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.
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 hate Christmas. Maybe hate is too strong a word but I don’t like it anywhere near as much as I used to when I was young, although I bet most people feel the same. Christmas as a child is exciting; presents you actually enjoy playing with; not socks and slippers. What is the preoccupation with foot presents when you get over a certain age? Even worse is those people who buy you soap, deodorants and perfume. What are these people trying to tell me?
By the early 1970s, holiday tour operators were offering package holidays abroad for the masses at affordable prices. Flights, transfers and accommodation were being sold at prices which made a holiday abroad more desirable than a wet fortnight by the English seaside. I had accompanied my grandparents on holidays to places like Bournemouth, Poole and Llandudno and, for the most part, the weather was despicable. I remember one year we went on holiday somewhere and it rained every single day we were away. I think for the week we were away we had one afternoon when we could venture outside the confines of the car.
As a child, I can remember having sudden feelings of great happiness and well-being. These feelings didn’t manifest themselves too often but when they did they were most over-powering. I remember one was when I had decided to walk to the shopping centre near to our home when I was around 12 or 13. It was during the summer holidays from school and I was bored and at a loose end; not knowing what to do with myself. For this reason I started to walk to the shops when suddenly I was elated, happy but for no reason I could understand.
I have never really understood it, but in bygone years people carried on working until they literally dropped dead. I am not a historian so I have no idea if this was because they had no pension and so had to work on through necessity, or just because there was nothing better to do. I am talking about the days before the internet, before affordable television and when the average family didn’t have any personal transport. What was there to stay at home for, if you did retire?