1963 Failsworth Manchester

It was just a dirty river

Effluent and rats

"You won't last two minutes in there" the biddies hollered.

We did:

On the odd occasion we ventured in to retrieve a misplaced football or just to cool our little feet on a frozen jubbly afternoon.  We lasted.

A band came on the radio with long hair and pimples.

Suddenly our dirty ol' river became a link to Merseybeat.

And the World shrank.

Poems


l

Me Mam's going gently into that good night

She's not raging against the dying of the light

She's lost the power of speech

She's lost the will to fight

Me Mam's going gently into that good night

ll

Me Mam's going gently into the undiscovered country

From whose bourn no traveller returns

Or acquires wings or burns in Hell

Who's to tell if this puzzles her will

Or lies unremarked in a battered corner

Of her Alzheimered mind

Where it's nigh on closing time

lll

Me Mam's climbing gently into Charon's ferry

She will be burnt

She won't be buried

Ashes to ashes in Hollinwood Crem

Harold P Heywood  keeping the helm

With a rain-soaked phalanx

Of women and men

Who couldn't put me Mam back together again

lV

Me Mam's quietly joining the choir eternal

Focussed on closing the Boethian circle

Drawing the curtains

Damping the fire

Pulling the plug

Soon to expire

V

Me Mam's going gently we know not where

Where paupers and millionaires go: nowhere

Dust and dust and yet more dust

An afterlife? We surely must  look at our offspring and trust

Our loins did well

Here's to lust.

Marion Garry 29 May 1933 - 12 Apr 2017

In A Considered Attempt

In a considered attempt

Not to fall, teetering and swaying

And bang his head as he pulled on his pants

He decided to sit on the edge of the bed

But missed

And fell

And banged his head

In Loving Memory

I'm a bench on a pier now or

Somewhere 'nice' with 'views'

That's what I've become

There's nothing left of me

Apart from two Sons and theirs

And memories in the heads of friends who

Will soon be benches too

Tempus Fugit

30 JULY 1954

Introduction.

That was my birthday.  That date.  In the title.  

It was a Friday if I'm not mistaken and I have a feeling that the young (and, at the time, shapely) Queen Elizabeth II visited my vicinity on, or just after, my happy and glorious birth.  Not that I would have cared about the shape of Queens at the time, although at least one, unshapely queen would try his luck in later years - when I was still snake-hipped and magnificent; but I digress.

I think it rained.  Not on my parade, but hers.  Obviously I can't actually remember - being a babe in arms and everything. I can't recollect anything before actual  occurrencies that are embedded deep within my memory module/cells/cerebellum.

One I can date:  20 Oct 1957.  The other I can't.  Which is correct?  

The first was the birth of my brother.  

The second was being in the back garden of 1 Alan Avenue, Failsworth on a blisteringly hot summer's afternoon when Mrs Horton had a slide and a tin bath full of water that she excitedly told us would be 'just like Blackpool'.  She went on to explain how we would climb up the slide and shoot down into the welcoming waters of the tin bath bath at the end of our descent.  She over-promoted it.

The slide was a 1950s edition:  hardboard nailed to a Dexion frame. The Dexion was fine.  It was the hardboard that hindered progress.  Consequently, once you had soaked your 'cossie' in the bathtub, you stuck like a forlorn limpet to the 'slide'.  Even then, precocious brat that I probably was, I knew she hadn't thought it through.  There were other children there, including Mrs Horton's own I would imagine.  They made no impression on me whatsoever even though she lived there throughout my childhood.  This really worries me.  Were they that nondescript?  Hard to believe.  All I remember from my early years is feisty folk who would give as good as they got.  Whoever stuck to that slide in the blistering heat of an early 50s Mancunian heatwave must have been completely devoid of personality.  Ah well.  

On the 19th or 20th of October 1957 I can remember being wheeled in a wooden cart by my father (Joe Garry) and uncle (Mo Geddes) to my Nana's (Florrie Ford nee Richardson) and Pop's (John Ford) in (26) Ashworth Street, Failsworth.  My memory recalls being transported down Parkside Avenue and a turn left onto Newton Road.  It was a great adventure.  It was dark.  It was Autumn.  I'd never been outside that late before: it was intoxicating.  Later - after we had arrived at my grandparents, I was presented with unwarranted toys and generally had the time of my life as everyone seemed just so, well, pleased about things beyond my comprehension.  I lapped it up.  Forty-odd years later the 'baby brother' lustre faded. But more of that later. I would have been three.

I'm hoping that this memory map will also consist of a sort of social history of the times I lived through - whether actually remembered or not - along with what I can recollect of those times through my rose-tinted, 20-20 Specsaver Specials.

For example: in the year of my birth the first Wimpy bar opened in Great Britain. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wimpy_(restaurant).  The English Electric Lightning made it's maiden flight http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/English_Electric_Lightning.   Donald McGill, the artist of saucy seaside postcards, was found guilty of breaching the Obscene Publications Act 1857 and Roger Bannister broke the four minute mile.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Bannister.  Other things happened as well.  Elsewhere in the World.

The Vietnam War began just before I did http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vietnam_War.  Bill Haley recorded 'Rock Around the Clock' http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Haley_%26_His_Comets and Hugo Chavez was born two days before me .RIP Hugo. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugo_Ch%C3%A1vez

Obviously the first few years of this remembrance will be sparser than the latest few years, so I think I'll initially limit it to the first twenty years.  Now, if you think that's copping out then you have no idea.  It was the years after that inertia set in.  Hopefully each year will be a blog. Here goes.............

Playlist:-

Little Things Mean a Lot - Kitty Kallen

Wanted - Perry Como

Hey There - Rosemary Clooney

Young at Heart - Frank Sinatra

Rock Around the Clock - Bill Hayley & The Comets.

A New Morning

Although I realise that this Blog is now private, I think I'll resurrect it and yet carry on as though that audience is still there.

I expect there'll be a few typos, spelling or grammar errors as I'm hoping to type most of it on a Kindle Fire HD.  It won't be easy that's for sure, given the problems typing and seeing what you have typed as you type.  Well, one thing's for certain, it's impossible to type it up in landscape.  There's just not enough display space for the keyboard and the actual blog type.  I must admit though that it reminds me of typing up the early years of this blog on a Psion Revo.  Nostalgia fest.

So, what's changed in the past two years?  Well, I suppose the biggest change has been my Man going into a nursing home:  Ashgrove House on Hollinwood Avenue.  It's most definitely the best solution.  She was wandering at night and in danger of heading outside her sheltered accommodation and not being able to get back in.  Her grasp of the reality around her was becoming tenuous. Eventually, in May 2013, the bullet was bitten and we engaged Social Services.  I have to say, Social Services were wonderful and they made what could have been a very traumatic experience so much easier.  The home itself is wonderful. They provide in house entertainment from singers and musicians, bingo and trips out to sing songs in the spacious lounge and mundane, yet profound (from the inhabitants point of view) and quotidian tasks as folding the washing.  She has regular visits from doctors, opticians and the rest; I should have organised it a year earlier I think.  Still, hindsight eh?  A wonderful thing.

The second big change must be the election of Dearest - she is now a Labour Councillor on Bentham Metropolitan Council.  After many years a semi-active Party member but a member of the National Executive Committee of her Banking Staff Association, she finally took the plunge and stood in a bye-election caused by the death of a long standing Councillor friend of ours.

I must say, she is the best, hands on, constituency Councillor you could ever wish for.  Engaged, positive, innovative, proactive:  a really great servant of the local community.  Mind you, she is my wife and I do love her dearly.  What she can't stand is the manoeuvring, the infighting, the politicking that goes on from dawn till dusk of the majority of the rest of the Chamber.  Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

The third big difference is the change that Littlest has brought to our lives.  What a gorgeous, entertaining, happy (mostly), bright and friendly little boy he has turned into.  He stays at ours overnight most Saturdays and it's a privilege and an absolute pleasure.  He's talkative, has a great sense of humour and has introduced us to so many great Pixar and the rest movies such as Rio, The Ice Age Series, The Shrek Series, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs and many more.  

He's soon going to have a cousin too as Eldest and Eldest's Darlin' are expecting another little boy due at the beginning of May.  Heady times.  Littlest will be (and is) a United fan whereas Smallest will be enrolled in City's fan club the day he's born I would imagine.  Proper Mancunians.  Love 'em.

And I suppose the fourth big difference over the past couple of years is the succes of the football club I have supported since the 4th February 1967.  Fa Cup, Premiership and hopefully - on Sunday - the Carling Cup.  The Champions League and the Premiership again don't look like they're on the cards, but I'm just thankful for the - mostly - exhilarating football we City fans have been presented with under Mancini and Pellegrini.  Thanks.

I'll have to re-acquaint myself with posting photographs again.  

Anyway, till next time......adios. 
   

Walking Home

Walking Home, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Office Floor

Office Floor, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Manchester's Central Park Tram Station

Manchester's Central Park Tram Station, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Joseph

Joseph, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Autumn Leaves Failsworth Park

Autumn Leaves Failsworth Park, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Manchester's Central Park Tram Station Dusk

Manchester's Central Park Tram Station Dusk, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Mancunian Skyline

Mancunian Skyline, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

AOTN Jon and Nina

AOTN Jon and Nina, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Gateshead Millenium Bridge

Gateshead Millenium Bridge, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

A Dog Bodrum

A Dog Bodrum, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Angel's Foot

Angel's Foot, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Baltic Flour Mill

Baltic Flour Mill, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Underneath

Underneath, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

River Twiss Pecca Falls

River Twiss Pecca Falls, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

River Twiss Swilla Glen Ingleton 3

River Twiss Swilla Glen Ingleton 3, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

River Twiss Thornton Force

River Twiss Thornton Force, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Spirit in the Sky

Cameron and Osborne.  Ideologically-driven small-Staters or just buffoons?

Either way the outcome's the same.  LACK OF DEMAND!

That'll be the demand we need to kick start the 'explosion' of private sector jobs the country was promised by the flower pot men in numbers 10 and 11 a couple of years ago.  Yes, a couple of years ago.  Two years and counting and in the meantime, due specifically to the economic policies adopted by Gideon and David, public spending is up and growth is down.  But still they won't tear their eyes from plan A. The 'market' will sort itself out eventually we just have to cut to the bone.  You couldn't make it up could you?

And you know what?  The bulk of the cuts haven't hit home yet - and that's just the ones they've already announced.  Presuming of course that there are no more embarrassing u-turns. 

In the meantime the front bench are doing their insidious best to demonise benefit claimants as much as they can.  Along with their friends in the media those at the bottom of the food chain are categorised as 'work shy', 'feckless' and 'feral'.  Ignoring the fact that the vast majority of claimants have to claim to top up the piss poor wages they receive from the self-same private sector that's going to drag us out of the mire we are in.  The self-same private sector that needs subsidising by the tax payer via tax credits for its employees because it can't/won't pay a living wage.  Still, that's the 'market' for you - skewed as ever towards the feral capitalists at the top of the food chain.

Are we going to have to suffer another decade like the 1930s before somebody, somewhere wakes up to the fact that Plan A isn't working and we are sacrificing a generation on the whim of a couple of multi-millionaires with all the empathy of Pol Pot.

Probably.

A few weeks ago we attended the funeral of a dear friend.  Barbara went relatively quickly - 3 months from diagnosis to the End.  We gave a lift to Tracy and Wallace as they had no transport.  They both joined us for a drink at the wake and reminisced about the past when all of us had been more active than we are now in the Labour movement.  A bitter-sweet afternoon bathed in nostalgia and regret.

Today I attended Tracy's funeral at the same crematorium.  She was 48. 

As we waited to enter I learnt that another lifelong friend has MS.

Don't talk to me of 'God'.

Cameraphone - It's Raining It's Pouring....

Cameraphone - My Trusty, Dusty Bass

Cameraphone - Baffled by Tactics

Cameraphone - Littlest In His Designer Sunglasses

Morgan Sports Car

Morgan Sports Car, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Show Offs

Show Offs, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Quotidian Blues

Just a few camera phone pics and a general sense of amazement that England have managed to get to the quarter finals of Euro 2012.  

A local school with added interesting light...

Bus stop

Red Stripe

My kids bought me a lovely Brunswick baritone uke for Father's day

Just sayin......

Waterfalls

A day up at Ingleton's wonderful waterfall trail.  Pretty arduous though - five miles but a five miles of constantly climbing before falling back down to Ingleton village.  I had forgotten my flask and sandwiches so I didn't eat until 4-o-clock.  I must confess the tanks had run out for the last couple of miles........Doesn't help carrying a tripod, DSLR, rucksack and the rest either....

Here comes the low cloud

River Twiss Hollybush Spout

River Twiss Pecca Falls

River Twiss Pecca Twin Falls

River Twiss Swilla Glen

River Twiss Swilla Glen

River Twiss Swilla Glen

River Twiss Thornton Force

Picture This

I've had plenty to say of late regarding this, that and the other, but I have tended to say it elsewhere. In the meantime I thought I'd stick some snaps up here just to keep the old blog ticking over.  I've retreated to my room for the duration of the Majesty-Fest going on all around me - Spotify, guitars, keyboard and photography have kept me sane this extended Bank Holiday weekend (Gawd bless yer Ma'am).  Dearest is in the garden.

I'll quietly carry on waiting for the collapse of Western civilisation and/or the end of the Coalition: whichever comes first.

Schindler's Lift

Mancunian Clouds over the Airport

It's a Hard Life #21

Underneath

The Foot of the Angel of the North

Baltic Flour Mills Gateshead with Added Millennium Bridge

From the Baltic Flour Mill Viewing Gallery

Tynemouth

Tynemouth Priory with Seagull

No Future

Curry n Chips Benidorm Feb 2012 Samsung Mobile Phone

This coming Friday 2nd March 2012 the British Aerospace factory that I worked in for thirty-odd years will close it's doors for the last time.  As they have done for years, the staff will 'bang out' each other as they leave for the very last time. 'Banging out' is banging benches with tools or desks with whatever office equipment makes a loud noise.  Going out with a bang. 

The end of an era. 

The factory was purpose built for aircraft manufacture by AVRO and originally opened in 1939.  They built Lancaster bombers here.  Later they built Vulcans and Nimrods as well as civilian aircraft such as the AVRO Anson and 748.  In the 1970s AVROS became part of the Hawker Siddeley group before nationalisation as British Aerospace and finally privatisation as part of  BAE Systems.  During the war it employed 11,000.  In it's post-war heyday it employed 6,000. 

On Friday the final 200ish will bid a forlorn farewell.  Some have managed to get jobs at the groups other plants (all involving a hell of a lot of travelling), others have bitten the bullet and taken redundancy. 

Dearest's mother worked there, my father worked there, Dearest's uncles worked there.  Eldest and Youngest have worked there - Youngest is still based there but will now have to commute 60 or 70 miles each day.  All around the area there are families whose working lives are intricately tied up with the place.  They were good jobs too.  Not McJobs but skilled jobs that paid well.  Apprenticeships and great training schools.  Proper career paths with plenty of opportunities to progress.  All gone now though.   

As well as the work there was also a vibrant and thriving social side to the place as well.  We had a lovely grade II Georgian house surrounded by football and cricket pitches, bowling greens and greenery.  There was a snooker and table tennis tables.  A darkroom for the camera club, discos, gala days, inter-departmental competitions as well as teams that played in local leagues.  Charities in the area benefitted enormously. 

Local businesses also thrived.  From engineering and office suppliers to shops, pubs and other services, the factory was a wealth generator. 

And now, it's gone. 

Sadly it's not alone.  In my local area over the last twenty years we have lost a hell of a lot of skilled jobs.  And I'm talking 1,000s of jobs here.  Within ten miles of my house, apart from BAE Systems there was Ferrantis and Mather and Platts.  Each one of them sustaining a little economic system around them.  Sub contractors, newsagents, pubs.........   Where I work now I can gaze out onto Salford Quays and the neighbouring Trafford Park - one of the biggest industrial estates in Europe employing 30,000 in it's prime.  A shadow of it's former self now with storage facilities and a couple of distribution centres.  Just a little further out is BAE Systems' Woodford factory, flight sheds and runway.  Another employer of 1,000s.  Now just expensive real estate waiting for a house builder to snap it up.  A housing estate in a lovely part of Cheshire.  Nice. 

We live in a post-industrial world. 

Still, it's not all bad news, Gideon and Dave have a plan for growth!  Honest.  In the past few years new jobs have been created in my area.  We have a Mega Tesco, open 24/7, an Aldi, KFC, McDonalds, Morrisons, Lidl.  All of them selling stuff to people with less and less to spend.  A sustainable economic model if ever there was one. 

I watched the first part of Jeremy Paxman's 'Empire' series.  A promising beginning.  Sumptuous photography, dramatic music and a wry presenter with a stiletto tongue (as and when required). 

I'm of an age where, as a child, the Empire was still very much assumed to still exist.  At primary school I can still remember the globes covered in pink.  The heroes we were taught about: Dr Livingstone, General Gordon, the Missionaries spreading good old fashioned English  Christianity to the poor savages of the African interior.  I can't remember any mention of the Empire's involvement in the slave trade or, for that matter, the Opium Wars. 

The world was a simple place as far as us kids were concerned.  Great Britain was the place to be and English was the nationality.  Hadn't we just won two world wars?  Weren't we a mighty Empire with Industrial might?  Nobody told us the Empire was on it's knees gasping for breath.  All these African nations with their 'terrorist' organisations such as the Mau Mau in Kenya were quite simply 'baddies'.  We were the goodies.  We were always the goodies.  We wouldn't indulge in war crimes.  It's just not cricket old boy. 

I thought Paxman got it spot on.  Our arrogance was astounding - especially when we made Egypt a 'Procectorate' in order to keep the Suez Canal open.  But, as Romans discovered, Empires don't last forever.  A lot of those 'freedom fighters/terrorists'' had been reading Gibbon. 

And that 'end of Empire' feeling is very much in my mind with the BAe closure.  During the post-war years the thought that a factory of that size would ever close was unimaginable.  Even during the lean years of the early 1980s when the redundancies first started, nobody could believe that this 'empire' too would one day end.  Unthinkable probably until about 2004/5 when they closed down the manufacturing bays leaving just the design and spares departments.  That's when you realise a tipping point has been reached.  They've nibbled away at it with the vicious tenacity of the savage hordes that finally did for the Romans.  The end really is nigh. 

That was one of the deciding factors when I took my redundancy back in 2007.   You really didn't need a crystal ball.    It's sad though, very sad.  I look at Littlest and think about his future.............................. 

Beach Fish Benidorm Feb 2012 Samsung Mobile Phone

Beach Benidorm Feb 2012 Samsung Mobile Phone

Super Heroes Benidorm Feb 2012  Samsung Mobile Phone

Stomping Down the Avenue by Radio City

Stomping Down the Avenue by Radio City, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

A snap from 2010. Dearest and I in NYC. The title comes from the Steely Dan number "Bad Sneakers". The 'Avenue' is obviously 5th Avenue - a few yards to the left in this snap and, well.....Radio City speaks for itself.

A gorgeous Art Deco piece of simply wonderful.

Aretha Franklin advertised on the billboard as well. Aretha - bloody - Franklin. Not Ken Dodd or Frankie Vaughan: Aretha Franklin!!!

Waiting for a Tram

Waiting for a Tram, a photo by Waka Jawaka on Flickr.

Waiting for the tram back into Manchester. This is Trafford Bar station at around 3:45 on a January afternoon.

I had been extremely lucky this day as there was chaos shortly after I arrived at work and also shortly before I set off for home.

I knew nothing of either hold ups and carried on in my unruffled way.

Met up with Dearest in Piccadilly and caught the 82 home. Picked my car up from the garage and gave the jolly mechanic £140.