My first job - Sweeting Street

I left Grammar School in 1954, aged 15 and with no qualifications. It wasn’t that I was stupid, I was in the A form, but family circumstances dictated that I should leave school early – there was no possibility of my being able to stay on in the Sixth Form, so I might as well have that extra year’s wages.

I left school on July 25th and a couple of weeks later I was interviewed for a job as a typist in a Law Stationers’ office in the heart of Liverpool, about 15 miles from my home. (I was born in Toxteth, but the family moved out ‘to the sticks’ at the beginning of World War II when I was just a couple of months old.) I’d gone to the interview armed with a letter of recommendation from a neighbour, who just happened to have some distant family connection to the owners of the firm. The letter did the trick – although I prefer to think that I got the job because I was a presentable, obviously intelligent, 15 year-old!

I began my job with two distinct disadvantages. Not only was I completely baffled by the term ‘Law Stationers’, but I had never even seen a typewriter, let alone used one. However, like Barkis, I was ‘willing’.

The firm was owned and run by a father and son whom the staff called ‘Mr Charles’ and ‘Mr James’. Mr Charles was an elderly, distinguished-looking gentleman with silver hair and a refined voice; he occupied an inner sanctum from which he rarely emerged. Mr James, on the other hand, was a short, portly man with a strong Liverpool accent, a rough and ready boss with a knack for getting an enormous amount of high quality work from his typists. On my first day he sat me between two older girls at one of the long wooden benches that filled the ‘typing room’. In front of me was a black, shiny monster of a machine, round keys with metal rims steeply banked (you soon learned to keep your nails short) and a carriage that was at least two feet long. Mr James’s first instruction to me was, ‘Sit there and teach yourself to type’! As a puny, six and a half stone 15 year-old I soon learned to tame that beast – in fact I grew to love it.

Watching all the other girls, I marvelled at their speed and accuracy, although most, if not all, of them typed with only the first two fingers of each hand. Eager to learn, even more eager to please, that September I enrolled at my local night school for typing lessons. Determined to prove that this could be something I was good at, at the end of the first year I had gained a distinction in both the RSA I and RSA II exams and was rewarded by a special mention from the local Mayor at prize giving!

I was soon enlightened as to what Law Stationers actually did. We typed documents for local solicitors – one of whom is still a household name – wills, house conveyances, legal briefs, even divorces, although there weren’t many of those in the 1950s. I can only assume that it was more cost effective for the solicitors to out-source this work than to employ their own typists. Two skills were essential in order to keep your job – speed and accuracy. Speed because we were always working to deadlines, accuracy because legal documents back then were a world away from the present day versions which can be spell-checked, copied and pasted, then spat out from computers and scanners in minutes.

We typed on parchment, blue for wills, sepia for house conveyances, and erasing or tipex-ing a mistake was not an option. Any alteration to the document and it was no longer legal. Each double sheet of a conveyance document was hand ruled in red ink and the first page began with an illuminated letter, drawn in coloured inks by a very elderly clerk. He sat on a tall stool, hunched over an ancient desk and looked exactly like a character from Dickens. Working inches away from the parchment, his eyes were always red and rheumy and he had a permanent dewdrop suspended from the end of his nose, no matter what the weather. To my knowledge this never actually dropped! You can imagine my trepidation at first being handed these pages on which I then had to type the final version of the solicitor’s draft. The parchment was thick; feeding it into the machine, getting it perfectly lined up with that first letter, and knowing you must not hit a wrong key throughout the whole document was a stomach-churning experience at first. Of course, the odd mistake was made, but very few; not just because of the telling off from the boss for wasting time and expensive stationery, but because we felt real guilt at increasing the workload – and eyestrain – of the clerk. Sadly, after all this time I can’t recall his name, yet I still remember what he looked like.

Once you had completed a job you would sit next to Mr James at his desk, reading out from the draft while he checked every word of the conveyance before hand-stitching the pages together with narrow red tape. There was a real sense of satisfaction in a job well done when it was finally delivered to the solicitor’s office.

At this point, I should say something about my physical surroundings at work. The office was situated in a very narrow, cobbled dog’s leg of an alleyway which ran between two main thoroughfares in the city – Castle Street and Dale Street. Although ‘ran’ is not the best description, this was a street that wasn’t going anywhere; unless you worked in one of its offices there would be no reason to enter. Most people bought a newspaper from the stand at its entrance and passed on by.

And the office itself? I can remember the noise created by a room full of typewriters, bells ringing with each carriage return; a voice reading aloud to Mr James, trying to make itself heard above the clatter. I remember general untidiness, dust and the lack of fresh air. A telephone which must have been a museum piece even then, was situated in an outer office on a wooden surround attached to the wall; you spoke into the mouthpiece and unhooked the trumpet-like earpiece to listen. A trip to the phone brought its own dangers. The bare wooden floors throughout the building were uneven and worn, with many loose boards, but in the outer office they were particularly bad. Light as I was, I still managed to put my foot through the floor on one occasion, no Accident Book then; no compensation for laddered stockings, which you could get repaired at the drycleaners for sixpence per ladder!

I stayed in that job for four years and enjoyed every moment of it, although the tedious bus journey and the 45 hour week were tiring. In fine weather, a group of us would take our packed lunches and sit in the gardens of St Nicholas’s Church, or on the grassy area at the Pier Head fronting the Liver Buildings. When it opened in 1957, The Cavern became a favourite lunchtime haunt, pre-Beatles of course! But by the end of 1958 I was engaged, saving up to get married, and found a job nearer home that paid better wage. I returned to the city a couple of years later to work in an insurance office in Water Street. One of the offices in the same building was, I believe, a Cotton Brokers, and we used to see Paul McCartney’s father arriving for work.

Fast forward 20 years. On a visit to Liverpool with two of my young sons, I decided to take ‘a trip down memory lane’.

‘While we’re here, I’ll show you where I worked in my very first job when I was just 15.’

We walked up Castle Street and turned left into the alleyway.

‘Down here, towards the end, on the right hand side.’

We got closer. My feeling of nostalgia turned to one of shocked surprise as I quickly shepherded two bewildered boys back to the main street.

‘Come on boys, let’s go. I must have made a mistake. I don’t think this is the street after all.’

My fondly remembered Dickensian office building had blacked-out windows and discreet posters advertised the fact that it was now A SEX SHOP!  

[I checked again recently, once more it looks like a respectable office building which I can now point out to my granddaughters on their next visit!]

Many thanks to Seven Streets for permission to reproduce their photo of Sweeting Street.

At last I feel ‘Christmassy’!

When Christmas cards appeared in my favourite card shop at the end of August my reaction was ‘Bah Humbug’! Close family members have birthdays in December and unless I buy their cards months early, choice becomes limited. 

When they started playing the same old tired Christmas songs in every shop at the beginning of November, I silently screamed ‘No! Please, not again!’ Shelves in food stores have been piled high for weeks with mince pies, Christmas cakes, chocolate goodies and all the usual temptations. Not a good idea to ‘stock up’ for Christmas so early – if I buy them now I’ll eat them now then have to buy more. Of course! That’s their cunning plan!

So why do I suddenly feel Christmassy? Because I spent the afternoon in Liverpool city centre, that’s why. First, it was coffee and cake followed by a glass of wine with friends at www.theitalianclubliverpool.co.uk  to celebrate the safe arrival of my third beautiful granddaughter. By the time we left, it was going dusk. Christmas lights twinkled. The Christmas market was buzzing, tempting my purse and my palate. And those two, huge reindeer in Liverpool 1 – an amazing sight. Not enough time to see everything so I’ll be back in a couple of days.  www.visitliverpool.com  Now I’m in the mood for Christmas. Tomorrow I’m off to the shops to buy mince pies, Christmas cake and anything else that takes my fancy – and yes, I’ll probably eat them long before December 25th. Then I’m going to start writing my cards and wrapping presents. ‘So here it is, Merry Christmas’ – bring it on!

Cirque du Soleil – Alegría

Translated from the Spanish, Alegría means ‘happiness, joy and jubilation’ and these were all in evidence at the Echo Arena on Sunday, 3rd November. The performance space, half its normal size, had been transformed into a dark, autumnal, fairytale setting and for two hours on a cold, blustery Sunday afternoon, the audience were transported into a magical world of colour, music and movement.

We were still settling in our seats, children dipping into bags of sweets, adults of all ages checking mobile phones (have we lost the knack of concentrating on the present moment?), and it took a moment or two to register that a clown had shambled into the arena. A word of warning to all potential audience members – if you don’t want to find yourself taking part in a performance, then don’t sit near the stage! The laughter that followed settled everyone down and we sat back to enjoy the show. I was relieved when the audience were given a stern warning not to use mobile devices or cameras during the show, even without flash, as these could prove dangerous to the performers, but this didn’t deter someone sitting a couple of rows in front of us from videoing part of the show on his phone. Fortunately, vigilant arena staff were on the spot in seconds, and the device was swiftly switched off!

The show consisted of 55 performers and musicians of twenty nationalities. The set was designed by Michel Crete, costumes by Dominique Lemieux with the soundtrack by Rene Dupré. But these are mere facts, what these people created for us was a stunning visual and aural spectacle that set the nerves tingling and the pulses throbbing.

I have to admit that I’ve never been fond of clowns, their slapstick comedy routines usually leave me cold, but this show certainly changed my opinion – I never knew you could have so much fun with paper planes! The routines involving unsuspecting members of the audience were so hilarious I did wonder if they were ‘plants’ – if they weren’t then congratulations are in order. And the ‘pantomime’ horse may be a cliché, but it still made me hoarse with laughter (pun intended!). I did find one of the characters appearing between acts rather grotesque; not being able to follow the intended theme of the show (should have bought a programme) I wasn’t sure what he represented. Dressed in black and red, short, with impossibly bent legs, a huge belly that wobbled and an enormous hump on his back, he was the stuff of nightmares – did he represent ‘chaos’? Every time I saw his painfully twisted body strut around the stage I worried that his act would leave him permanently injured.

We needed the clowns’ routines to give us some light relief between the breathtaking acts otherwise the excitement might have been too much for some of us older members of the audience! The mesmerising Fire Knife Dancers, twirling their batons of fire, should have come with a warning, ‘Children, do not attempt this at home’. Seeing them set a section of the stage alight was another reason I was glad not to be sitting at the front, even though I knew it was quite safe.

Acrobats performed incredible feats on The Russian Bars, somersaulting high in the air and landing on narrow planks supported on the shoulders of their catchers. While watching the performers you also have to appreciate the phenomenal body strength and perfect timing of these catchers. The audience were spellbound by The Mongolian Body Twisters; by performers on metal spinning rings; and especially by a contortionist – there were times when I couldn’t make out the individual parts of her body as she twisted it into shapes that seemed physically impossible. I found myself wondering how she gets out of bed in the morning. Feet first? Head first? Stomach first? Not slowly, with creaking joints like me, that’s for sure.

The female vocalist and the excellent musicians linked and accompanied all the acts perfectly. Sometimes, there was so much going on, so many people on stage, so much colour, noise and movement it was almost hypnotic.

It seemed all too soon before it was time for the Finale. And what a Finale it was! We watched, holding our collective breath, as the acrobats, two at a time, climbed swaying ladders until they stood on a platform 40 feet above the arena. What followed was an awe-inspiring spectacle of high-wire acrobatics. With two catchers suspended on swings below the platform there was an ever-changing movement of bodies flying through the air, swinging, catching, being caught, at death-defying, incredible speed. It was like watching a kaleidoscope, the pattern changing constantly. I marvelled at the complete trust members of the troupe must have in one another. And the fact that for the Finale a net had been suspended beneath the performers in no way detracted from their skill and bravery as they each jumped 40 feet into the net at the end of the act.

Performance over, it was a shock to emerge, blinking, into the bleak daylight of a late autumn day, our eyes still filled with colour and movement, our ears ringing with music, bodies still vibrating with the thrumming of drums. A truly wonderful show, spectacular in the true sense of the word; a show to recall and wonder at in the dull days of winter.

Thank you Alegría, and thank you Echo Arena, for a memorable afternoon. We’re now looking forward to André Rieu’s concert in December.

In conversation with Pam Weaver

Welcome to my website Pam, and congratulations on the success of your latest book, Pack Up Your Troubles.

What do you find particularly interesting about the period of history in which your books are set?
The era is a little before my time but I grew up on the war time stories my mother used to tell and I loved them. She repeated them time and time again and now I realise she was unwittingly teaching me about the art of story-telling as well. Her stories had pathos, pace, anticipation, humour and a good punch line. Those austerity years were difficult times. War scarred and weary, people were trying to pick up the threads of a normal life again whilst still facing privation and hardship and yet they came through triumphantly. I so admire people like that.

Your novels are set in and around an area which you are very familiar with, are any of the characters based on people from your own family background?
Oh yes, yes and yes! Some have come completely from my imagination (I’ve never met anyone like Reg Cox from There’s Always Tomorrow thank goodness) but most of the characters are composites of people I grew up with. Their names? That’s a closely guarded secret.

Do you have a favourite amongst your characters?
I suppose I’m a little fickle because I love the characters in my books as I write them and then move on quite quickly, but I have a lasting relationship with Mary Prior, Dottie’s friend who comes to the rescue in There’s Always Tomorrow, and I think I fell slightly in love with Eugène Étienne in Pack Up Your Troubles (but please don’t tell my husband).

All of your book covers are very attractive. Do you have any input into the design?
I have no input at all into the design or even the title of the books, so if you like them, it’s hats off to HarperCollins Avon.

Could you give readers a glimpse of what your writing day is like? Do you have a favourite place, or time of day, and do your books start their life with pen and paper or directly on a PC or laptop?
I use the small bedroom as my office. It’s a bit chaotic  as I work but as soon as I’m knee deep in papers I promise you I have a clear out. I write at any time, even getting up in the middle of the night if I have a good idea. I am ‘working’ all the time in my head and I use long hand and the computer to get it down. I have to print it off the computer to read as paper copy in order to spot mistakes and I’m a great believer in reading aloud so that I get a good rhythm in my work.

On your website, you mention your strong Christian beliefs, what part, if any, do these play in your writing life?
I hate unnecessary swearing in a book and so although my characters might use the occasional swear word, comparing my work to some other writers, it’s all very mild. It’s become a challenge for me to find a way of expressing frustration, anger or jealousy without resorting to the f-word.

Would you would like to tell readers something about the writing courses you run; how important do you think it is for aspiring writers to learn from more experienced, successful authors?
My writing courses have been on hold for a while since my fall in March when I shattered my right ankle. (moral of the story, don’t put the bins out, leave them for your hubby!) Having said that, a writing friend and I are planning a writers’ day in Worthing in March 2014. I spent perhaps five years making very obvious mistakes when sending out manuscripts and so I try to give the wanna-be writer some basics which will help them attract the eye of the editor/publisher. I LOVE encouraging writers and so my writers’ days are a lot of fun as well. Best of all I love it when I get letters and phone calls from ex-attendees who can’t wait to tell me they’ve now been published!

What is the first book you remember reading and what are you currently reading, or planning to read?
The first books I read for myself were Enid Blyton’s Famous Five. Later I devoured Jean Plaidy, Daphne Du Maurier and more recently, JoJo Moyes. At the moment I’m reading Lesley Pearse’s Till We Meet Again.

If you could have only one book with you on a desert island, which would it be?
The Little House by Philippa Gregory. The book which can teach you all you need to know about characterisation.

Which is the best book you have received as a gift?
That question has made me realise that people don’t generally give me books as a gift. I shall amend my Christmas list immediately!

Are you working on another novel at the moment?
I have just written The End on a book called For Better For Worse which will be published next year.

Thank you Pam, I’ve really enjoyed talking to you. One last thought – if we’d been able to have this chat over a coffee, where would your perfect venue have been?
I would have asked you if we could have swapped coffee for afternoon tea somewhere posh. How about South Lodge Country House Hotel near Horsham. Shall I book us a table?

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In conversation with Freda Lightfoot

Freda, I’d like to begin by asking what prompted you to become a writer – did you write as a child?
I used to scribble stories in a little red book, the stories generally bearing a strong resemblance to whatever I’d recently been reading: The Chalet School stories, the What Katy Did series, Malcolm Saville adventure books, and Secret Garden my all time favourite.

What is the first book you remember reading?
Little Grey Rabbit. Still have it somewhere. Must look for it.

I’m fascinated by your journey from Oswaldtwistle, to winters spent in a Spanish olive grove, via the Lake District! Is there anything you miss about England when you’re in Spain, and vice versa?
Ossy, as we called it, was a wonderful place to grow up. A friendly Lancashire town with a fabulous history. Home of James Hargreaves, inventor of the spinning jenny, and the Peel family of Robert Peel fame who started the police force. My parents had a shoe shop and I loved nothing more than chatting with people, somehow aware I’d write about all of that one day. David and I brought up our family in the Lakes, then rather bad arthritis drove me to become a snow bird and live in Spain in the winter. But we have a holiday home in the UK for the summer, so enjoy the best of both worlds.

Where do you do the majority of your writing – in Spain or England?
Anywhere and everywhere. Makes no difference to me, I’m an addict.

Do you think that at some point in the future one of your family sagas will be set in Spain?
I’m already planning one, but for now it still sits on that bookshelf in my head. I just need to live long enough to write them all.

Your family sagas and fictionalised biographies are set in very different eras – how do you plan your research, and how much time does it take up before you can sit down to the actual writing?
The fictionalised biographies take the most time as you can’t change the facts or someone’s character so every detail has to be investigated. It’s rather like being a detective searching out reasons and motivations. For the family sagas I love to interview old people who can tell me how things used to be. What treasured memories they have. Then I check all the facts to get the feel of period from my substantial library. With the sagas I try to do just enough to get started, then research what I need as I write. The story always comes first. 

You have said that your first mainstream saga – Luckpenny Land – was inspired by personal memories. What do you think your ancestors’ response to your novels would be?
I have used many family memories in my stories, including the one of my great aunt Hannah who pawned all her furniture during the depression to buy second hand carpets which she cut up and sold on the market in order to survive. I fictionalised this for Polly Pride, and I would think she’d love it, although her own husband was much more supportive than Polly’s. But then this is fiction and we need plenty of conflict.

The covers of your novels are very attractive – do any of them depict members of your family?
Yes, my mother is on the cover of Polly Pride, walking down the street with her aunt. And I am on the cover of Daisy’s Secret looking like a waif and stray.

Apart from the biographies, which comes first, the characters or the setting?
Always the characters. They drive the plot, determine the setting, everything.

Alongside a successful career with a mainstream publisher, you must be delighted with the success of your e-books – has this surprised you?
I’m totally amazed and thrilled. And so grateful to my many fans who have supported me for years. Where would I be without them? We chat on my Facebook page, which is great. I still love talking to people.

I found the article on self-publishing on your website very informative – and also realistic about the amount of work involved in creating a profile. You state the advisability of involving outside agencies for editing, proofing, cover art, promoting, etc; did you take this route from the outset or did you learn by ‘trial and error’?
I was fortunate in that all my books that I have published so far were previously  published with Hodder & Stoughton, so they are professionally edited. I did cut them a bit, and soften the Lancashire speech, but that’s all. Were I to put up a new book, then I would hire an editor. You really can’t spot all your own errors. I also do much of my own cover art, which I love doing, although if I don’t have time I do use a graphic artist. As for promotion I think building a relationship with your readers is the best way, and I do send out a regular newsletter.

And finally, Freda; is there a book by another writer you wish you’d written?
Oh, wow, what a question. There are so many writers and books I admire. But I would choose Rebecca, which is surely the best book ever written. Every time I read it I find something new in it. Daphne DuMaurier wrote beautiful prose and the most amazing stories in every genre.

Thank you for taking time out from your busy schedule to answer my questions, and every good wish for your continued success.
Thank you for having me. It’s been a pleasure. I’ve loved chatting with you.

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The Lady Lever Art Gallery, Port Sunlight

Port Sunlight – the very name takes me back to my childhood; Sunlight soap, red blocks of Lifebuoy (used for personal hygiene before deodorants became commonplace among the working class) and the oval-shaped, almost translucent blocks of Pears soap, a luxury to most. I can remember my mother scouring the kitchen with Vim – do we really need our cupboards full of different cleaning products that we now stock up with on our supermarket trips?

When my family was using Lever Brothers products in the 1940s and ‘50s, I’m sure no one gave much thought to the man whose original vision created the multinational company – William Lever, later Lord Leverhulme. Now of course there is a wealth of information, in books and on the internet, about Lord Leverhulme and Port Sunlight Village, www.portsunlightvillage.com is an excellent source and also gives information on forthcoming events in the village such as the Heritage Open Days. William Hesketh Lever believed that ‘Art can be to everyone an inspiration’, although in the beginning he collected paintings for business reasons. Between 1886 and 1906, he spent £2m on advertising, buying paintings to illustrate his brands. By far the most memorable of these was Millais’ ‘Bubbles’, used to advertise Pears soap in 1914 and still instantly recognisable. Not all artists appreciated this use of their paintings – William Frith Powell, for example, objected to ‘The New Frock’ being used in this way. But Lever had hit on a very successful marketing tool; soap wrappers could be collected and used as vouchers to exchange for prints of these paintings. I remember something similar when I was a young housewife in the early 1960s when packets of soap powder came with plastic daffodils or tulips. Not as tasteful as prints of beautiful paintings, but it didn’t stop lots of housewives putting them in vases on their window sills. I can’t remember now which brand of soap powder they were given away with, so perhaps their advertising wasn’t quite as clever as Lever’s!

By 1912, William Lever was worth £3m, plus his income, and by 1925 employed 85,000 workers around the globe. His use of art in advertising had given him a taste for collecting and he had begun to buy for his own pleasure. His collection grew to contain 20,000 works of art, including paintings, sculptures, furniture, ceramics, textiles and ethnographic objects, many of which are on display in the gallery. As the collection grew, and to fulfil his ambition of sharing it with the public, it moved from the library to Hulme Hall, and eventually into the purpose-built Lady Lever Art Gallery, begun in 1913 and opened in 1922. He was the only British tycoon of his time to build a gallery.

My latest visit to the Lady Lever Gallery was primarily to view the drawings of the pre-Raphaelite Master, Edward Burne-Jones. These are described as ‘Independent artworks in their own right…Drawing for drawing’s sake’. We were lucky enough to be in the Gallery early in the day before it got busy and so were able to give these drawings the time and close attention they deserve. I was particularly drawn to the ‘Study of a Woman’s Head, profile to left’, dated the 1890s, it has an almost 3D quality, every hair on the woman’s head detailed. Burne-Jones was said to “idealise ‘helpless’ beauty”, but in another room, exhibiting his Preparatory Drawings and Sketches, he also depicts women as “powerful and dangerous”, as in his ‘Study to a Mermaid’s Head’. This is an exhibition well worth a visit before it closes.

On my visits to the gallery I always enjoy time viewing my favourite paintings in Lever’s collection, many hanging in the Main Hall. William Holman Hunt’s ‘The Scapegoat’; John Everett Millais’ ‘Apple Blossoms (Spring)’, and ‘The Black Brunswicker’; Walter Dendy Sandler’s ‘The End of the Skein’ – this painting intrigues me because of the shadow of an open newspaper lying on the hearth, did the artist change his mind? I love Bacon’s ‘The Wedding Morning’ and Joseph Farquharson’s ‘The Shortening Winter’s Day is near a Close’ – this because a large print used to hang over the fireplace of a dear friend who died in 2001. Frederic Leighton’s ‘Head of Spanish Girl’ reminds me of my Spanish heritage – I like to think that perhaps one of my forebears looked just like her. My husband’s favourites are Robert Van Herromer’s ‘The Last Muster’ and Briton Rivier's ‘Fidelity’.

All of these paintings tell a story, and I’ve used postcards of them in my U3A creative writing group as prompts for short stories – with excellent, imaginative result from the members. The frames of the paintings are also worth a mention, some of them being works of art in their own right.

Lord Leverhulme also collected 20th century paintings, some of which are displayed in the East Gallery. Unfortunately, at the time of my visit there had been a problem with a water leak and some paintings had been removed, but Dame Laura Knight’s ‘Ballet’ is still hanging.

All the gallery’s paintings can be viewed on www.bbc.co.uk/yourpaintings, but as well as housing a world-famous collection of Pre-Raphaelite paintings, the gallery also has five period rooms containing Neo-Classical sculptures, English furniture, tapestries, Chinese Art, etc – far too many interesting exhibits to do justice to them here, it’s necessary to pay many visits to appreciate the richness and diversity of the collection. I will mention one of my favourites – the statue of Kuan-Yin, Goddess of Mercy, from the Ming Dynasty. It is inscribed, ‘made by ten of the worshippers of the Temple, for the donor’. Unfortunately I don’t know which Temple, or who the donor was! I like Stella Benson’s description of Kuan-Yin, it begins, ‘Her hands are empty of weapons…’ and ends
‘She is still,
She is very still, 
She listens always.’

Ending the visit with our usual appreciation of the coffee shop in the basement, I was also amused to find that the doors to the Ladies toilets in the basement still have the brass machines that took payment of one penny. With its warning, ‘No bent or damaged coins’, it took me back to the days when ‘spending a penny’ was meant quite literally. Now it costs 30p to spend a penny in many public toilets – no wonder my grandchildren get confused!

From Lighthouses to Cemeteries!

Today, I’m speaking to John and Diane Robinson.

John and Diane, your book, Lighthousesof Liverpool Bay, is beautifully produced and for someone like myself, with no previous knowledge of lighthouses, or the lives of lighthouse keepers, it makes for very interesting reading. It portrays a lonely, arduous and often dangerous way of life that now belongs to maritime history but which would have been of tremendous importance to people like my grandfather, a seaman with the Liverpool-based Larrinaga Shipping Line.

Can you tell me something about how the book came to be written – did the idea come from a personal interest, or were you approached by the publisher, Tempus Publishing Limited?

It all started with family history research when it looked as if Diane’s ancestor, an overseer of the embankment, lived at Leasowe lighthouse. So one day we called in at the lighthouse and Eric, the chairman, persuaded us to join the Friends of Leasowe Lighthouse. John did some research, at Merseyside Maritime Museum archive, on the keepers of the light and wrote a little booklet. After that we were hooked. We gave tours of the lighthouse, helped set up an archive and eventually we went on to research the wider aspects of what we now realised were Liverpool lighthouses.

How did you set about your research? How much were you able to discover from local archives?

Having already discovered that the Maritime Museum held the papers of the Dock Trust, which preceded the Mersey Docks and Harbour Board, we began researching the minutes of the Dock Committee in particular, finding all references to the building and maintenance of the port’s lighthouses and the hiring and firing of keepers, etc. We also found much valuable material at Liverpool Record Office and various record offices and libraries in Wales and on Merseyside.

Did you actually visit the site of each former lighthouse?

Yes. In fact we stayed in a keeper’s cottage at Point Lynas lighthouse. We were in the West Cottage and the sunsets were wonderful. Each evening we’d watch the dolphins playing off the point. The walks are marvellous, too. Even today it’s very isolated, but for the keepers it must have been a really remote place. Lynas was one of the earliest of Liverpool’s lighthouses and it was, since the 1780s, a pilot station where pilots boarded ships to take them into the port. However, the present lighthouse, as is the case with many of Liverpool’s lighthouses, is not the original building. Although the buildings at Lynas are privately owned now, the automated light is still in operation. We enjoyed standing under the light as it flashed into the darkness. Fortunately, the fog horn never sounded while we were there.

I was intrigued to read that Ormeshead lighthouse was eventually converted into a bed and breakfast establishment – were you able to stay there? If so, knowing its past history, how did the experience affect you?

We’ve stayed there twice, in two different rooms. The Lamp room is now a sitting room. It’s 325 feet above the sea and is particularly atmospheric on a stormy winter’s night. As we sat, cosy and warm while rain beat on the window, we felt for the poor keepers holding on tight as they cleared the snow from the outside of those great windows!

Lighthouses of Liverpool Bay, is full of human interest stories, were there any humorous moments during your travels, or poignant ones?

For Diane in particular, New Brighton lighthouse was terrifying to get into because it was Liverpool’s only rock lighthouse. So, twice a day it’s surrounded by the sea. All of Liverpool’s other lighthouses are land-based. When the tide’s out, it stands in a waist-deep moat which you have to wade through to get to a wooden ladder. This has to be lashed to the base of the fixed iron rungs that lead to the doorway, thirty feet above the water. At the top of the iron ladder you must haul yourself onto a narrow platform in front of the great iron door. Once inside, you get a real insight into the cramped conditions in which the keepers worked and lived.

It may seem a big leap from lighthouses to cemeteries, but there is a link between your two interests. You both belong to ‘The Friends of Rake Lane Cemetery, Wallasey’, and I see from your website www.wallaseycemetery.co.uk that a past keeper of New Brighton lighthouse, John Thompson Francis, is buried in this cemetery. The cemetery also has other strong seafaring links, with many monuments connected with major maritime disasters of the early twentieth century. I believe The Friends lead regular, themed walks exploring these; perhaps you could tell me more about this aspect of your involvement? Who decides on the format?

The format for walks has evolved into ‘Sea Disasters’ (Titanic, Empress of Ireland and Lusitania, all three have lots of local connections), ‘Local and Maritime History’ (includes The Wallasey Hermit, the pilot boat tragedies and the training ship Indefatigable). The two World Wars are also available, depending on the interests of those on the walk. Usually we end at the cemetery chapel, which has been rescued by Father Paul and his congregation and converted into a beautiful Russian Orthodox Church.

Do you have a group of volunteers who lead the walks – and how many people usually take part?

It’s usually just Diane and John and our chairman, Mark Joynson. Numbers vary. It could be just two people or a group of up to twenty.

Are these walks advertised and is it necessary to book a place in advance?

They are currently advertised in the Wirral Heritage Open Days booklet and on the internet and are available on request.

I believe that you have also undertaken research in connection with the cemetery on behalf of others; from how far afield have these requests come?

We’ve had requests and donations from all over the world, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Canada, the USA. Often they have also given us extra information about the cemetery’s history and the people buried there.

I note from your website that you also hold monthly meetings, are these open to the general public?

Yes, we’re happy to see anyone with an interest in the upkeep of the cemetery.

Finally, which came first – Lighthouses of Liverpool Bay, or your interest in Rake Lake Cemetery?

The lighthouses came first, about fifteen years ago. The Friends of Rake Lane Cemetery started about five years ago.

Thank you, John and Diane, for taking the time to answer my questions. I hope your answers will encourage many more Merseyside people to take an interest in our historic maritime past.

Lighthouses of Liverpool by John and Diane Robinson