Exactly ten years before I was born a brave young test pilot named Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier for the very first time, something that was thought to be impossible.
Just three years before that, to the day, another brave man, German Military Commander, Field Marshall Erwin Rommel - nicknamed 'the Desert Fox' - comitted suicide by taking a cynanide tablet shortly before being arrested on suspicion of being involved in the failed attempt to assassinate the German leader Adolf Hitler.
It was coincidently, eight hundred and seventy eight years before that, to the day, that another brave man, William, who was later to be called the conqueror, was proclaimed King of England.
And, it is Cliff Richards birthday.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
Colomenditz
Calamity week continues on the blog:
Since 1939 generations of Liverpool schoolkids have stayed at Colomendy, Liverpool City Council's outdoor pursuit camp in North Wales.
Robert, my brother went and I didn't and for a few years, I didn't and then, one year, young David finally had his chance to go to the camp.
This was the dormitory, and well, it wasn't bad at all to a bunch of ten year olds back in 1967, I remember reading a book under the covers with my ladybird torch, snuggled in for sleep after late night milk and cookies in another hut while watching thousands of flies bounce off lights all over the camp.
The calamity happened about two days into my weeks stay, I was running with three or four pop bottles when I slipped and fell, one major shard of glass punctured my right hand at the base of my thumb, very deep and I was rushed to hospital for stitches.
This was typical of my early life, another great adventure was truncated by a foolish moment, for the rest of my "active" time there I had my hand bandaged up and in a sling, regardless the week at the camp remains a great memory.
Since 1939 generations of Liverpool schoolkids have stayed at Colomendy, Liverpool City Council's outdoor pursuit camp in North Wales.
Robert, my brother went and I didn't and for a few years, I didn't and then, one year, young David finally had his chance to go to the camp.
This was the dormitory, and well, it wasn't bad at all to a bunch of ten year olds back in 1967, I remember reading a book under the covers with my ladybird torch, snuggled in for sleep after late night milk and cookies in another hut while watching thousands of flies bounce off lights all over the camp.
The calamity happened about two days into my weeks stay, I was running with three or four pop bottles when I slipped and fell, one major shard of glass punctured my right hand at the base of my thumb, very deep and I was rushed to hospital for stitches.
This was typical of my early life, another great adventure was truncated by a foolish moment, for the rest of my "active" time there I had my hand bandaged up and in a sling, regardless the week at the camp remains a great memory.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Jumper
Stricken with flu at the moment, reminds me of a time when my older brother, Robert, jumped down from a high place in the grotto in Sefton Park, Liverpool and bit into his own knee.
A simple kid thing, jumping, lots of elastic and damping working for you, and in this case, he just over extended and his teeth impacted his knee, no big deal.
What was to be a big deal happened next as we went to the big pond and wet a hanky and cleaned the wound for him, doing the right thing in a very wrong way, a pond where old men spat, little kids widdled and gosh knows what else.
I recall Rob, a few days later, with a bottle of pink stuff from Doctor Forshaw, laid out on the couch, almost at deaths door with a hugely inflamed and swollen leg, waiting for that new fangled penicillin to take effect, of course, as kids always did back then, he survived to jump another day.
A simple kid thing, jumping, lots of elastic and damping working for you, and in this case, he just over extended and his teeth impacted his knee, no big deal.
What was to be a big deal happened next as we went to the big pond and wet a hanky and cleaned the wound for him, doing the right thing in a very wrong way, a pond where old men spat, little kids widdled and gosh knows what else.
I recall Rob, a few days later, with a bottle of pink stuff from Doctor Forshaw, laid out on the couch, almost at deaths door with a hugely inflamed and swollen leg, waiting for that new fangled penicillin to take effect, of course, as kids always did back then, he survived to jump another day.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
The Players
Introducing some of the people discussed or to be discussed in this blog:
Front and centre, the Hairdresser and the Taxi Driver. Dorothy (Edwards) and Arthur Weldon. Their wedding day, March 29th, 1952
The tall guy at the back, left hand side is my Grandfather on my mums side, "Jack" Edwards, his wife is far left "Betsey". The chap peaking over my dads shoulder is my other Grandfather, the old mother Riley one, and his wife, dressed like a grizzly Bear, Margaret is standing proudly in front.
There are three more people in the photo, peeking out of the church is my Auntie Alda and the best man, Stanley Weldon is at the top right and the maid of honour, Mary Wright is front left, next to my mum.
Front and centre, the Hairdresser and the Taxi Driver. Dorothy (Edwards) and Arthur Weldon. Their wedding day, March 29th, 1952
The tall guy at the back, left hand side is my Grandfather on my mums side, "Jack" Edwards, his wife is far left "Betsey". The chap peaking over my dads shoulder is my other Grandfather, the old mother Riley one, and his wife, dressed like a grizzly Bear, Margaret is standing proudly in front.
There are three more people in the photo, peeking out of the church is my Auntie Alda and the best man, Stanley Weldon is at the top right and the maid of honour, Mary Wright is front left, next to my mum.
Old Mother Riley
I have few memories of my grandparents, my grandfather on the Weldon side was another Arthur, Arthur Sandiland Weldon.
It seemed that back in the 1950s, everyone had a "party piece" that they would roll out during an occasion, and this is one of those things that I remember about him.
One of Arthurs party pieces was to dress up as 'Old Mother Riley' who was an old Irish washerwoman made famous on stage and screen by Arthur Lucan (Born, Arthur Towle, in Boston, Lincolnshire in 1887).
This is my grandfather in all his Old Mother Riley glory:
It seemed that back in the 1950s, everyone had a "party piece" that they would roll out during an occasion, and this is one of those things that I remember about him.
One of Arthurs party pieces was to dress up as 'Old Mother Riley' who was an old Irish washerwoman made famous on stage and screen by Arthur Lucan (Born, Arthur Towle, in Boston, Lincolnshire in 1887).
This is my grandfather in all his Old Mother Riley glory:
Wales
In these days of almost 24 hour shopping, the following is quite funny in the life of the hairdresser and the taxi driver.
Stanley Weldon, who was Arthurs lifetime friend, tells the story of the move from Whiston to Wales as being a nightmare as the volume of stuff was underestimated, especially in the garage, plus there was the wrapping (in newspaper) of all the frozen goods in the 17 cubic foot chest freezer.
Dorothy was a member of a frozen food club, and that freezer was always full.
They emptied the huge freezer, loaded it into the van, wrapped all the food and packed it all back in. Then a 90 minute journey to Rhyl and the reverse process, unpack, unload, unwrap and repack.
The big problem down in Wales occured when it was realised that the power cord from the freezer wasn't long enough to reach the socket in the new garage, and of course, it was either after five o'clock or half day closing and the only available extension cord was hidden in a packing crate somewhere.
It's another one of those stories where you would have to be there to see the funny side of it all, another reason for my mum to break out a bottle of Malibu.
If only she could find it.....
Stanley Weldon, who was Arthurs lifetime friend, tells the story of the move from Whiston to Wales as being a nightmare as the volume of stuff was underestimated, especially in the garage, plus there was the wrapping (in newspaper) of all the frozen goods in the 17 cubic foot chest freezer.
Dorothy was a member of a frozen food club, and that freezer was always full.
They emptied the huge freezer, loaded it into the van, wrapped all the food and packed it all back in. Then a 90 minute journey to Rhyl and the reverse process, unpack, unload, unwrap and repack.
The big problem down in Wales occured when it was realised that the power cord from the freezer wasn't long enough to reach the socket in the new garage, and of course, it was either after five o'clock or half day closing and the only available extension cord was hidden in a packing crate somewhere.
It's another one of those stories where you would have to be there to see the funny side of it all, another reason for my mum to break out a bottle of Malibu.
If only she could find it.....
The Hairdresser
Dorothy used to tell stories of the local actors and actresses who frequented the salon she worked for around St. Georges Place in Liverpool Town centre. They were from the Empire Theatre, New Shakespeare Theatre and often gawdy, sometimes openly homosexual which was very much a taboo back in the early 1950s. They did have money though, and tipped well. She told stories of the Adelphi Hotel and wild parties that stretched into the night although she never witnessed these first hand.
She used to buy her cigarettes from a small tobacconists at number 16, in between the Imperial and Washington Hotels at St. Georges Place. Probably unfiltered Woodbines.
In the very early 1950s she was offered at job to work on a cruise ship, as a hairdresser, but declined as she had met the young cheeky Arthur Herbert Weldon. This became a "standard" of stories in the Weldon household, often preceded with "I should have", "I could have", "I wish you had have" etc.
She used to buy her cigarettes from a small tobacconists at number 16, in between the Imperial and Washington Hotels at St. Georges Place. Probably unfiltered Woodbines.
In the very early 1950s she was offered at job to work on a cruise ship, as a hairdresser, but declined as she had met the young cheeky Arthur Herbert Weldon. This became a "standard" of stories in the Weldon household, often preceded with "I should have", "I could have", "I wish you had have" etc.
The Taxi driver
In the middle of the 1950s, my dad the taxi driver, was employed at the Meccano toy factory, Binns Road, Liverpool. The job of paint tester was basically quality control for the enamel paints that were used on the Meccano construction kit parts, toy trains and Dinky cars. Paint would be sprayed onto glass and the drying time, consistancy and colour checked.
It was around this time that Arthur, during lunch and tea breaks, would sell shirts and ties to the many female employees. This was a practice that was looked down on by the bosses and may also have affected his timekeeping.
He used to cycle from Botanic Road to Binns Road via Edge Lane on his old boneshaker, which would usually take 30 minutes or so, and was warned about his timekeeping. After a bout of what Arthur called dysentry, he was late one more time and was sacked.
This was a transitional point in his life and the last time that he would work for an employer, in the process of eventually becoming a taxi driver, dad would be a barrow boy market trader, shop keeper, prawn and seafood salesman and do anything he could to "earn a note" and keep the family machine running.
It was around this time that Arthur, during lunch and tea breaks, would sell shirts and ties to the many female employees. This was a practice that was looked down on by the bosses and may also have affected his timekeeping.
He used to cycle from Botanic Road to Binns Road via Edge Lane on his old boneshaker, which would usually take 30 minutes or so, and was warned about his timekeeping. After a bout of what Arthur called dysentry, he was late one more time and was sacked.
This was a transitional point in his life and the last time that he would work for an employer, in the process of eventually becoming a taxi driver, dad would be a barrow boy market trader, shop keeper, prawn and seafood salesman and do anything he could to "earn a note" and keep the family machine running.
Name calling
Five minute moment, just one a day, but already, here in February, I'm slacking and falling behind, I mean, it's only five minutes and I am retired, so what's the deal?
I would say I've been sick, but really, that's just another excuse, five minutes.
The concept of a diary, the luxury of a notepad on past life, just five minutes per day to assemble the life to date, the life and opinions of another Tristram Shandy or David Weldon, a possible but impossible task.
A name like David is quite useful, because it can be used in many ways, David, Dave or even little Davey, as in Davey Jones the most annoying little fake British member of the Monkeys.
In the stories of my younger naughty life, it would always be David and that has stuck with me throughout life, whenever anyone calls me David, I remember my mums tone in those uncomfortable moments. However, she would also call me to dinner with a higher pitched, drawn out David, so it wasn't all bad.
I would say I've been sick, but really, that's just another excuse, five minutes.
The concept of a diary, the luxury of a notepad on past life, just five minutes per day to assemble the life to date, the life and opinions of another Tristram Shandy or David Weldon, a possible but impossible task.
A name like David is quite useful, because it can be used in many ways, David, Dave or even little Davey, as in Davey Jones the most annoying little fake British member of the Monkeys.
In the stories of my younger naughty life, it would always be David and that has stuck with me throughout life, whenever anyone calls me David, I remember my mums tone in those uncomfortable moments. However, she would also call me to dinner with a higher pitched, drawn out David, so it wasn't all bad.
Stolen Goods
I was writing to my son today, and I recalled this :
I don't know what it was about Liverpool, growing up there, a certain level of "scally" gets infused into a person, when we moved "up" to Whiston, Lancashire at the age of 14, my mum and dad shelled out for a Switzerland trip which was a chance in a lifetime for me.
The little village we stayed at had a supermarket, full of lovely swiss chocolate and sunglasses and you guessed it, quite a few of our group of about 25 started shoplifting and I actually bought several items, bargain prices of course, off a couple of my "mates".
It seemed to legitimise the process, I wasn't stealing, just buying.
What an idiot.
Anyway, as with all schemes, it came tumbling down as the shop owners noticed the enormous amount of stuff going missing, so they talked to our teachers and there was an inquisition where the group was isolated on the top floor of the hotel and all the names came out, divide and conquer as they say.
A night of shame.
It all seem to fade away and happiness returned in my young life until mum and dad were called to the school for another night of the long knives a month after we returned.
I don't know what it was about Liverpool, growing up there, a certain level of "scally" gets infused into a person, when we moved "up" to Whiston, Lancashire at the age of 14, my mum and dad shelled out for a Switzerland trip which was a chance in a lifetime for me.
The little village we stayed at had a supermarket, full of lovely swiss chocolate and sunglasses and you guessed it, quite a few of our group of about 25 started shoplifting and I actually bought several items, bargain prices of course, off a couple of my "mates".
It seemed to legitimise the process, I wasn't stealing, just buying.
What an idiot.
Anyway, as with all schemes, it came tumbling down as the shop owners noticed the enormous amount of stuff going missing, so they talked to our teachers and there was an inquisition where the group was isolated on the top floor of the hotel and all the names came out, divide and conquer as they say.
A night of shame.
It all seem to fade away and happiness returned in my young life until mum and dad were called to the school for another night of the long knives a month after we returned.
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