My parents moved
to Kirkby in 1955, my dad's brothers had already made the move
from the Kirkdale/Bootle areas of Liverpool to Northwood
and after visiting them my parents decided it was the place
for them to bring up a family.
We settled in Westhead Close in Northwood, my dad worked at Fisher &
Ludlow and my mam worked at the Birdseye.
One very amusing incident I remember from my mam's time at the
factory was when, on her way home from work one evening,
she slipped just outside the factory gates and even though
she was in a lot of pain she wouldn't let anyone move her
because she had on a pair of bright red long knickers
as it was so cold and her skirt had hitched up when
she slipped, she was mortified at the thought of any
of the men who were helping her seeing them!!
She was in a lot of pain and it transpired she'd broken her ankle and
had to have a screw put in place of some damaged bone.
Thursday evenings I would wait on the corner of our close looking up the
lane, waiting for my dad to come home from work because Thursday was
payday and he would always bring us sweets and give us the money for
some chips and me and my brother would go to the chippie in the town
centre, great fish and chips they were too.
My mam later worked in the Molyneux outdoor and I would sometimes wait for her on
the wall and one particular time I remember seeing Mr Conteh being backed
against the pub wall by a number of men who didn't like him and they were
calling him names I'd never heard before, all to do with the colour of his
skin. I couldn't understand this, Michael Conteh was my friend, we played
skipping together and a game called "Beat the Clock" and I'd never thought
about the colour of his skin. My brother Robert was good friends with
one of the Conteh lads and on more than one occasion was brought home
by Mr Conteh after he'd played in their back garden and a brick had
been thrown over their wall and landed on Robert's head. Mr Conteh
would say to my mam that he was sorry and that no doubt the brick
had been intended for one of his kids. This was my first introduction
to racism, unfortunately, it wasn't the last!.
I have experienced many forms of prejudice over the years and not just because of
the colour of someone's skin. I now live in Wigan and a few years ago when my
son was 5 years old he came running in the house begging me to tell
him that I wasn't a scouser!. I told him I was and that I am
very proud to be, he had no idea what a scouser was but some
local children had ACCUSED him of having a scouse mother and
left my son in no doubt at all that to have one was to be ashamed
of her. I explained what a scouser was and I am now the very
proud mother of a 14 year old who has a social conscience and
an understanding of the world that many of these same children
today just would not understand. He will tell anyone who cares
to listen that he is proud to have a scouser as his mother.
I realise I digressed just a little bit and I do have a tendency to do
that. I do get very angry at the injustice in the world and am
known by and now expected by my family to get on my soapbox and
have a rant about it sometimes.
The Kirkby I grew up in was, I remember, very clean and I don't know if it was particularly
safe at that time because I had 2 big brothers looking out for me and a
very protective young boyfriend but I don't remember a lot of bad incidences.
One I do remember is when myself and 2 young friends went up to Spinney
Woods, we would spend the entire summer holidays playing there but on this occasion
we had gone to pick blackberries and a teenage lad was riding his bike towards the
woods, he rode past us and later we saw him behind some bushes whereupon he jumped
out at us minus his trousers and began shaking his bits at us, my friends ran away,
I, on the other hand was quite insulted and began shouting at him and telling him
just what I thought of him and his wiggly bits and that I was not in the least bit
impressed as I had my 2 older brothers to compare him with and he had nothing to
write home about!. Crestfallen, he pulled his kecks up and rode away on his bike.
I was quite proud of myself and must have stood there a good few minutes, hands
on hips, telling myself I'd shown him!!, I was 9 years old. I swore my friends
to secrecy about it because I didn't want my mam to find out as I was sure she
wouldn't let me go to the woods again. My friends caved, the police were called
and we had to make statements. The policewoman was very sensitive but was getting
cross at me because I was too embarrassed to say willy and kept saying he'd
shook his bits at us, apparently I had to be more specific for the statement.
I was made to feel very stupid and had to say such for giving this lad a piece
of my mind and not running away with my friends, I said it but I never believed
it and have since always stood up for myself and anyone else I thought was
getting a bad deal.
I was not allowed to go to Spinney Woods again unless one of my brothers came with me.
I have many happy memories of Kirkby and one of these is when the whole
of our street would go potato picking. We'd take butties and a flask.
We'd wrap up warm and set off really early in the morning. I have never
tasted a cup of tea so good as the tea we had on the farm nor, I have to
say, enjoyed a bath so much as when you got home after picking spuds all
day, your back hurting, your feet sore and your hands and nails filthy
but proud because you had a pocketful of tally's to exchange for shillings
at the end of it, when you sank into that bath after a hard day it made it
all worthwhile and you still got dressed quick to go out and play with your
mates and spend some of your wages at the van.
I love your site and I still haven't read it all, as I said, you have to grab the
pc in our house when you can but I will get to see it all and will look forward
to seeing what information and stories you get from the older residents of Kirkby.
Best wishes,
Tracey Jones, (Nee Scully).
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