I had a day off (of sorts) yesterday. Well, from blogging anyway. The pair of us were up early as the both of us had work to do in Huddersfield. Dee was at the Community Rail Network office whilst I had a fascinating couple of hours with a charity (Platform 1) who’re also based at the railway station. I won’t go into too much detail now as my article will be appearing in a future edition of RAIL magazine – but it won’t be about trains. Charities like Platform 1 have really stepped up to the plate to provide services to some of the most vulnerable in society during the pandemic. Their work’s invaluable at the best of times, but these are the worst of times.
Back at home in the warm (remember, I’m not used to spending January/February in the UK) I spent the afternoon writing up my notes and continuing to scan old slides – a process I’ve continued today as I’m back in the bosom of the Calder Valley with nowhere else to go! Well, in the real world anyway. Picture-wise I’ve been to Merseyside, Denmark, Essex, Sussex, back in London – then Greece – in my own personal time-machine which has transported me back to the year 2000.
This has given me a huge range of images to choose from for the picture of the day, which has been a difficult choice. In the end, I plumped for this. Of all the places, I’ve gone back to the town I grew up in, but that’s because the picture’s worthwhile. I took this shot on the 15th April 2000 whilst visiting my family. This is the old Southport pier being demolished.
But, fear not. It was being demolished in order to be rebuilt. The original 1860 iron structure was rotten after 140 years of being exposed to the elements – and the sea. Yes, I know the old jokes about the sea never coming in at Southport, but it does – honest! Once upon a time you could catch steamships from the end of the 1000m long structure (the 2nd longest pier in the UK) to resorts on the North Wales coast. Nowadays it’s a lot quieter, but it still provides some wonderful views along the coast. If you want to see some more pictures of the pier during and after rebuilding, you can find them here.
I’ve a favour to ask… If you enjoy reading this blog, please click on an advert or two. You don’t have to buy anything you don’t want to of course (although if you did find something that tickled your fancy that would be fab!), but the revenue from them helps to cover some of the cost of maintaining this site – and right now (because of Covid), us freelances need all the help that we can get. Remember, 99% of the pictures used in my blogs can be purchased as prints from my other website – https://paulbigland.zenfolio.com/
Well, it’s a bloody long time since I did a rolling blog, but today’s the day…
I’m currently sat in the 07:00 from Sowerby Bridge to Wigan Wallgate which is making its way through Salford. The train’s never been more than 25% full – even between Rochdale and Manchester, which used to be rammed. Manchester Victoria station was eerily quiet too. Here’s my 3-car Class 158 when I boarded.
On the plus side, it’s a beautiful sunny day, although the fact I’m on my way to a funeral does take some of the shine off it.
Most of my fellow passengers have been conscientious mask wearers – although the couple who weren’t may well be exempt. The train’s clean and well presented, so it feels safe.
It feels slightly odd to be heading back to Southport. Even though I grew up there and have family still residing it’s a town I feel little connection with nowadays. I suppose it’s a combination of factors. English seaside towns haven’t fared well in the past 50 years with the advent of cheap holidays abroad. Add in the rise of out of town shopping and poor planning decisions and it’s not hard to see why.
08:31.
A bright spot is that I’ve just passed through the wonderful Hindley station. It’s one of the jewels in the crown of the community rail movement. The group who look after it have transformed it from semi-dereliction into a garden oasis.
08:52.
I had to change trains at Wigan Wallgate where I’ve swapped my nice comfy 158 for my least favourite train – a Northern 150 with 3 + 2 seating and bugger all legroom! There’s a mix of people aboard including a young mother with a baby, a retired chap with a walking stick and camera, a couple of workman plus two teenage girls and their younger brother. It’s obvious leisure travellers are returning to the railways, but not in the numbers they once did. Yet…
12.51.
Well, that was a trip down memory lane, and (considering it was a funeral) not a sad event at all. On arrival I walked to my sister’s house as Anne wanted to come to the funeral too. She remembered Mike from when he lodged at my mothers house for several years back in the 1980s. The addition of Anne meant there were 13 at the Crematorium. The service was conducted by the chaplain of the Hospital Mike died in. He did an excellent job. He kept God out of it and the short ceremony was all about Mike himself. He read out part of my blog, which Pat had passed on to him. Another more recent friend of Mike’s who shared the same love of books read from Some of Mike’s favorites, such as Terry Prachett’s ‘Mort’, Oscar Wilde and also Shakespeare. Mike’s love of books was such that Broadhursts (Southport’s oldest and finest bookshop) had sent a representative. Apparently, his bungalow was literally crammed with books, some of which were rare and valuable. Martin taught me things about Mike’s later life I didn’t know. How Mike would teach his kids about literature and send them wacky Xmas presents. From the Chaplain I learned that Mike had actually arranged to have his body left to science and had even completed the papers with a major medical school, but Covid brought an end to that plan as the school wasn’t accepting bodies – so the funeral we were attending wasn’t the plan at all!
After the ceremony half a dozen of us adjourned to Pat and Jake’s house. As the weather was so good we could sit and social distance in the garden whilst reminiscing about Mike and the old days and play games of “whatever happened to?” Sadly, there were two murders amongst the stories. On the bright side – I seem to be faring better than some of my contemporaries…
When we left I bid goodbye to my sister and walked into the town centre through streets that left me playing Detective as I spotted the odd cluster of new homes and tried to remember the name of the pub that stood there before. Wasn’t that the site of the old London and its bowling green that backed onto the railway? Yep. Oh, and that’s where the Shakespeare stood – another vast multi-roomed building that had no chance of commercial success in this era.
Strolling through town I took a look at the Old Ship and paid my respects before moving on and walking on to Lord St, which still has plenty of life, even if the big department stores are all closed and boarded up. Ironically, the broad pavement and canopies have come into their own during Covid as there’s plenty of outside seating to be had at the bars and cafes, so even if the weather’s not as good as today you can sit outside in safety.
Sunk. The Old Ship…
15:10.
Having had a wander around the town centre I’m struck by how busy the place is. In the era of Covid and ‘staycations’ it seems people are rediscovering seaside towns like Southport. The trains from Liverpool are certainly busy. Of course that adds another hazard, as well as mobility scooters you’re now having to dodge a plethora of prams and the associated flotilla of kids, like destroyers protecting an aircraft carrier.
15:54.
Funny the things a wander reminds you of isn’t it? I’ve just passed through the Cambridge Arcade (Arcades were very popular in Southport) and spotted a shop that’s now a barbers. I remember it as something very different. In 1976 I’d just left school and I landed a job as an apprentice locksmith in a town centre shop owned by a father and son company. They were real duckers and divers who made the fictional Trotters look like amateurs. They also owned a lingerie shop (what’s now the barbers). One day the son came into our hardware shop and said he needed a man to stand in the shop for an hour or so whilst his wife cashed up and did some stock-taking – and I was that man! In reality I was a shy 16yr old and standing around in a lingerie shop with nowhere to hide was excruciating! I can laugh now but the memory has stayed with me, which gives you an indication of how powerful the feeling must have been at the time. One day I’ll relate how they invented these handwriting analysis kiosks and we built one on a Blackpool pier..
16:50.
I’m now on the train Eastwards, heading home. It’s a Class 156/150 lash-up with the 156 leading, so there’s no guessing where I am and wo-hoo – it’s set 460, so it has USB chargers! I was surprised how many people were awaiting its arrival but the overwhelming majority are being good and the front car’s certainly not crowded.
18:33.
I abandoned the lash-up at Salford Central, where I was left with 40 mins to kick my heels. I’d forgotten the building was one of the BR modular designs of the type a few of us had been discussing on Twitter a couple of weeks ago. I should’ve – Network Rail had me there as their official photographer!
I’m now on another 158 back to Sowerby Bridge. There’s definitely a build up of passengers and Manchester Victoria is starting to look busy again, but numbers aren’t going to return overnight.
21:16.
The last entry. It’s been a really interesting day and far more positive than I first thought it might be. The fact Mikes funeral was all about Mike and (despite the small numbers) it was obvious he’ll be remembered was reassuring – and the stories were fond. Who can ask for more?
One other thought from today is – this is the most people I’ve seen since lockdown started. No, not the funeral – Southport! I actually felt uncomfortable at times because of the crowds. Me, who lived in London for 25 years and used public transport most days! How things change…
I’ve a favour to ask… If you enjoy reading this blog, please click on an advert or two. You don’t have to buy anything you don’t want to of course (although if you did find something that tickled your fancy would be fab!), but the revenue from them helps to cover some of the cost of maintaining this site – and right now (because of Covid), us locked-down freelances need all the help that we can get…
Yesterday I got a phone call out of the blue from Pat, a longtime friend from my days growing up in Southport. Pat rang me to tell me that the funeral of an old friend from those days who’d died back in May was being held tomorrow (Thursday). I’d not seen Mike Smith for a very, very long time. Our friendship waned when I moved to London back in 1986. I only saw him a couple of times after that on the odd occasion when I popped back to see my family. Mike was best described as an eccentric who became increasingly eccentric as the years went by!
I first met him in Liverpool back in 1979 when I was involved in some political campaigning. I was put in touch with some like-minded souls in the city and Mike was one of them. At the time Mike lived in West Derby but would often come over to Southport along with another old Scouse friend, Glen Bowker (who was one of a trio of us who moved to London where we shared a flat for many years). Eventually both Mike and Glen moved to Southport, which became his home for the rest of his life.
I rarely think of those days now – it all seems so long ago and so far away – over 40 years. But Pat’s call made me think – and remember. What I remember is the laughter, something that seems in rather short supply nowadays. Back then we were all young, and care-free, with our futures ahead of us. Our social life revolved around a pub called the Old Ship Inn where you’d find many of us most evenings. It was a large community of like-minded souls and boy – did we have fun! Mike’s humour was plentiful and dry so the jokes and banter would fly. It was the sort of laughter that left your stomach aching – remember that?
How times have changed. Many of those people are no longer with us, including Mike, who died of prostate cancer at the age of 64. My eldest sister Ruth is another one, cancer took her when she was in her 40s. I can think of a long list of other names who’ve gone too, many of them at no great age – and no doubt there’s many I don’t know about as I’ve lost touch with people. Even the pub has gone now. It was badly refurbished back in the early 1980s and it lost a lot of its character and custom. Last time I went back the place was closed and boarded up, but then closed pubs are hardly novel nowadays.
I remember one time the pub had a fancy dress competition. I can’t remember what the theme was now, but Mike came dressed as another of Southport’s eccentrics – the ‘purple lady’ (so named for the colour of the voluminous shirts and shawls that she used to wear in her wanderings around town) – he even had the carrier bag! Needless to say, he won.
Pat’s phone call made me look for some old photos of Mike. These are what I found – all taken on a mickey-mouse little Instamatic on grainy 110 film, but it’s all I have….
Mike Smith in 1981, holding a bong containing, illicit smoking material.. Mike was always smartly dressed and normally sported a tie or bow-tie. His diminutive frame meant he could often pick up bargains from the kids section in charity shops!Mike in the same year, when he’d just moved to Southport where he’d got a bedsit in a house on Scarisbrick New Rd. He’s riding my mums bike and carrying a bamboo plant we’d dug up out of my parents garden. The house became something of a social centre as my sister Ruth also moved into a flat there. I remember one Christmas the house got together for a jojnt Xmas dinner with people cooking different part of it in their baby Bellings, then coming together in Mikes room. We didn’t have a dining table so we used an old advertising hoarding ‘borrowed’ from somewhere, and a couple of trestles!
Some of the crowd from the Old Ship seen on the 17th May 1982 when we’d been to the wedding of Sparks and Vicky. It’s an awful photo, but Mike is at the front, sporting a bow-tie and blazer. 2nd to his left is my late sister, Ruth. I’m second from the end on the right.
So, tomorrow I’ll be journeying to Southport to attend Mike’s funeral at Southport crematorium at 10:00. Mike was always a bit of a hypochondriac but in his later years his imaginary illnesses became real and he became increasingly frail. I spotted him from afar once, walking around town using a Zimmer – hardly an unusual sight in Southport which always had a reputation as one of God’s waiting rooms! His infirmities, and the fact people don’t bother going to pubs as much nowadays meant he became more isolated so his funeral won’t be a big affair. Pat (who Mike effectively made his next of kin) reckons there’ll be a dozen of us at most. There’ll probably be more people I know whose ashes are scattered around the ‘crem than there in person – but I wanted to be there, just to say goodbye – both to Mike and to those long gone days in Southport…
I’ve a small favour to ask… If you enjoy reading this or any of the other blogs I’ve written, please click on an advert or two. You don’t have to buy anything you don’t want to of course – although if you did find something that tickled your fancy that would be fab! – but the revenue from them helps me to cover some of the cost of maintaining this site (which isn’t cheap and comes out of my own pocket). Remember, 99% of the pictures used in my blogs can be purchased as prints from my other website – https://paulbigland.zenfolio.com/
The end of another working week, although that doesn’t really mean much nowadays, especially in my line of work. It’s a very long time since my week was Monday – Friday, 9 to 5. September 1997 to be precise…
The weather here in the Calder Valley has turned stormy. The temperature has really dropped but the wind has gained in strength, gusting across the valley, leaving me in fear for my garden where the Lupins are looking lovely but exposed. It’s quite entertaining in one way – watching the wind battering the trees and bushes I can see from my back office. The Blue and Coal tits are still managing to land on the bird feeder outside the window, but some of the bigger birds are starting to struggle as the gusts catch them.
Today’s not been the best of days. Emotions and feelings can be a bit of a roller-coaster during lockdown (or what approximates it now) and that’s how I felt today. Sometimes it’s hard to remain optimistic in the face of everything that’s happening and the feeling that – politically – we are going through extraordinary times. America is in flames due to riots over the latest death of a black American at the hands of the police and the ‘President’ is both utterly useless – and fanning the flames. Meanwhile, we have our own Clown in charge. How on earth did it come to this? Still, Johnson’s ‘proud’ of the fact we’ve the highest Covid-19 death toll in Europe so who are we to question his judgement (when he actually turns up for work).
I suppose I’m feeling a little put out as today a group of us should have been flying to Berlin. After we had such a great time in Belgium the ‘6 from the 6’ had booked a few days in the German capital. It’s a city I really enjoy (especially the old East) so I was really looking forward to it. In fact, I would have been back again a few months later for the bi-annual ‘Innotrans’ rail fair but that’s been postponed until 2021. As things stand at the moment I’m not sure I’m going to make it out of the ‘septic isle’ before the end of the year – or whilst we still remain part of the EU. Oh, yes – remember Brexit? That’s still unresolved…
So, instead of enjoying Berlin with friends, I’m kicking my heels at home, staying safe and wading through more old slide scans. Ho hum…On the bright side. I’m nearing the end of phase 1 of that project, which feels like it’s taken forever. This weekend I’ll have the 1999-2000 rail album done, which only leaves me with (I think) two to do. Away from all this we did have a pleasant interlude as Friday night is quiz night when a group of us from the ‘Big 6’ have an hour together pretending we’re back in the pub! With the weather being rather less than favourable everyone was Zooming in from indoors this week. Even so, it was a lovely interlude that stretched the little grey cells (as an Agatha Christie character was wont to say) and gave us all a bit of welcome social interaction.
OK, forget all the other stuff, it’s picture time. Here’s one of the latest scans and another trip down memory lane – although it won’t mean a lot to many people. This is the old steam locomotive depot at Southport shortly before demolition back in 2000 after the museum had closed. Back in the very early 1970s I was one of the founder members of ‘Steamport’, the society which got together to save the 6-road depot and turn it into a museum. Many of us put a lot of time and effort into trying to make it a success but it never took off. On the bright side, we did buy the land which was sold years later for a tidy sum when the museum moved lock, stock and barrel to Preston, so our efforts weren’t all in vain. Here’s a potted history of the depot and the project care of Wikipedia.
See those red doors on the front of the shed? They’re not original. The old shed never had doors. The ones you see came from the old Meols Cop car sheds – a railway works a few miles away. A few of us towed some of those through the streets of Southport on old metal wheeled railway parcels trollies after we’d gas-axed them off the derelict shed! Funny what you remember, isn’t it? I vividly recollect pulling/pushing one of those doors on the trolley with a few other stalwarts, partly because I remember coming down with a really sore throat!
Memories…
I’ve a favour to ask… If you enjoy reading this blog, please click on an advert or two. You don’t have to buy anything you don’t want to of course (although if you did find something that tickled your fancy would be fab!), but the revenue from them helps to cover some of the cost of maintaining this site – and right now (because of Covid), us locked-down freelances need all the help that we can get… Thank you!
Paul Bigland 