Connections

All my concentration was focused on missing the cracks in the pavement combined with keeping a pre-determined rhythm which went along the lines of ‘ duh duhleduh duh duh – duh duh!’ After each completion of this ‘melody’ my hand would snake out and grab a leaf from the endless privet hedges which adorned my 2 mile walk through the estate to catch the bus to school.  There were other equally as meaningless tasks in my rucksack of tricks. Occasionally I would look up and see someone far ahead crossing my path, then I would have a sub-objective of reaching a certain point before they did. The failure to do so would almost certainly result in a total cataclysm and the world would rush into a volcano of interstellar activity bringing the 5 billion people on the planet to a sudden and desperately painful end.

Ferny Brow Road Woodchurch

And all of that would be my fault, my doing, so I just had to make it to the corner of Big Meadow Road before the postie whilst still maintaining my rhythm of ‘ duh duhleduh duh duh – duh duh!’ and grabbing the appropriate number of privet leaves.

Thankfully that morning I made it to the bus stop having completed all the elements of my mission and I stood away from the main queue waiting for the number 46. Standing away from the main queue was not only essential it had a certain kind of cool attached to it. It showed that you weren’t part of the flock of faceless people and put  you in control, at least that’s what I told myself. I went straight upstairs when the bus came , along with all the other cool kids. It was only the nerds and dipsticks who travelled downstairs and besides smoking was limited to upstairs. There were lots of familiar faces in the smoke filled upper deck and caps and bags were being thrown about. I darted to the empty front seats and plonked my haversack down at the same time as a voice cried “I bags the front!” It was one of the boys from the fifth form, a tall lanky geezer with a fag hangin out of the corner of his mouth and a squint eyed look, caused by the bluey grey smoke curling up his face.

“Oh it’s you.” he said casting a disparaging look at me. “Park your butt then. Looks like we got here at the same time.” Nick Winter was part of the ‘in crowd’ so I mumbled my thanks and sat down timourously, nodding my appreciation.

“Watcha up to finkface?” I took these words to be some form of cool greeting though in all honesty they were delivered with a hint of menace and I just grinned and said ‘Off to school like most days.” This remark brought a peel of mocking laughter from Nick so I looked at him curiously and asked stupidly,” So what you up to?”

“Goin’ in to town, aren’t I. Got some vinyl I wanna sell. Wanna come with me?

Had he really asked me that question? Me a mere third former who was wet behind the ears and well below him in coolness? “Er … not sure. I mean I’d miss class and everythin'” I suddenly felt out of my depth here after all catching a ferry to Liverpool on a Monday, a school day … what would everyone say?

“Nah s’alright. Just thought you’d enjoy the scene y’know. But if you prefer school … No sweat.” Nick said with what I thought was a smirk on his face.

“Oh yea I’m sure it would be boss.” I blurted out. “And I can take or leave school. It’s just , it’s just …” my voice tailed off desperately trying to find the reason why I shouldn’t sag off school and sail across to the big city.

“S’ok mate prolly a daft idea anyway. It’d cost ya too much an you’re only a sprog.”

“I’ve got money.” I said quickly as I clutched two half crowns in my pocket, my five shilling dinner money for the week. “Look! This’d get me over there wouldn’t it?” I shoved the silver under his nose and a grin slowly came across his face followed by an anguished glance.

“S’pose so. Nah maybe we should give it a miss. I’ll try an sell this gear some other time … though the ten quid would come in handy for the parties this week.”

My heart skipped a beat and I saw the chance for adventure and cool parties being dragged from my reach. “No no we can do it. yea let’s go. I’m in!”

A beaming smile spread across his face. “Right on brother. I’ll pay you back just as soon as we sell the vinyl and we can get bacon sarnies at Joes place on the pier head.”

We stayed on the bus as others got off on their trek to a normal school day and finally we arrived at the Woodside terminus connections to the world. Commuters were hurrying from buses and trains down to the landing stage for the ferries and we joined the bustling crowds, Nick paying our threepence to ride the boat across The Mersey. Making straight for the upper deck we were carried away by the throng taking their  constitutional round and around the deck, brollies in hand, hats held on against the breeze that whipped through from the Irish sea. Nick and I laughed as we joined the entourage striding briskly almost as if their lives depended on walking in unison.

Promenade

Mersey Ferry

We managed to jump out of the formation walking contest and stood against the rails where Nick lit up a fag as cool as James Fean ever was and offered me one. “Park Drive.” he said as if that would have any meaning to me. My only experience of fags was the Woodbines Mum smoked and Golden Virginia that Dad used to roll his own. I took the proffered cigarette and bent to the lit match. Inhaling the acrid smoke my lungs seemed to burst and I let out a huge spluttering cough as Nick looked on nonchalantly blowing smoke from his nose. This being cool thing was a pain but I was determined to hack it out.

“Great smoke.” I managed to blurt out as I looked back to The Wirral disappearing across the water. “I usually smoke Woodbines … that is .. well .. one time Alan Williams brought in some Passing Clouds and Cocktail Sobranies that his ‘rents had and they were pretty cool.”

Nick’s attention was on the receding coast line and I quickly pointed out to him where I had been born. “Just there .. beyond Camel Laird Shipyard. That was our old house in Tranmere. between Vicky Park and Mersey Park. He didn’t seem to be impressed.

Where I was born

“Tell ya what. Lend me that five bob you’ve got and we’ll grab a sarnie first thing an i’ll pay ya back when we sell these albums.” his look was that of the big brother I never had and after all he’d paid for the ferry. I quickly took out the silver coins and handed them over with a smile. I continued to gaze over the land we had just left and felt a twinge of guilt that I was bunkin’ off school to go on a joyride but it lasted only a second as Nick grabbed my arm and pointed across the boat to a giggle of schoolgirls.

“Hey, over there. Some likely talent eh?” I was dumbstruck as he cut across the swathe of walkers, dragging me with him and ignoring the curses  and  grunts of ‘watch where you’re goin … blitherin idiots.’.  We came face to face with what I can only describe as angels of the first order. Long flowing hair, cherubic smiles and coy almost demure looks. My heart was racing as Nick introduced himself and me, asking, “So watcha up to ladies? Fancy coming with us into town, see where the action is?”

I was just standing by, clicking my heels, trying to hide my embarrasment and gazing out over the Wirral. I had half an ear on Nick’s chat with the girls but my attention had been caught by a bustle of activity on the river front. Nick was nudging me, “Whatcha think mate?” I looked stupidly at him and blurted out, “I think there’s summat goin’ on at the abattoir … look!” Nick and the girls pulled faces and made euk sounds as I tried to make out what was happening with all the people shouting on the river front. I could make out the huge bulk of the Leinster, one of the Irish cattle boats that brought our meat in from overseas. My Dad told me all about that last year when we were walking down the New Chester Road and there was a horrible pong, like bein’ in the countryside but we weren’t.

“Look .. look.” I cried loudly. “There’s a cow in the water, swimmin for freedom.” I remembered feelin’ a bit sickly when my Dad had told me how they used to bring in the cows and take them to the abattoir to kill them so that we could have a Sunday roast. I felt so sorry for those poor animals and I vowed never to eat Sunday roast ever again. It’d been hard but every Sunday I would refuse to eat anything if there was meat on my plate, despite my Mum telling me that we ate meat most days, after all spam sarnies or corned beef hash wasn’t meat … was it? I never really made the connection until that day walking past the abattoir and the tannery but now I had there wasn’t any choice in the matter. When I said my prayers at bedtime I’d put my hands together and say, Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and please God look after Mum and Dad and keep all the animals safe oh and my brothers and sisters too.

Anyway it kind of didn’t work ‘cos the smell of death used to creep into my dreams and I’d wake up in a cold sweat screaming for all the cows and sheep to run away, to escape their fate. But now  I was looking on in amazement at one of the cows swimming to freedom and it seemed that all the businessmen walking round and round the boat had stopped and all piled over to the rails to shout and cheer the poor animal on.

“Go on my son!” the cry went up “Look at him go … hahaha ! ” it seemed that my prayers had somehow been answered and all of these grey men were on my side too, what a result! The ferry was half way across to Liverpool and it started turning and with it the huge crowd moved as one from one side to the other, taking me and nick and the girls with them, screaming and whooping. At one point I was convinced the boat was about to capsize and that we’d all be thrown into the waves alongside the escaping cow. How on earth was I goin’ to explain that away? It now appeared that a small boat had been launched and the cow was being herded back to the shore. A series of boos and hisses went up from the throng who were obviously now keen to see the animal escape and when it became obvious that the cow was heading back to dry land, crys of “Shame, let it go, poor thing.” were shouted with cupped hands.

Suddenly the cow was tearing up the foreshore still intent on freedom and it galloped off knocking down the men who were trying to stop him. Crack! Crack! The short sharp sound took us all by surprise and all voices were hushed. There was just the thrum of the massive engines and the waves washing by. It took a few seconds for it to sink in and then there was a gentle murmur and tuts and clucks. Some of the crowd dispersed and continued on their tour round the deck and within a minute they were all gone, moving through the cool breeze. My eyes were glued to the shoreline where I could see the crowd gathering around the cow which had been shot. Shot for daring to make a bid for freedom. Shot to ensure Sunday roast. Shot because man had dominion over animals. For me the connections would always be there. Tow the line, follow the herd so we can shoot you down. Try to escape and we’ll chase you down.

The ferry pulled into the pier head. I didn’t go with the herd. I stayed on to take the air and taste freedom whilst I could.

end

A  Lucky Escape ( British Pathe )