started getting my kit off to the music, there was a blonde girl at the back of the room who showed her distaste by giving me a scathing look, the other girls were egging me on. One of the married women had joined us and she made it quite plain that she liked what she saw, that blonde though, she was like ice. I got out of the room with just my boxer shorts on and then went and put some jeans on. As time passed by more and more people had to leave to catch their trains home, soon there was just me and one of the ushers, guy called Barry ,and half a dozen girls. I was feeling well mellow and wanted to see if I could tempt any of the ladies. The night was warm and the sky velvet black so I suggested that we walk to the racecourse and see the stars at night. We were all squiffy and some of the girls were quite happy to be kissed ,if I kissed one then another would want a kiss too. When we got to the racecourse ,we had a game of hide and seek, I would get hidden with one of the girls and we would start cuddling , only for another girl to find us and say that it was her turn now. They loved it but it was a bit too wearing for me. Besides, that blonde girl was there and she was disgusted at our shenanigans. Realising that I was on a hiding to nothing, I threw the towel in and suggested that we go and have a nice cup of cocoa before going to bed.

Next morning I was up with the lark and had a shower before going down to breakfast. When I arrived in the kitchen , that blonde was there, turned out she was Rogers cousin ,and very nice too. Her mum and dad were with her and she told me that she lived in Birmingam and had come back from her Spanish holiday just yesterday morning ,they would be leaving for home just after breakfast and she made it plain that she would be quite happy to see the back of me ,ah well, you can’t win them all. I travelled back on Monday and Rogers mum and dad made me promise that I would come and see them again when I was next at home. Barry the usher asked if I could show him some of the night life in Liverpool and we made a date for the following Friday. I would have a few days to recover from my sojourn, and then I must think in terms of getting another berth.

[brian daley]

The Arcadian

I touched lucky when I got back to Liverpool, when I reported to the Pool there was a spare man wanted on an Ellerman boat running up to the Great Lakes. It was just on a year ago when I ran up there on the Kypros/Aurania,it would be good to see the Fall again on the Lakes. She was’nt signing for a few days so I got in touch with Barry,the usher, and invited him to an evening of pub crawling around the town. I also asked him if he could get the address of Rogers blonde cousin in Birmingham ,that girl intrigued me.
I met Barry in Central Station and we kicked off at Ma Egertons and then progressed up to Lime Street and had drinks in the Big house ,the Crown and the Yankee Bar,stopping off at Yates for a couple of Whites.We then meandered to the Philharmonic and the Crack and ended up in a very pseudy club which was full poets and actors. Barry was an actor and he pulled very quickly, I got lumbered with the girls friend,who had an unforgettable name ,Belle Star. She too was of the arty set and I got involved in a deep discussion about existentialism. It’s wonderful how a few glasses of White can send the tongue to heights of eloquence. We saw the girls back to their flat and then made sure that Barry caught his train back to Oswestry. The address of that little blonde was safe inside my wallet and when I got home I sat up until the wee small hours writing her a letter.

Ever since I left the Crosbian back in 62’ , whenever I sailed with a Liverpool crowd I always checked the crew list to see if B. the bully was on board. I had grown lax now ,6 years had passed and I had only glimpsed him once.
Just after I had appended my signature to the articles ,I saw ,with shock, his signature just above mine. My cowards heart went into overdrive “Run, leave this ship,go!!” I had been reminded of the bad blood just a few weeks before, one of my mates had sailed with him and B.was telling all and sundry that I was dead meat. With a panicky heart I set off for the sailors alleyway to find my new cabin. I had a single berth and it was’nt too bad. I slung my gear on the bunk and went along to the messroom. It was quite crowded and there was laughter in the air……would he be in there?
The whole deck crowd were there and sat in the middle of them was B.
The room fell silent as I entered, there was one empty seat so I parked myself there, right opposite the man himself. He looked at me.his eyes abrim with laughter, “So, you’re the new feller” He said to the mess “ I know this man, we were at the sea school together ,and we sailed on the Crosbian” He stuck his hand out, “put it there Brian” he said shaking my hand like an old friend well met. It certainly took the wind out of my sails..
It was a really mixed crew, there were a couple of young O.S.s ,B. seemed to be the senior man then there was a chubby A.B. ,an excellent model maker, and then a man of great age,Fred, I never did find out how old he was,but the sea was the only life he had.There were a couple of new EDH’s and they had spent the summer aboard her. All in all ,she seemed a very happy ship, she was only away for 5 weeks or so and she went to a lot of nice ports. After the solid graft of watch and watch on the Acclivity this would be like a holiday.

Our outward journey ran smoothly, the atmosphere seemed a little unreal, B. was deferential and I was uneasy about that, would he seek his revenge?
There was one incident that could have acted as a trigger, one of the junior rating was taking issue with some statement I had made and all eyes were on B., looking to see what he had to say on the matter. He looked at the JOS. And said “ You listen to what Brian tells you , he’s been around a bit and knows his onions !” I felt distinctly embarrassed by such fulsome praise..
Later that evening I was sitting in my cabin doing a few repairs on my working jeans,when one of the young EDH’s knocked on my door.I called him in and he sat on my daybed. I asked him what he wanted and he asked if he could borrow my short raincoat to go ashore in Montreal. I nodded OK and he lingered a while. I asked him if there was something else . He looked a little embarrassed. “ You and B., what’s goin’ on there? I asked him what he meant and he said that B. had been the top man in the deck crowd and used to dominate the lads. He practically lorded it over everyone and even the bosun deferred to him. “ you come aboard and the he’s as nice as pie. What’s the story?” I just said the B. was an old mate from way back and that’s the story.
I never let on about what had occurred on the Crosbian,let sleeping dogs lie !

Quebec was our first port this time, we tied up right beneath the Chateau Frontengnac, a very grand hotel that stood upon the heights above the St. Lawrence. There was no silly stuff with the dockers this trip,the protection money must have been paid and there was no leakage from the cargo
We were'nt alongside long enough to get ashore and then we headed for Montreal. The Expo site was still there but the national pavilions were all gone, it was now called “A Man and His World” and was just like a big theme park. Gone were the crowds that flooded Expo but there still some good rides there.
On Saturday night I went to a club that was open during Expo, it was called ”My Fathers Moustache” and was a very popular venue. There was a resident jazz band and they had guest groups too, it was a great place to take a girl to.
Pity I never had one. But I did get a letter from that blonde from Birmingham.
She was an excellent writer, her letter was like a narrative essay ,she described her everyday life and was very observant. I could picture the scenes she described. The library,where class A eccentrics seemed to lurk amongst the bookshelves, the market where the hucksters were as entertaining as street theatre. She had a group of girlfriends who were of a similar disposition, they had been at college together,and,indeed,had returned from a camping holiday in Spain the weekend of Rogers wedding. I wanted to know more of this girl and the world that she lived in. I set about replying to her mail ,detailing my foray ashore in Montreal and our journey upriver. I was hungry for more of her words.
Shown below are the Village designed for Expo by Le Corbousier,the Space and Volcano ride at A man and his world,A town on the Seaway that was split in two to let the ships through,
Grafitti on the entrance to the seaway, the grim welcome at the entrance to the St. Lawrence

[brian daley]

The Lakes

There were no riots or dock strikes this time, the captain was able to maintain a very tight schedule and we negotiated our way through the St Lawrence Seaway and four of the Great Lakes.
Our first port on Lake Ontario was in the US, Rochester. Toronto ,in Canada, followed .We called at Hamilton and then went through the canal to Lake Erie where we docked at Toledo. Windsor ,in Canada, was our next port of call just up from here we were back in the US ,at the port city of Motown , Detroit. .Detroit is in Lake Saint Clair and we crossed it to go through another section of the Seaway ,w2hich took us to Sarnia ,on the Canadian side of Lake Huron
After Sarnia ,we were able to catch up on some sleep ,because we were going non-stop to Chicago, which is at the southern end of Lake Michigan.
The “Windy City “ was the end of the line ,there we would discharge the last of our imported goods and then start loading for home.
All the while on our outward journey, that little blonde, from Birmingham, had been replying to my many letters. That song from the King and I ,"Getting to Know You" She was 5 years younger than me but seemed a lot more mature.
She had been in a drama group and had done stage management ,as well as painting the sets. Her love of literature was evident in the books she read and her skill with a pencil was such that she could sketch portraits which seemed to catch the essence of the person ,making them more alive.
On our homeward run ,I raised the possibility of meeting her. I knew what she looked like, her voice was clear and strong and her sense of humour was second to none.
By the time we got back to Montreal we had arranged to meet up at her aunt’s place in Oswestry, just for the day………………………I was really looking forward to that day, it could’nt come soon enough.

While we were in Montreal the crew were put to work painting the hull and the accommodation. We started off at the bow and would be painting right down the length of her. I was put on the stage with another guy who was about the same age as me .We were working on the port bow and, facing us were two Sos’s on the starboard bow. Because of the rake of her stem the two of us at the bow end of both stages were visible to each other and could see how we were working. I ,and my stage mate, had learned over the years how to work smart.
The stages were,in essence ,planks of wood with a cross piece at either end,we called the cross piece “ horns”. We would tie a gantline at the horned ends and then pass the ends of the line through a piece of rope called a lizard .This had a metal eyelet spliced into one end while the other end would be made fast to a rail or stanchion.When the gantline was put through the eyelet it was wound around the end of the stage, this would hold the stage in place. Two turns would hold it tight ,but the more nervous amongst us would put as many turns as they could on the end. So, there we were, me and my stage mate with just two turns on the horns ,and the young ‘uns opposite with about six turns. To lower ourselves down to another “fleet” we would grip the gantline and throw of the turns and lower ourselves simply by loosing our hold on falls. Simply closing your grip would halt the drop and we would put a couple of turns around the horns . The kid opposite me had never seen this done before and told his stagemate what he had seen. They tried copying us ,gripping the gantline,but not tight enough! The stage fell away beneath them and by the time they had gripped them tight enough, they were hanging there ,in mid air. The guy opposite me looked like Wil.e Coyote.There was only one way for them to go….DOWN!!!!
They hit the water together and were pulled into the punt ,which was being used for painting the boot topping.
Their misadventure was the source of great merriment amongst the lads,me and my oppo nearly had a stroke we laughed that much.
The days flew by and soon we were back in Liverpool for the weekend; I spent Friday and Saturday at home and ventured to Oswestry on Sunday.
It was a fresh autumn day and the countryside was turning brown and gold, Shropshire is a wonderful county, full of hills and dales, ineffably English.
I made my own way from the station to Park Avenue and the town looked fresh and clean in the sunlight . When I reached Rogers I was welcomed like a long lost son, and sitting in the front room was that little Brummie. I caught my breath when I saw her, her flaxen hair had golden flecks in it and her little black dress with its white cuffs and collar, so simple and elegant made her look enchanting. My eyes were filled with her simple beauty and I hoped that my heart would not betray me because it was thumping within my chest. We had Sunday lunch and then went for a drive in Rogers fathers car. It was all passing in a haze,I only had eyes for her,my little blonde. Time sped by and it was soon time for Blondie to go back to Brum. She had to go to Shrewsbury for the train and her Uncle was driving her. I asked if I could see her off and we all drove to the station. I wanted to be with her so much,to leave her now would be madness. When we got to the station I bought a one way ticket to Birmingham, I was going to see her to her door. She seemed delighted that I had done so and when sat on the train ,oblivious to the world around us, holding hands and devouring each other with our eyes. By the time we reached New Street in Birmingham I knew I was falling for this lady in a big,big way.
Her parents were quite surprised when they saw the two of us ,they were nice gentle folk and were very shy. She was their only child and I could see that they were worried about me, a sailor ,big and hairy,and their little daughter, so frail and vulnerable.
It was about 9 in the evening and she took me to see a bit of Birmingham nightlife, it was petty much the same as Liverpool ,small ,smoke filled cellars ,with psychodelic lights and music systems blasting at 128 decibels. She had to work next morning and so we went back to her house about midnight. Her parents were still up, she thought they would have been in bed. Her mum had made me a bed in Blondies room and Blondie was sleeping in the spare room.
When she showed me my bed, we kissed and near scalded each other, all of my senses were inflamed . We pulled way from each other, knowing we were adrift in dangerous waters. I bade her goodnight and settled in her bed, it smelled of a subtle perfume, gentle like herself. Some of her sketches hung on the walls and I took enjoyment in just looking at them.
I was awakened next morning with the aroma of bacon and eggs, it was about 7-0clock. The door burst open and in came Blondie she came to me and kissed me fully awake
.
I had not been dreaming, she was real and she was kissing me. Oh that morning was so bright, but she was off to work, she was a telephonist at the GPO. She had gone by the time I was up and dressed, he mum cooked me a scrumptious breakfast and I ventured out to have a look at Birmingham town.
It was a town of great contrasts, lots of beautiful old Victorian building cheek by jowl with terrible post war concrete monstrosities .It was as though some crank had put the city into a faulty time machine and spewed out this dreadful mess.
But there was so much to see and do that time had slipped by and it was near time for Blondie to finish work. I went to the exchange where she worked and stood on the pavement opposite. Soon enough ,she was there and we enfolded ourselves into each other.
Her mother had dinner ready for us when arrived, the clock seemed to be working at double speed and it was time for me to make my departure. She came down town with me and we had a drink or two in a pub near the station. She seemed quiet and contemplative s we sat there, I was soon to be off to faraway, she would be here,waiting?
A teardrop slipped down her cheek and she was gripping my hand. I pulled her to me,” When I come home again ,I will marry you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” I could feel her cheeks ,wet against mine and I knew that my heart had found its home.

[brian daley]

“Home is the Sailor………….”

As the train pulled out of New Street station I knew that my life would change, Sue, she of the blonde hair, was so different from any girl I had known before. I was missing her already, this was no adolescent fancy,it was the real thing. Her parents knew that I was once married ,they had to be uneasy about that . But, I knew in my heart of hearts that Sue was the one that I had wanted,Sue was the one I could spend my life with.
I had signed on for another trip to the Great Lakes, we would be home for Christmas and I knew that I wanted to spend Christmas with Sue.
The journey across to Canada was much rougher than last time, it was early November and the sea and the sky were black and grey, the wind screamed through the rigging and the Arctic blasts were freezing cold. We could hardly move on deck to overhaul the running gear, the decks were constantly awash; winter north Atlantic was ever thus.
Sailing up to Quebec was so different from autumn, the hills to the north were now bereft of their fall coats of gold and were now stark and forbidding.
Our messroom had a member missing this trip, B. had left and I could sleep easy once more. The lads asked me why he had been so deferential to me and I kept my counsel, the atmosphere was now very relaxed. I planned to keep it that way.
I felt that something had changed in me, I felt unnatural, this was no life for a married man, living like a monk ,with a crowd of men. I came to realise that the Merchant Navy was a young mans game , see the world and sow the wild oats. Well I had seen an awful lot of this old globe ,and my wild oats were well and truly sown. It was time to live and enjoy life .
I poured my feelings into the letters I wrote to Sue; her letters to me were just as honest, we wanted to be together.
That trip to the Lakes was my swan song , I knew that whatever happened I would not join another ship. All of the ports we went to were covered in snow ,we were one of the last ships to clear the Seaway, it closed down in deep winter because everything iced up. Just before we left Canada ,we called in to Saguenay. It was absolutely freezing, the seaward bulkhead (wall) of my cabin had half an inch of ice on the inside.
We had an elderly deckhand among our lads, he had spent his entire working life at sea. He was well mannered and a good conversationalist ,but he was one of the reasons that confirmed me in my decision to get ashore,he had no one. No family ,no friends, a cabin in the sailors home was where he resided when home. His real life was being aboard ship, a bit like the Flying Dutchman ,I often wonder what became of Old Fred.
We got back to Liverpool on the 15th of December ,plenty of time to spend with my family and with Sue and her family. Mum was bit disappointed that I would’nt be at home for Christmas dinner, she was used to my flitting about and I had’nt yet told her of my plans . I thought it best to see Sue first ,see what her answer would be. With just a few days to go before the holiday I made my way to Birmingham. I met Sue from work and we caught the bus to Handsworth Wood. Sue’s parents were welcoming, but very shy. I can see that it had been a bit of a shock to their systems. Was this sailor for real?
After dinner ,Sue and I sat in the front room and I proposed to her.She was silent for a moment, and I explained that I would get a job in Birmingham and then get a flat so that we could be married. I was very aware of the amount of strokes against me; married with a kid that he says is’nt his.
My divorce had come through although I was still paying maintenance for the child. If anyone married me it would have to be for love,I did’nt have much else.
Sue came into my arms and put her head on my chest, “Yes, I would like to marry you“ she said, turning her face up to kiss me .
Late that night I asked Ted ,her father, if he would give me his daughters hand in marriage. He was a quiet man and I could see that he was torn, I told him that I was leaving the Merchant Navy and would look for a job in Birmingham. I asked if I could lodge with them until I found a flat for us to live in. I would pay them rent and housekeeping . His face was a picture of
bewilderment; we had a cigarette and sat silent while he formed an answer.
He nodded his assent and I went and told Sue. From then on events speeded up, we had to get our lives sorted and the first thing I did was write to my ex wife’s lawyers to inform them that I was about to marry ,I wanted to make sure that I was not going to pursued for any unpaid bills. Everything was ok in that sector. I went around the letting agency’s looking for furnished flats ,in those days there were hundreds. Sue went and sorted out the wedding date and banns and I started searching for a job. Luck plays a great part in your life ,I’ve learned that from experience, I bought the local evening paper and searched the situations vacant columns for a job that I could do. Most of them require the ownership of a license ,I did’nt have one. But there were plenty of others ;one that caught my eye was for an experienced paint sprayer. I had used a spray gun on an oil tanker ,huge thing ,the spray gun that is. I called the number and found that it was just a walk from the town centre .And this is where luck comes in, I was bearded and had my Merchant Navy tie and blazer on. You would’nt see many of them about in ’68. When I was shown into the MD’s office at the factory ,I found him to be bearded and wearing a Merchant Navy tie. On the wall behind his desk hung about half a dozen pictures of ships. He shot up out of his seat and shook my hand and then we talked ships and far off places. We never spoke of my ability ,he took me out on to the factory floor and introduced me the other sprayer, a little lady from Newcastle. I told her that I was a greenhorn but was packing the sea up to marry a local girl. Ina, for that was her name, told me that she would teach me because she thought it was so romantic, just two dates and getting married. The boss told me that I could start first thing in the NewYear.
Christmas Day went off beautifully and on Boxing Day we travelled up to Liverpool to tell them of our plans ,everyone fell in love with Sue ,my sisters thought she was great and mum and dad were very happy for us both.
On December the 26th Sue accompanied me to the Pool where I went through the process of leaving the MN. We went back up to mum and dads to bid them goodbye and took the train to Brum.
I was feeling so happy ,we would be married on the 8th of February,we had a beautiful apartment and I would be commencing work in the first week of the New Year. That was nearly 42 years ago, we were as poor as churchmice, poor, but very happy. I have had many jobs ,each one better than the last, our two children have provided us with three grandchildren ,with another due in February 2011. Our life together has been like a mosaic ,so many interesting things happened to us, good and bad, but always interesting. But love grows, and love is infinite. This is the end of my tale ,but not my life, I hope you have enjoyed it…………………………………………
Brian Daley ,23rd November 2010

Shown below are Sue and I on our wedding day,at the wedding breakfast and outside in the freezing snow.The third picture is of Fred, the old sailorman

[hmtmaj]

Thought I'd bump this thread for any newby looking for a great read about growing up in Liverpool, you may be here a few hours at least !

Go to 1st page and enjoy Brian's true story, absolutely fascinating

Mart

[liverpoolkid2]

that was fantastic readindg and I wouldn't have read it if it wasn't from Mart thank you mate to you

[hmtmaj]

Brian hasn't been on for a while but I'm sure he won't mind a few more readers

[Marty1]

Christ, I'm not sure I have the time left on the planet, but I'll give it a go, thanks !

[hmtmaj]

You won't regret it Marty

Mart

[Marty1]

Come the day when Mrs.E is sitting at the table ,replete with new teeth and glasses,her husband hasn't noticed a thing,"What do you think Love?" she said, new teeth and glasses glistening in the gaslight.He lifted his face from the plate,glowered and said "You look like a f*****g 'orse!!"
The last of the great romantics............

I'm now on page 6 coming into the 50s and yes, it's a great read !

[liverpoolkid2]

I'm now on page 6 coming into the 50s and yes, it's a great read !

Hey Marty, Martin said it's a bit long but weel worth the read well I got so engrossed in it I forgot the time and missed 3 hr patrols so at the moment in the last hours instead of 1hrly I'm doing 2 to catch up haha just made me a bowl of INSTANT MASHED ( and I'm not even Drunk )

[Marty1]

I first thought it would be to long a read, until I started it, forget the Ptls Mike !

[Maureen]

Hi Brian and welcome to the site. You were at Tiber Street school at the same time as me,I lived in Lime Grove off Lodge Lane, I remember a boy called John Charlton who lived further up the lane but can't remember any more names,just remembered, a girl called Alysha was run over on Lodge Lane just by Fern Grove,she had a twin sister,do you remember that, she was ok.

[brian daley]

Hi Maureen,
thank you for your nice welcome. I cannot remember a John Charlton at Tiber Street but I do recall seeing a little girl getting run over by a small saloon car. She was a tragic figure,she lost her mother and a sibling in a fire at their house in Handel Street and was getting over the trauma of that when she had her accident.The incident occurred when school was letting out at 4-0 o'clock. There was a policeman who was stationed at the corner of Tiber Street and Lodge Lane,he was there to see the children safely across the lane. The little girl jumped up on his oustretched arm to swing on it and she did'nt get it right,she slipped off his forearm and fell into the road where the saloon car ran over her legs. I was standing next to the policeman when this happened and saw the whole dreadful thing. When the car passed over her ,she lay flat on her back her head turned toward us, a look of disbelief on her face the flesh on her legs squashed flat. 60 years later I still recall the the emotions that wracked my body. We moved from Mozart Street shortly after that sad accident and I never learned what became of that poor girl,

[hmtmaj]

Nice to see you back on Brian.

"I'm now on page 6 coming into the 50s and yes, it's a great read ! "

only a few more pages to go


Mart.