I have posted previously about my teenage year visits to the Kardomah Café in Stanley Street in Liverpool. Many people doubted my memories stating that there was never a Kardomah in Stanley Street. I knew I had to be right because while sitting in the window of the café, I used to see the DJs from Radio City wandering up and down the road from the radio station which, back in those days, was situated in Stanley Street. Also, the Cherry Boys sang about sitting on their favourite stool in the window of the Kardomah Café while they watched the people drifting down Stanley Street. So I knew I couldn’t be wrong.
At the start of the Second World War, my grandparents ran a fishmonger and greengrocers shop in Birkenhead. My Grandfather was also a fireman which meant he was not constricted into the army because being a fireman was a reserved occupation. Because my grandfather and grandmother were both at home during the war years they didn’t want their daughter, Beryl, evacuated to Wales as part of operation Pied Piper. This was despite Birkenhead being bombed heavily by the Germans because it was home to Camell Lairds and other industry contributing towards the war effort.
Have you ever thought about how powerful words are? It’s fantastic the power words can have. Words can make you happy, sad, they can tell a story or portray a message or an emotion that may make you lie awake thinking about those very words. Words can change your life. Words have great Power. Every written word has a meaning, sometimes meant just for one reader and sometimes for more than one. It usually depends on the writer and what he/she is trying to say. So tonight, as I type this crap that just flows from my mind because… well because I have to write something for this blog thing – it has been too long.
I don’t think I’ve ever been an agnostic. I’ve always thought there’s a superior power, that this is not the real world and that there’s a world to come.
~ Bob Dylan
The first job I had when I left school was working for the pharmaceutical company ER Squibb & Sons, which is now called Bristol-Myers Squibb. I think the first job for anybody after leaving school is a difficult time in life because you slowly start losing contact with all your old school friends and start making friends in the “adult” world. Probably my first friend as an adult was a guy by the name of Geoffrey Hughes. I say friend but in reality it was probably a bit more like hero worship because Geoff was everything I wanted to be. He was fairly good looking and pretty handy with the girls and liked a drink or two. He was what you would call a typical man’s man of the time whereas I was only 17/18 and still wet behind the ears.
I don’t have many memories of you as my father. When I was very young and you were still married to Mum, you were always away with the Merchant Navy. As I got older, you and Mum split up and you moved in with your parents; my grandparents. This was probably the only time in my life when I saw you on a regular basis and we spent some great weekends sailing and hunting together. You taught me how to fire a shotgun and raise a sail although I have by now totally forgotten how. You even trusted me to sail the dingy back and forward to your yacht on my own while other kids my age where not. I always felt proud and trusted whenever they looked at me in envy.