FAMILY FOTO 36 - THE WELSH GIRLS (undated photo)

The Welsh Girls

This photo was one which came into my possession from my Aunt's collection, and found when we had to clear her bungalow for her to go into a nursing home in 2010. 

I gave the house clearance team (i.e. the other family members), a clear instruction - "....anything that looks remotely like 'family history' keep to one side, and then we'll put it into a box with 'DO NOT THROW AWAY!' written across its sides in big red letters. This unknown photo was only one of many  lovely items I came across in that box which I had never seen before.

I'm assuming the photo would have been taken by my grandad, William John Welsh, on his Kodak 'box brownie' camera, which I remember being brought out on a few occasions. The location is not at all clear, but I'm assuming that it will be one of the parks in Toxteth - Princes Park, which was a short walk from where the family lived in Hughson Street - or perhaps Sefton Park, which was a little further away. I don't think it is anywhere near their home, for I don't recall ever seeing a green space such as this anywhere near Hughson Street, which was surrounded by terraced houses and large tenement and court property. No... it is clear to me that the photo was probably recording a Sunday day out for the family... one that many families would have taken at that time.

My Mum Joan is the child standing in the front of the group. Aged about three years old, she is dressed in her 'Sunday best' dress, with a hairband holding back her tousled auburn hair. As she was born in 1933, this would place the date around 1936/37. Betty, her elder sister, is standing behind her... and potentially aged between 11 and 12 years old.

My grandmother Elizabeth Welsh (or Lizzie as everyone tended to call her) is also dressed in her Sunday best dress, just like her girls. 

Lizzie was employed 'in service'... working as a maid in one of the larger houses in Toxteth or Aigburth for an affluent family. Her duties might include cleaning or cooking... the latter of which she was really good at as I recall, but I have little hope of finding out which. There is a photograph of her in her younger years, with a team of other girls in uniforms, which implies that her services would be hired from an agency. One of my regular genealogical searches is to see if I can find any such local agencies whose books might have been transcribed and placed online somewhere.... I certainly haven't found it yet, but I'll just keep on searching - just in case. 

    

(c) 2024. G.Seaman

OCCUPATIONS IN GENEALOGY - THE TGWU BADGE

                                                         OCCUPATION - THE TGWU BADGE

In amongst the personal items, removed from my late Aunts bungalow when she moved into a care home in 2010, I found this small non-descript union badge for the TGWU... the Transport and General Workers Union.

She herself had no recollection of where it had come from. It wasn't hers she was sure, (although by this time her memory was failing due to suffering with dementia). I could only think that it belonged to either my grandfather, who worked for a time on the Liverpool docks, or my uncle Johnny Erlis, who was an engine driver on the docks. 

The badge was photographed and put away in a cupboard, along with the rest of my 'family heirloom' items... but thinking now that I should begin to resurrect the many facts (and tales) connected to the Seaman Family History in Liverpool, I've decided to make an effort and see if I can find out exactly who the badge actually belonged to. 

I might, of course, fail.... but at least I will have tried. I can't quite believe it that I haven't started looking into this earlier, and its now spent around fourteen years locked in a cupboard!

I'll now add it to my 'things to do list' and start my research online... then possibly I'll have to make a phone call or two ( and possibly a visit) to the union HQ itself, wherever that now is.

Wish me luck, for this could take some time... but hopefully not fourteen years!  

 

AN UNKNOWN BRIDESMAID - ST.PAUL'S CHURCH, PRINCES PARK, LIVERPOOL - 9th MARCH 1955

 

Pictured on her wedding day to my father, Charles SEAMAN, is my mother, Joan WELSH, together with her three bridesmaids.

On the right is her cousin, Marion ERLIS, and on her immediate left her chief bridesmaid, her sister, Elizabeth WELSH. 

However the identity of the lady on the absolute left is unknown. A replacement for my father's sister who was not able to attend, she was reported to be a friend of a cousin, and was said to not actually be a member of our family. Unfortunately, my mother cannot recall her name, and as far as I'm aware we don't have any other photographs of her apart from these, and certainly none with her name written on them. If anyone does happen to recognise her, I'd therefore appreciate if you could let me know, so I can let my Mum know once and for all!

The couple were married in St Paul's Church, Princes Park, Liverpool which had been situated on Belvedere Road. The church was demolished in 1970 and replaced by the new Belvedere School... now a successful preparatory school and Academy.

Further information about St Paul's Church can be found < here >....

#familyhistory    #genealogy    #seamanfamilyhistory

  

'REPAIR SHOPPING' THE FAMILY HEIRLOOM!

 

Following on from my earlier post regarding this treasured family heirloom, I found that I had two choices when the 91-year-old stool came into my possession. Either leave it as it was-- a bit beaten, battered and careworn-- or do what they would do on the popular hit TV programme, 'The Repair Shop', and repair it so that it lives again.

The two photographs above are the result.

Now with the wood strengthened, cracks glued and filled; nails taken out and painted; the child's stool created around 1930 by my Norwegian great-grandfather, Peder Gerhard Ingebretsen, now looks pretty much like it did when he first made it for his grand-daughter, my aunt, Elizabeth Welsh.

With one exception... the footmarks of our grandchildren-- Paige, Phoebe, Charlie, Demelza and Pearla. Space has also been left on the sides of the stool, just in case any further little additions to our family come along.

The item might not get used as it previously had, but to be sure it will continue to be loved and treasured by a new generation of the family.

Original post here: FAMILY HEIRLOOM - CHILDREN'S STOOL

#familyhistory #genealogy #familyheirloom

 

FRIDAY FOTO 28 - ARTHUR & EDNA TEESE - OUT FOR A STROLL

Out for a stroll on an overcast Sunday afternoon perhaps?

I found this undated photo in the collection of my aunt, Elizabeth Welsh after she had passed away.

The young couple is Arthur Teese (b.1918) and Edna Irvine (b.1921) - and they are taking a walk through an unidentified park, possibly one of the local ones in Liverpool. 

The family connection to the two of them was through Edna, who was my mother's cousin.

I remember the couple fondly from when I was young, and I recall how my brother and I would need to be on our best behaviour during their visits. 

Edna would act as if she was a stern school-mistress. Gary and I would have to tidy the toys up in our bedroom prior to them arriving, just in case she decided to inspect our bedroom to see if it was untidy. Arthur, on the other hand, would follow along behind his wife... cheerily calling me 'Haircut' and showing me the hair-clippers which he had hidden away in his jacket pocket. He'd walk past us and give us a friendly wink, and then pull a face and throw us a gurning smile, leaving my brother and I doubled up in stitches laughing.

I can't recall seeing this photo prior to finding it in Betty's archive a couple of weeks ago, but I'm so glad I found it. It brought back nice memories for me of the couple - especially to see them so young and apparently carefree together.

A lovely couple... and a nice photo of them both to treasure.

FRIDAY FOTO 15 - ELIZABETH WELSH, BUDGIES AND A CONCEALED RADIO

(My gran, Elizabeth Welsh)

There are a number of things in this photo which bring back memories for me.

The first, obviously, is my gran. In this photograph, which has been taken from a colour negative, Elizabeth is pictured sitting in her favourite chair in the front room of her house-- a two-up, two-down rented property in Hughson Street, Toxteth, Liverpool 8.   

I remember Lizzie, (as close family and friends knew her), as being a quiet, loving woman. She would most often be seen busying herself around the house, wearing her trademark 'pinnie'-- either preparing meals for the family or involved with general household cleaning duties. She loved to cook, and I remember standing or sitting beside her in the kitchen, while she allowed me to stick a spoon into a tub of cooking malt or sugary apple pie mix. I would have a smile on my face a mile wide as I sucked and licked the spoon dry afterwards.

But as I mentioned previously, I am reminded of a couple of other things on the photograph too.

The budgie, for a start.

There were three sets of animals in residence in Hughson Street at various times. Budgies, cats and Fred the tortoise (who had an unfortunate end while hibernating in the coal-shed). I remember a green budgie (Georgie-porgie), a yellow one whose name escapes me, and the blue one in this picture-- predictably named Bluey. He was a noisy specimen and can be heard twittering away to himself on a couple of audio tapes I still have. But he also had a bit of a mean streak in him-- and would viciously nip at our fingers if my brother or I were asked to change his cuttlefish bone for a fresh one.

The other memory I have is of the curtain behind my gran, or rather, what the curtain concealed.

There was a shelf built into this alcove and on it, my Dad-- who was well used to working with electrical equipment-- had installed a large valve radio set, and later a gramophone for the family's entertainment.

My Mum recalls that my Dad once fitted a microphone into the amplifier circuits of the equipment. During a family party, my grandad made an announcement through the radio while it was playing music, to play a trick on a relative-- Bridget Price, a cousin of my grandmother.

"Here is an official announcement. Would Mrs Bridie Price please contact the nearest police station. They have information which will be beneficial to her if she attends at her earliest convenience."

Thinking that the announcement was real, Bridie apparently almost fell off the couch in shock and became quite flustered at the thought of having to appear at the police station the following morning. But Mum recalls that everyone at the party had tears of laughter after Grandad's joke had been revealed, none more so than Bridie, who possessed quite a sense of humour herself as I recall. 

There is another memory of this equipment... involving a three-year-old, a mains lead, and a pair of nail clippers. But you can read more of this particular tale <here>.  

FRIDAY FOTO 11 - BETTY WELSH IN TOXTETH STREET, L8

(Toxteth Street, Liverpool 8)

Betty Welsh (right) and her friend Ruby out for a stroll in the sunshine. 

There is no date on the photo, but the presence of bunting and age of my aunt 

(around 19 years of age) seems to indicate that this was around the time of the 

VE day celebrations in May 1945. 

The location of the photo is believed to be Toxteth Street, 

which ran between Park Street and Harlow Street, Liverpool 8.

FRIDAY FOTO 9 - CHARLES IRVINE

A photo of my grandmother - Elizabeth WELSH (nee ENGLEBRETSEN) - attending a family party at her sisters home in Lordens Road, Huyton.

Pictured with her is her brother-in-law Charles IRVINE, the husband of her sister Hannah.

Born around 1892, Charles was father to five children - Charles Gerard (b.1916), May Henrietta (b.1918), Edna Marion (b.1921), Hannah (b.1924) and Lilian (b.1928).

Charles served in the Great War, although I have as yet been unable to find his war record.

His son Charles was tragically killed on 9th April 1945 at Bari, Italy when a liberty ship (the SS Charles Henderson) was being unloaded and the ammunition on it exploded.

Of the couple's children, the three middle sisters - May, Edna and Hannah - survived. I have fond memories of all three of them, and also the subsequent cousins (their children) who I grew up with.

I asked Mum about her specific memories of Charles Snr, and she recalled that he would often give her half an orange before she had her breakfast when she slept over. "Get that down you...it'll do you good," he'd tell her.

The final star of the photo above must be the phonograph - the handle on the front being used to wind the clock / spring mechanism inside which drove the turntable around and play the record. 

I have a few old 78 RPM records of my Mum's in the garage downstairs. 

I wonder if any of those were ever played during that happy family party, all those years ago.    

FRIDAY FOTO 7 - ELIZABETH WELSH (nee ENGLEBRETSEN)

 

Two photographs of my grandmother, Elizabeth Welsh (nee Englebretsen).

The first photo shows her photographed in a professional studio in Liverpool. It is estimated that she was around nineteen years of age when the photo was taken, which-- with Elizabeth's year of birth being 1895 --would put the date to be around 1914.

In the second photo, my grandmother is pictured standing on the steps of one of the large houses she used to serve. It is believed that she worked with an agency who provided service staff to families - for example, cooks, maids, cleaners, housekeepers etc. My aunt also informed me that she had been directly employed to at least one family as a general maid.

The houses were said to be those in the Princes Park area of Liverpool, which at the time were owned by prosperous businessmen and their families.

I'd love to be able to trace the property itself and see whether it is still there.

#familyhistory #genealogy #englebretsen    

FAMILY HEIRLOOM - CHILDREN'S STOOL

Handmade Heirloom in the garage...

I was tidying the garage today and came across this family heirloom on a shelf... a small children's stool/step which my aunt told me my Norwegian great-grandfather, Peder Ingebretsen, had made by hand around 1930. 

Peder was a mariner, and later on could be found working for the Blue Funnel line out of Liverpool, sailing as an able seaman on merchant ships taking goods and passengers up the Amazon to Manaus in Brazil. His occupation on his naturalisation papers gave his occupation as a ship's carpenter.

My gran used to use it to step on to reach the higher shelves in the pantry, and the children used it to sit on while they played. 

I know it's just a few battered pieces of wood, but the story behind it is worth much more to me than money could buy. I just hope that my own kids remember this tale, and how much this family treasure meant to me when I'm not here anymore and they're helping to clear out the garage! 

#familyhistory #genealogy #familyheirloom

FAMILY HEIRLOOM - GRANDAD'S SHIRT SUSPENDERS - William John WELSH

5/1/2017 - GRANDAD'S SHIRT SUSPENDERS

For Treasure Chest Thursday I give you a photo of my grandad - William John WELSH, pictured in the backyard of his home in Hughson Street, Toxteth in the mid 1950's.

Near his elbows on each arm, you can just see the folds caused by the elastic suspenders he was wearing, to keep his shirt cuffs clear of his hands which hopefully will keep them a little cleaner.

The shirt suspenders themselves are pictured on the right, and consist of a circle of elastic ribbon covered by thin flexible steel wire. These were left to me by my aunt Betty, Ellen Elizabeth WELSH, prior to her death.

I still keep them in the box with my other jewelry, and wear them sometimes when the occasion arises.

#familyheirlooms #treasurechestthursday #williamjohnwelsh #toxteth #shirtsuspenders 

FAMILY HISTORY - SHE LOVED TO SING!

My Auntie Bet just loved to sing.

She had a decent singing voice which was sometimes compared with that of the film actress, Teresa Brewer, whose movies Betty grew to love.

When we would gather at a family party and the beers had been flowing for a little while, someone would always be heard to say ‘Come on Bet… give us a song!’, after which she would stand herself in the corner of the room and sing out one of her favourite tunes ‘acapella’, to rapturous applause.

But she never pursued this talent in any professional kind of way. As far as I know she only ever sang at private family functions, and the odd performance which would take place during a ‘talent night’ in a pub or club. So unlike Teresa Brewer, there is not much evidence of her singing prowess to be seen out there… until now.

The photograph above shows three 78rpm discs which I inherited from my Aunt after she died. I’d found them stored at the bottom of a drawer unit, wrapped loosely in brown paper and lying together, with only one of the discs being kept in a sleeve. As well as all three being covered by years of dust and grime, the surface of one had begun to disintegrate entirely, with black chips of acetate falling away to reveal the metal disc inside it. Indeed one side of the record had been splashed with white gloss paint at some point in its lifetime, so I’m afraid that this record is potentially too far gone to save. The others however, although slightly scratched, are not too badly damaged and play reasonably well. I have each of the discs now stored individually, wrapped in acid-free paper and plastic archival sleeves, and have begun the process of converting them to digital audio.

 https://soundcloud.com/graham-seaman-1/family-archive-my-love-elizabeth-welsh

The audio track above is the first of these, and as the disc showed the least damage of them all, the track has not required much audio restoration to get it to this point.

The song itself is called ‘You My Love’, and is a cover of an original song which had been featured in the 1954 film ‘Young At Heart’, starring Doris Day and Frank Sinatra. The record was recorded live in The Gaumont, Princes Park Liverpool, and features the cinema’s own mighty Wurlitzer organ which was used to accompany her during the song.

The method of recording the sound was both simple and ingenious at the same time.

These were the days just before tape recording equipment became less expensive and therefore popular with the general public, and recordings at that time were being made using discs covered with a thin film of a special lacquer. The engineer would bring the recording equipment out with him during such sessions, and set up perhaps one or two microphones to capture the sound from the different sources (in this case, my aunt’s voice and the cinema organ). The sound would be cut straight onto the disc as they both performed, the recording lathe cutting a groove into the surface of the acetate as the song progressed, and the records could then be taken home and played shortly afterwards.

Betty singing at a talent night at a holiday camp in Morecambe Bay.

Some years ago, before Betty died, I made an initial recording of the tracks and cut them to a CD for her to play at home. It had been done to try and lift her spirits as she had not been well. Her dementia had started to become a real problem for Betty in latter years, and we decided that if we could do anything which would stimulate her memory and perhaps slow down the onset of the disease, then we needed to do it. The quality of the tracks was not perfect, but this didn’t matter for it made her happy to listen to them – this was the first time she had heard the music for many decades. The CD therefore served its purpose and brought back the happy memories and lifted her – if only for a little while.

We played this track during her funeral service in 2011 and I know that it came as a surprise to a few of those people outside the family to hear it, as they had only known her as a frail and infirm woman rather than the fun-loving and vibrant Betty Welsh that we had all known.

So now I’m revisiting this part of my family history, taking each track and digitally cleaning it up using the software I have in my home studio. A few of the others might take a little longer, but i’ll publish them on Soundcloud and on my genealogy blog here as I complete them, along with the other audio archiving I’m currently working on.

Okay. It might be a little bit corny for me to say it, but I think I must.

‘Come on Teresa… move over… just a little bit… and make room for my Auntie Bet.’

FINDING HUGHSON STREET - UK 1911 Census Address Search

The photograph on the left-hand screen below shows my mother, brother and I standing on the step on my Gran and Grandad’s house at 25 Hughson Street, Toxteth, Liverpool. At a guess I’d say the photo had been taken at the end of the 1960’s. I’d spent the whole of my early life living in the house - a simple two-up, two-down dwelling; with a front parlour and a back kitchen, a yard and outside toilet to the rear. And then, when I was seven years of age, we moved up into the ‘leafy suburbs’… and my Mum and Dad’s first rented property of their own in Childwall.

Hughson Street - Census Search

The property in Hughson Street went back somewhat longer however. The rows of terraced properties had been built around the turn of the century, the small neat houses replacing the slum court dwellings which had been situated there previously. The houses had been rented out to tenants, and although I grew up primarily only knowing it as the home of my Gran and Grandad, I found out later that other families had lived at the address before we did.

The details of one of those families is featured in the right-hand side of the photograph.

For my online family history research I use Ancestry.co.uk when looking for information on the UK census records, and although there is no specific address search on the site one can still search for addresses by using the fields ‘Lived In Location’ and also ‘Keyword’. By just using this simple search criteria I found my record relatively easily by entering ‘Toxteth, Lancashire, England’ into the first field, and then the address itself into the second. Although my search did not immediately return the property I was looking for, it did however return one of the other houses in Hughson Street into the search results and I then used the ‘previous / next’ buttons to scroll through the pages to find the actual address I was looking for.

The census for 1911 shows that the residents in 25 Hughson Street were a 39 year-old widow, Elizabeth Flannigan, and her family. She had two daughters living with her in the property - Margaret aged 21, and Lelly Flannigan who was 18. All three of the women had been born in Liverpool.

However, on the night when the census had been taken there were four visitors to the property. Patrick Flannigan (aged 71) was a farmer from Greencastle, County Donegal in Ireland. This was also the birthplace of Edward Flannigan, a 32 year-old joiner, and John Drummond, a 43 year-old dock labourer. Finally there was yet another dock labourer, James Ennorby, who was also visiting and was listed as a widower. Of course, Patrick and Edward were most likely related to Elizabeth (perhaps they were her father and brother). The relationship of the other two men to their host is not known.

On speaking to my mother about her memories of the house during the 1930’s, she recalls that my Gran and Grandad were renting it from the landlord as far as she can remember, but my great-grandfather Peder Ingebretsen - a Norwegian merchant seaman - had also been living there up until he died in 1933. From that point on, the house stayed with our family right up to the 1970’s when the properties within the area had compulsory purchase orders finally served upon them, and the residents (in our case my Grandmother and Aunt) were moved out.

Ancestry - Address Search Criteria

Using the search capabilities of Ancestry in this way has been a most interesting exercise for me, and its been useful to look into the history of a property I can remember so well, and indeed at one time called home. But by ‘walking’ myself through the 1911 census pages in this way, I was also able to find names of other families who my Mother remembered as living in the area later on… such as Thomas and Phoebe Moss of number 21, and William and Annie Black of number 17. This brought her a lot of pleasure as she recounted her memories of what it was like to grow up within the area, and in particular relating to me what she remembered about their other neighbours who lived close by.

All I can say is that it only takes a few minutes to carry out a search such as this. If you have an old property which played a similar role in your own family history, I’d thoroughly recommend you try this method as well!

FAMILY HISTORY - HUGHSON STREET, LIVERPOOL 8

HUGHSON STREET - LIVERPOOL 8 (click for video)

This is a short segment of converted movie film showing some of our family in Hughson Street, Toxteth, Liverpool. As well as seeing a few of the family themselves, there are also glimpses of the area around my gran and grandad's house, with Northumberland Street at one end, after passing Prophet Street just seen on the right. Toxteth Street is at the other end, across Park Street which led up toward our school.

The film was shot around 1965 / 1966 and you can clearly see the 'bommies' - those empty spaces where houses once stood before they were blasted by the German bombs which fell during the war. One of them lies alongside our own house, the bomb falling as my Mum and parents sheltered in their bomb shelter, which stood in the yard just to the left of where my grandma was standing in the above photograph. My very existence being saved by a mixture of pure chance as to where the bomb fell, and also a few layers of sturdy brick. 

 Finally there are some shots of the cobbled streets, new housing being built and also our own back-yard - whitewashed to make it look as sparkling as the washing Gran used to hang on the line.  

Mr brother Gary playing my plastic 'Beatles' guitar, and also myself - on the same toy drum-kit I played on March 1st 1966 while sitting in front of their black and white TV, watching a broadcast of the Beatles live from Shea Stadium.

This is just a short glimpse of our lives back then... I only wish I had more. 

I hope you enjoy it...

FAMILY HISTORY - MIDDLETON TOWER HOLIDAY CAMP

This is the story behind two ordinary family photographs.

For years I had not thought much about them, but then I embarked on this current fascination of looking at the record of our family heritage, and realized that there might be more to these familiar images than I had initially thought.

Betty, my Gran, Michael and Hannah having a meal at Middleton Tower

 The first image shows a small group from our family being served a meal in a restaurant. The second is an image of my aunt singing in a bar, with two members of the resident band backing her up. I had the first in my possession already, for it had been mounted in one of our family photo albums. The second was a new find, and one which only surfaced following my aunt’s passing in 2011. The fascinating part for me was the little-noticed legend featured in the bottom corner of both shots - ‘A Middleton Tower Holiday Picture’. It was only after I decided to do a little online research into this hitherto unheard of location that the backstory behind the photos gradually started to become clearer.

Middleton Tower was a holiday camp, situated on the north-west coast in Morecambe Bay, Lancashire. The camp, which originally opened in 1939, was managed by Pontins for the majority of its life until it closed in 1994. The site is now the location of a community of retirement homes. It was the usual practice in such places to employ a ‘house’ photographer - someone whose job it was to ensure that the holiday memories of the visitors of the camp would be captured and recorded. In these days of camera phones, iPad’s and computer tablets it is strange to think of a time when photography was quite an elite hobby, for even if your family was lucky enough to own a camera, (the box Brownie perhaps being the most common), the price of the film itself would be prohibitive for the majority of people. It was for this reason that the holiday camp photographer would be assured of being gainfully employed during their busy periods.

In the first photograph the subjects have been caught just settling down to eat their meal. This may be the reason why the older women, (my grandmother and her sister Hannah), look less comfortable with the situation. All they want to do is to get on and enjoy their food and instead they were being held captive by the photographers lens. The two empty seats in the foreground might belong to two people who were not part of the family group - strangers who vacated their seats temporarily to allow my family to be photographed on their own together - as it was common practice for campers to be encouraged to mingle with each other in such a way. In reality, the photos would be taken at different times throughout the day by the photographer. He or she would walk around the camp, paid to seek out likely suspects who were just going about their business of having a good time, and then talk them into posing for the shutter. After a few hours the photographs would be available for viewing and purchase in the camp shop. Ultimately this was meant to generate income and help with the advertising of the camp, so the photographer would try and ensure that they never took a bad shot - trying his/her best to have their subject posed comfortably smiling, eyes open as the flash went off, so that there would be more chance of the holidaymakers actually putting their hands in their pockets to buy them. The two photographs here have been printed on card, and have a postcard form laid out on the back. This meant that not only could the holidaymaker obtain a happy reminder of their holiday to keep for posterity, but they would also have the opportunity of sending the photograph back home to their nearest and dearest, and let their relatives all see just what a good time they were having during the holiday.

Betty singing in the 'Wonder Bar', Middleton Tower

Middleton Towers also had a 2000 seat theatre, otherwise known as the SS Berengaria, which had been constructed in the style of an ocean liner. Also within the building was housed a restaurant, two lounges and a bar. My aunt loved to sing and had a mezzo soprano vocal range which would often be heard during family parties etc. as she entertained us. Betty never pursued music professionally, and so the photograph of her singing into a mike with the house band might have been taken during the ‘talent show’ - a form of live entertainment which would have been popular at the time. While studying the photograph more closely I had noticed a partially visible sign to the top left of the image, having ‘…der Bar’ written upon it. Within the online research material I discovered, I found a photograph of a map of the site, which had been scanned from a copy of the holiday camp brochure that had been previously released in 1955. This clearly showed several bars dotted around the site, (..the Clubhouse Bar, Tudor Bar etc.), and I then spotted an area labelled the ‘Wonder Bar’ within the main building itself.

It seemed that not only had I been able to find out more about the camp itself, but I’d now also discovered the likely location of the place where my aunt had been photographed during her actual performance. I was really pleased in the information I’d been able to find about the camp in the end, as it had moved the story of these postcards forward so much for me. I’d progressed from knowing only the slightest details about them, to now being able to tie the images down to a physical location and learning more about its history.  The ‘devil is in the detail’ as they say. And the story behind every photograph can be discovered if you are lucky, and also look hard enough to find it. I wonder how many other photographs like these lie waiting to be discovered within family albums elsewhere?

FAMILY HISTORY - ST.CHRISTOPHER PICTURE (1928)

ST.CHRISTOPHER PICTURE

This is a small picture of St.Christopher, the patron saint of travellers, which currently hangs in the porch of our home in Childwall, Liverpool.

I found the family heirloom object hidden in a drawer in my aunt's home, buried under a collection of random papers, after she had passed away and we had the job of clearing all her possessions from the property. I remember the moment so clearly when I found it, because it was already familiar to me. I'd seen it many years before as an adult, when I had discussed its history with my aunt, but more importantly I also remembered the artifact from when I was a child.

According to my aunt this small object was handmade by my Norwegian great-grandfather, Peder Gerhard Ingebretsen (later to become translated to Peter Englebretsen following his naturalization in England). Peder was a merchant seaman and lived at the family home in Hughson Street, Toxteth in between his visits to sea. The property had a small vestibule which joined the main front door to the front room, and this picture was hung within it for many years, serving as a token which would hopefully bring good fortune and a safe journey to anybody who passed it on their way out of the house.

The picture itself is printed on a card which would more usually be kept in a purse or wallet. It is relatively small,  11 by 7 cms in size, and has a plain plywood backing with a glass front. Both have been smoothed down at the edges for safety. The three metal supports for the glass are held in by two panel pins and a loop of flat brown elastic is used to hang it from the pin at the top.

At the time I found it I asked my Mum whether she wanted to keep hold of the picture herself, but instead she stated that she would prefer it if I looked after it. I decided that I wanted the item to be seen rather than to be hidden away in the family history cabinet where I keep a few other precious possessions, and with this in mind I knew there could only be one place to display it. Our front porch... the single place where all visitors pass who come into our home.

From the information passed down from the family, I would calculate that this object is around 85 years old at the present time. It is rather satisfying therefore to think that the St.Christopher is still serving as a token to keep my own family safe, in just the same way that my great-grandfather had used it all those years ago.

FAMILY HISTORY - THE BOMMIE (1959)

The photograph attached here shows a young three year old boy (yours truly) standing in an ordinary street in Liverpool in 1959. The house behind me was the home of my grandparents, Lizzie and William John (aka Jack) Welsh, and it was an ordinary two-up, two-down terrace in Toxteth, just like thousands of others in many similar streets throughout the city.

To the right of the house is what was known in Liverpool as a ‘bommie’. This was a flat area of land, sometimes rubble strewn, which represented all that remained of a building that had been destroyed during the German bombing raids during WW2. Even though it was probably thirteen years after the war had ended when this photograph was taken, it was not the general policy of the local Corporation to spend money rebuilding properties on small pockets of land such as this. What funding they did have was being spent developing new housing estates away from the city centre, out toward the green belt land which would eventually make up the suburbs. So while this piece of rough dirt and broken rubble might well have been a blight on the local landscape, along with countless others like it the land would become a playground for youngsters just like myself, until eventually the entire area would be cleared and redeveloped with new housing many years afterward.

Yours truly in dubious trousers outside my Gran's house in Hughson Street

This bommie had been a house almost exactly the same as the one my grandparents lived in until one fateful night during an air raid when the property took a direct hit from a German bomb.

At the time of the raid the occupant of the house, a lady called Mary O'Prey, was sheltering in my grandmother’s air-raid shelter in the back yard. There would have been plenty of space inside for several families, who would sit out the raid using orange boxes or whatever they could find for seats, wrapping themselves in blankets as protection against the cool night air - their faces illuminated by a couple of flickering candles as they would read or sing songs to their children in an attempt to reassure them. Some of the men would be absent during the raids. Just like Mr O’Prey and my grandfather they had a common duty to fulfill and would be out on the streets, air-raid wardens who braved the elements and the bombs to patrol their local area.

The sound from the bombs plunging down from the sky around them must have been deafening; with hundreds of explosions being heard from Dingle to the town centre as the shadowy swarm passed by overhead. The growing drone from hundreds of aero engines filled the air, but presently even these were superceded by the unmistakable whistle and banshee wailing of a German bomb falling worryingly close by. All would hold their breath and pull their babies closer to them, closing eyes and muttering words of comfort to themselves as the sound grew to a terrifying crescendo. It would have ended with a sickening thud, followed almost immediately by an enormous explosion - the sudden noise shaking the ground and also the strong brick walls which surrounded them. Slowly, as the noise died away and dust settled within the shelter, Mrs O’Prey was heard to turn to my Gran and say: 'There you go. You've lost your house Lizzie!". However, when the all-clear was finally given and everyone made their way wearily out of the shelter, it was only then that the woman realized it was, in fact, her own home which had actually been destroyed. The shock and devastation she had probably felt at that time just cannot be imagined.

And so it was that thankfully, my family was one of those who had the good fortune to survive those terrible nights in Liverpool. If it would have been any different, or the bomb had fallen a few feet further over to the left, then that three year old boy might well not be around to tell the story he’s telling now. However, my family were not the only individuals who had good fortune that night. As a postscript to this story I can reveal that the family had a pet dog which was reportedly in the house at the time of the blast. The dog was later found, shaken but alive, inside a house in Fernie Street about thirty yards away. It had been blown up into the air by the force of the explosion and sailed right through a back window of the property to land within the bedroom beyond!

Some of those same Fernie Street properties can be seen in the photo behind me but alas, the name or breed of the fortunate dog is not known.

FAMILY HISTORY - NAILCLIPPERS

This photograph is a gentle everyday scene of my aunt giving the budgie a kiss in my gran's house in Toxteth.

Bluey, (for that was his name), was only allowed out of his cage under the strictest control, for it stood in the front room of the house very close to where the vestibule, front door and therefore possible 'budgie freedom' were located. Nevertheless, to all intents and purposes he was a happy soul - sitting on his perch chirruping away through the day, until - in the late evening - someone would throw a tea-towel over his cage in an attempt to urge him to shut up and go to sleep at night. There were a few versions of Bluey who lived in Hughson Street over that time, and each of them loved just as much as this particular little tyke was. Exactly why there were so many budgerigars processing through the house at that time I was never told, although the fact that the family also had cats living in the house might have had something to do with it!

Auntie Bet and 'Bluey' the budgie....

Anyway, I digress. All this idle chatting about budgerigars is just an aside really, for what I really wanted to talk about was nail clippers - more specifically, my auntie's silver-plated nail clippers with the hole in them. The hole? Yes, you read that correctly. A hole which had been perfectly formed and cut right through the blade. But how was this possible?

It's easy...

You know the score. When you're three years old you'll pretty much play with anything, and at times most of these things you really shouldn't go anywhere near. Of course you don't know this until later however, when a grown up - possibly your Mum or Dad - catches you out, gives you a smack behind the knees and yells 'Now that's naughty!' at you in a loud stern voice. The tears flow, you stop whatever you're doing, (permanently, if you know what's good for you), and life carries on. The majority of us will then grow up to be perfectly rounded individual's who will learn a valuable lesson from the event, and forever resist the urge to be scarred for life in the future, through being subjected to the occasional bout of corporal punishment. And so it was with me and the nail clippers.

I'd obviously picked them up from somewhere, and although I can't actually remember doing so, I must have thought to myself just how much like my Dad's wire cutters they looked, as he'd worked on the radio in the corner of the room earlier that day. You can clearly see the radio in the photograph. Also note the mains cable, that twisty brown cloth-covered stuff which was forever getting itself into knots, which snaked out from the shelf to disappear into the plug on the wall behind the budgie cage. Talk about a tempting sight!

Of course the difference was as follows:
a) Dad's wire cutters had rubber insulation on the handles, the nail clippers didn't.
b) Dad knew that above all else you should always respect electricity, and of this, I hadn't a clue.
c) Finally, Dad had carefully switched off the power at the socket and pulled out the plug before he went anywhere near the radio....
....and I'd done precisely zip!

The outcome therefore was somewhat inevitable.

With no adults in the room to stop me, I decided to follow my Dad's lead and have a go at rewiring the radio. As the blade of the nail clippers cut into the live mains cable there was an almighty bang and a very bright flash of light. The adults all came running into the room at once from the kitchen, and at first were somewhat confused because I was nowhere to be seen. According to what my Dad told me years afterward, they didn't quite know what was going on as there was a strong smell of burning insulation in the room and I'd apparently disappeared without a trace. It was only after they heard my groaning coming from underneath the sideboard, and spotted the nail clippers on the carpet with a perfectly round hole cut through the two blades, that they finally put two and two together and worked out what had happened. They picked me up and started consoling both themselves and me at the same time.

My saviour... Clarks shoes...

Somehow, incredibly, I'd survived. It could have been the insulating power of the thick soles of my Clarks shoes which saved me, but the force of the blast had blown me right off my feet and flung me at least eight feet across the room to land beneath the sideboard. According to family legend I started crying almost at once as I was extricated from under the furniture. I might even have cried a bit more after my Dad had screamed "Now that's naughty!" at me.

But the important thing is that I'm still here...and so are the clippers, now put away safely in the loft inside a keepsake box, away from the prying little fingers of my grand-daughter Paige. The budgie and the Clarks Shoes however, sadly, are no more.