Liverpool Stories
The stories on this site are not included in my book.
The tales are snapshots of my life in Liverpool, the home of the Beatles, and the echo chamber of the Mersey Sound that in the sixties resonated around the planet like an acoustic Tsunami. The stories cover a period of 50 odd years and so they touch on every aspect of my life from the rites of passage to the passing of youth. I hope you enjoy them.
Oh Mandy!
by
John Williams
I've noticed lately that my spam mail has taken a new twist. Almost every day I get an invitation to meet a gorgeous woman via some dating agency or other. Apparently I have a 'friend' who enrolled me. I don't know why they bother as the sites are based in America so most of the 'gorgeous gals' live in the U.S. and unless they look like Claudia Schiffer, have a penchant for Moonlight blondes and enough cash to pay for my flight then any response on my part would be a pointless exercise.
I have made a detailed study of the types of men and women who advertise their availability on the net. Some of them are so predictable that they qualify as stereotypes. For instance, there is the one that carries the heading,
Are you out there?
After seeing the accompanying picture, that almost always seems to bear an amazing likeness to Janet Poole, the mad woman in Jane Eyre, or Jack Nicholson in The shining, the answer one has to give is,
"Yes...and believe me I am staying out here!"
Then there is
Looking for love
and again the accompanying image makes one think that 'Love' must be the surname of the lunatic, posing as a plastic surgeon, who had operated on the poor wretch in the photo and upon whom the victim is seeking revenge.
It goes without saying that all of these adverts stipulate the essential requirement of GSOH , a good sense of humour. Gosh! Who'd ever have guessed! In a lot of cases the good sense of humour would have had to have been generated by a mixture of LSD, Nitrious Oxide and Ecstasy!
I suppose though that most of us have been on a blind date at some time or other. I know I have. Of course that was in the days before digital dating and so one usually had to rely on the recommendations of the friend who had arranged the assignation.
In the sixties I had one such friend. He was an Irishman called Cornelius and he must have had a season ticket to Blarney castle because he could have charmed the pants off a whole convent of nuns.
One day he told me that he had fixed me up with a cracking young woman, who was a friend of his current girlfriend. Now since his girlfriend was an absolute beauty I had no qualms whatsoever about agreeing to meet him that night in the Legs of Man public house.
I remember waiting outside the pub and scanning the crowds who were heading for the nearby Empire theatre before catching sight of Cornelius and his girlfriend Julie, and wondering about the identity the other two people behind him. I soon found out that the 'two' people was in fact one person. My date!
She was dressed in what looked like a patchwork tent and so when I saw one of her shoulders, clad in blue, behind Cornelius, and her other pink clad shoulder behind Julie, I assumed that there must have been at least two people walking behind the couple.
My first impulse was to flee, but it was too late as the grinning Irishman had already spotted me and was gleefully pointing me out to the low flying Zeppelin that was by then casting out mooring ropes disguised as pink arms so large that I half expected to see tattooed on them the word 'Danish'.
I don't know why it is that some beautiful women feel so insecure that they adopt girl friends who somehow underline their own loveliness simply because of the sheer contrast between them, but evidently Corny's girl friend was one who operated on this principle.
If I sound cruel you have to realise that in those days I was so painfully thin that seven stone weaklings used to kick sand in my eyes!
As we poured into the pub I glared at Cornelius who was openly sniggering at my dismay. The ladies sat down and I went to the bar, tugging Corny's coat as I did so. While the barmaid tended to our order, two pints of bitter, a Cherry B for Julie and a Pink lady for the the pink lady I hissed,
"You bastard!"
Still smiling broadly Cornelius put his hand on my shoulder and said,
"Sure it's all a matter of the eye and the beholder an' all that and you have to admit she is pretty"
I almost sobbed, "I know she's pretty but she's bloody huge!"
"Perhaps," purred the maddeningly calm Irishman, "But while she is large she does have a figure now doesn't she? I mean, she's not just a great tub of lard. She has what you'd be after calling waist definition"
I could only gasp,"Waist definition? That's like saying an elephant's got a collar size!"
Just then I felt the lady in question barrel past me and stalk off out of the door. I turned to see Julie looking at me contemptuously. I was astounded because although Cornelius and myself had been rather animated we had been quiet and I couldn't understand what had upset Julie's friend.
I soon found out when Julie, glaring at her beau, rasped,
"You told us that you were introducing Mandy to a rugby player, not this bloody skinnymalink!"
Cornelius, pausing only to blow gently at the froth on his beer replied,
"Ah now Julie, I only said he was a big rugby man...."
By then he was talking to Julie's departing back.
I was still smarting over her reference to my slight physique. Skinnymalink! Slender would have done!
I forget where we ended up that night but try as he might Cornelius couldn't get me to see the funny side of his prank. He emigrated to America shortly afterward and I heard a rumour that he had joined the Peace Corps.
So if there are any students of history out there looking for probable causes of the flashpoints of Vietnam, the middle east or Kossovo please remember to toss into the equation a charming Irishman with a bizarre sense of humour.