A photo, taken on my Grandad's Kodak 'Brownie' camera, of my aunt Betty and cousin Lilian in Hughson Street, Toxteth.
Taken in the mid-1950's, it shows the two of them standing in the sunlight outside my Gran and Grandad's house at number 25. I lived in the house up until the age of seven and I remember both it, and the surrounding area, very well indeed.
To the left of the photo are the remains of a coal merchants property; the large 'court' properties which used to stand along here had now been demolished to make way for new housing to be constructed.
In the background stands a large warehouse on Northumberland Street. The docks were not very far away from Hughson Street, and this type of warehouse was a common sight around the local area. Some of the warehouses still remain to this day but are now being used for other purposes, such as up-market apartments, gyms, restaurants and nightclubs.
Just to the right of my cousin's head is Prophet Street, again featuring the same two-up, two-down houses similar to the ones we lived in on the right of the photo. This was where Lilian lived with her parents - John and Martha Erlis - in number 13, opposite the sweet shop on the corner of Prophet and Fernie Street.
Apart from the people, lots of good memories of growing up in that street come flooding back to me when I look at this photo. For example, I used to have races with my mates around the blocks of houses on my first two-wheeler bike. I also recall the sound of the horse and cart of the rag and bone man-- his voice calling 'any old cloth, any old iron!' as they trundled along the cobbled street at walking pace, a group of kids running along behind.
I also remember playing with those gas pipes which entered the houses alongside the front door. They were bound in black cloth tape and sealed with a tar-like paint which used to melt in hot weather. We'd sit outside in the sunshine, pulling and twisting the tape into sticky shapes with our fingers. Nearly always receiving a telling off from the adults when they saw we had sticky tar all over our fingers and clothes!
These small memories of happy times were all triggered by looking at that photo.
Even the simplest photograph from a family album should be treasured, because behind each one of them is a story just waiting to be told...
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