Love, Liverpool: an A to Z of Hope // Letter 6
Letter 6 is about how and where we grew up, it's about the people we call family and how this wonderful place impacted who we are as people.
Letter 6: Liverpool Family
Jump to: Audio stories // Written stories // Thank you
We start with Dynamite and Feathers, a commissioned piece by Roy which is an exploration of Kirkdale.
Followed by our audio story public submissions, By Me Nans by Kay Nicholson, Ulster Road by Paul McDermott, Second World War Physical Witness by Geoffrey Harvey, My Liverpool Home by Tommy Dewhurst, Kirkdale by Bernadette Power and Campion Boys by Tony Gallager.
You can listen to our audio stories here or download them later with the podcast platform of your choice.
A full transcript of our audio stories is available here.
Another collection of lovely words with this episode’s written submissions…
Dripping Butties and Sherbet Lemons by Patricia Richardson
I think of my past and by gone days
Dripping butties & sherbet lemonade
Cast iron shore, paddling pools
Building sandcastles after Sunday school
Playing on swings with all our friends
Reminiscing on memories we talk till the day ends
Ice cream cornets on the way home
Memoires we share or think of alone
Picking rhubarb & mint from the plot, rhubarb dipped in the sugar to stop the bitter spot
Raking the soil planting the veg, avoiding nettle stings on our legs
---
Puppy Love by Brian Wharton
It was the summer of 1973; I was 9 and you were nearly 10. We met in the Central Junior Library on Christian Street and our eyes locked. You were from Gerard Gardens and I was from The Four Squares. I eyed up your purple suede skirt and you said you liked my red and yellow ‘loon’ pants. I asked what you were reading, and you said Jane Eyre. I held a copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory awkwardly under my arm. We would meet there every Saturday morning in that den of dreams and talk about everything over a bag of Walkers toffees. You adored Donny Osmond and I loved Suzi Quatro. You looked immaculate like a proper girl with your carefully brushed long blonde hair, whereas I was a gauche ragamuffin just like Enid Blyton’s boyish George. I loved our weekends together especially when we went into town to visit Blacklers and then onwards to marvel at the water buckets. I didn’t know what romance meant then, but I felt something skip deep inside. We stopped seeing each other when we moved out of the area and went to different schools until that beautiful day in TJs café. Me and my mam always shopped there until she couldn’t remember much anymore. It’s always been a hub for familiar faces and yours was one I couldn’t forget. I stared at you for about 10 minutes before I finally plucked up the courage to speak. We laughed over a couple of lattes. You said I hadn’t changed, generous as ever! We meet there every Saturday and sometimes take a stroll around the old neighbourhood although all the tenements and shops have now been torn down. Some things don’t change though like St John’s Gardens, the Walker Art Gallery and the famous ‘Steble fountain’ frozen in time. I’ve lots to tell you if I dare but I don’t mind listening to you as our lives have been so different. Maybe that moment will come or maybe it won’t, but as someone famous once said let’s just be together again and ‘enjoy the silence.’
---
By Catriona Chandler
I can’t go a week without a catch up with my best friend of 6 years, Liv, on The Field. She lives a 10-min walk away from me. I could do it with my eyes closed. On the way I pass Chris’s chippy and buy a portion of salt and pepper chips, half of which usually end up in Liv’s tummy because she steals them all, cheeky get! I usually listen to a bit of Little Mix on the way up to get me in the mood for our chin wag. They remind me of Liv because she knows every single lyric to every single one of their songs- shamelessly. By the time I’m at The Field I’m usually out of breath so I lie down, breathe for a bit and listen to Liv chat shit for 30 seconds before interrupting. The Field’s actual name is Holt Field, but who can be assed to call anything by its full name in Liverpool. It’s not really a field, more a large piece of grass on a hill that looks quite pathetic sitting next to Sudley field. But it has the best view and looks over the whole of south Liverpool. Oh we haven’t half gossiped on that field. Liv had her first kiss on The Field and the day after she told me all about it; I rolled down the hill while screaming out of excitement. Then I made her recreate the exact position it happened in. I played the role of her new boyfriend (the relationship lasted 4 days), Liv played herself. I did my best manspread and said “go on then”. Before I knew it, she was straddling me! “Bit raunchy for Allerton!” I said. We then giggled all the way to Tesco Express and bought chocolate buttons to eat in Liv’s house. We always ended up at Liv’s because we never wore a coat and would near die of frostbite every time.
---
The Kindness of Strangers by Mark Davoren
I grew up in Kent and came to Liverpool in 1990 to study at the University of Liverpool, and after graduating in 1994 I chose to make Liverpool my home.
My parents used to visit on a regular basis and we enjoyed seeing the city transform itself so wonderfully over the next twenty years, so much so that having themselves fallen in love with Liverpool, they too chose to move here in 2014 which was a pretty significant move given that they had lived in the same house in Kent for over fifty years.
They had been here less than a year when my dad began to have problems with his walking which we all attributed to old age, although he was adamant it was something else. He went to the doctor and had various tests, but nothing could be found.
My first inkling something was properly wrong was in June 2015 when my mum had gone away with one of my sisters for the weekend and dad came to stay with me as he was not comfortable being left on his own.
As a treat to ourselves we went to see the matinee of The Hudsucker Proxy at the Playhouse, and afterwards, as we walked along chatting about the play, there was a sudden silence and as I looked round for him, well, he just wasn’t there. He had in fact hit the deck. Outside of a nearby pub called The Fall Well: you can’t escape the irony. Fortunately, people inside had seen him go down and rushed out, eager to help get him back on his feet and checking he was all right. I was touched by their kindness.
When we got back home, dad admitted that this had become a common occurrence and he had got quite adept at, well, falling well, so as not to hurt himself in the process.
It subsequently transpired he had a rare form of Motor Neurone Disease and was to pass some 12 months later which in itself came as more of a blessing given the awful nature of this condition which strips you of every dignity.
But I will always remember that moment in town and the kindness of strangers which sums up Liverpool to me.
A thank you from Liverpool actor Darci Shaw. If you are in a position to help us continue to create brilliant, inspiring & entertaining work, help us continue to work with our communities & develop talent and young people then please do consider a donation, we'd be so grateful. You can find out more about how to support us here.
We hope you enjoyed this weeks letter, see you soon.
Love,
Liverpool
x