Monday, August 31, 2009

Chips and Water

Living in Botanic Road, Liverpool 7 in the early sixties, my brother and I would make the journey to Picton Road baths, the nearest swimming pool. Mum would give us enough bus fair and entrance money, but we knew that if we walked there, or walked home a few stops, we could stop off at the chippy and grab sixpence worth of chips. I recall that a cup of hot bovril or hot chocolate was also affordable at the baths café.

Simple days and simple pleasures, probably cost a couple of shillings (or two bob) for almost a day free of the kids.

The baths had changing rooms either side of the actual pool, with swing doors and gaps under the bottom. The usual kit was a rolled up towel and a pair of swimming trunks, but often a valued set of full face goggles or flippers would be available, we could dive under the water and view the lower regions of some of the women, however, I think they always knew what we were up to!

As kids we would spend hours in that water, well over the prune soak time, the subsequent showering and drying and dressing would be exhausting and the reward of a hot drink, a bag of crisps or a bag of chips would rejuvenate us all for the walk home, sometimes there were a few pennies left, these could be used to hop on a bus at a later stop or buy some blackjacks or fruit salad. They were eight for an old penny back then!

Pwllheli


There he is, top left is the Taxi driver, a few years before he was one that is, I would think this was proably around 1960.

The Butlins adult scene included some responsibilities of sorts, Arthur volunteered or was coerced into various activities, here he is a member of Edinburgh House at the Pwllheli camp, mother is notably absent...

At each end and centre there are the "redcoats" who looked after all of us at the Butlins camps, arranged activities and became minders for the kids during the day and kept the parents sanity intact at night.

Butlins

The family holiday in the 1960s would be to one of the so called "Holiday Camps" from Mister Billy Butlin, a very special place for kids and somewhat of an oasis for parents.

The Peter Pan railroad, Puffing Billy, huge water fountains and constant activities for the children, great adventure, games....and Pirates!!


The yearly trip would be remembered with some 8mm movies and a couple of badges, usually a Butlins Beaver membership card and badge and the yearly camp site pin. The above picture shows Filey camp at night, something that was magical about the place because it was always well lit.

I can remember sitting under and to one side of a Butlins swimming pool, the area that ran along the length of the pool, but about five or six foot below the water. There were big glass windows that allowed you to see under the water, and of course the water always appeared to be sky blue.

Sitting there, with mum, dad and Rob, mum would change us under our towels and I'd end up with dry pants and usually a matching shirt on, tired from what seemed like hours bobbing about in the water in my inflatable rubber ring. A glass of Milk or Tizer or some other wondrous substance in front of me and the prospect of a Mars bar, Milky Way or bag of Salt n'Shake crisps.

It was an age of innocence, times when at night, the kids could be parked in chalets and looked after by the chalet patrol while mum and dad grabbed an hour of freedom down at the club.

Septuagenarian

I'm going to start cutting and pasting from a lost blog of mine "The Fool on the Hill" which since changing my email address, and subsequently retiring the old email, has become inaccessible.


Something I wrote for my dad when he was 70.

Some say that A Mason is a Craftsman that Builds,
And in 1926 a great Craftsman was born,
Who, with time, built an Empire for himself,
This refers to, of course, the Septuagenarian, Arthur Weldon.
(Hey, sorry but this just isn’t going to rhyme!)

Look at this man’s life, A tapestry, an Epic,
Starting from the time he took a wife, young Dorothy Edwards.
to this fine Day in September 1996.
He has truly made his mark.

The Meccano Man who made wood shine,
Market Stall, “Barrow Boy” to Wavertree Road Fancy Goods Magnate,
And not forgetting Our favourite Ice Cream Man.
And of course Grand Chief Buffalo of the Ovaltinee’s.

Huyton to Liverpool and almost Australia,
From Botanic Road, Pottery Lane and Kimnel Bay,
With thousands of miles as that “Taxi Guy”,
This man has driven to the moon and back.

Vauxhall Victor, delivery Van, Wedding cars or Taxi,
All those times he took the time, to deliver all of us safely,
To Ainsdale or Butlins or just “down the M6 to Romford”,
Occasionally taking the Scenic Route, He always got us there.

And along with Dot, his lifelong mate, like two swans in the pond of life,
They’ve seen and done more in their time, than most of us could wish for,
But one great wish from all of us, is that both of them will continue.
(And now that the house is insulated we can visit when its Cold...)

A Great Big “Thank You Dad” from all of us,
We love you wherever we are, near or far, Earth or Star,
And lets cheer for whats gone and whatever will be,
Happy Birthday!!


September 1996.

The Hairdresser

Mum and Dad moved to North Wales around 1978 and settled in to a coastal life, with an attempt at another shop, this time a little grocery store, however, as with a lot of small shopkeepers of that time they struggled against the introduction of the big supermarkets. In the case of Arthur and Dorothy, they had little chance of profit from the cash and carry "wholesalers" who were undercut by a newly built Asda superstore.

Mum started cutting hair again, it was an ideal opportunity to get to know people in the new community. Just to show that you can't keep a good hairdresser down, Dorothy returned to her "roots", bought a moped with a carrier box and set off around Kinmel bay to quaff "doos". She was born in 1930 and was buzzing around Rhyl in 1982 (at the ripe old age of 52) to sort out blue rinses and split ends.

Mum used to drink a lot of Malibu back then, but I don't think it's related to the following :

It was exactly this time that, after an afternoon of cutting hair, she parked her moped in the front garden at the house (which was called Korner because it was on the corner) in Kinmel bay and uncontrollably dropped to her knees. Arthur found her passed out in the garden and rushed her over to Glan Clwyd hospital, St Asaph.

I was informed by my boss at the time, Bob Morris of APPH, Speke that there was an urgent phone call. I rushed down to Wales to the Hospital where I found mum in bad shape, basically paralysed and unable to coherently speak. It was the nightmare situation and it was happening to my mum, it looked like she had a major stroke.

There was some discussion and for some reason, the Doctors, who seemed clueless at that point, decided to do a spinal tap as they suspected viral meningitis (not normally done with supposed 'stroke' victims) - they did this and almost instantaneously Dorothy's power of speach returned, they rationalised that the spinal tap process actually released pressure on the brain. I tend to think that mum found the whole process so unbearable that she decided to not go through it again.

In a miraculous fashion, A few days later she was shaken but fine.

She never used the moped again...