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.
Where do the children play - The writing is on the board
By
John Williams
I remember when I was a kid being told to wash my mouth out because I had uttered the word 'bloody'. No big deal you might think, but my gran, a firm believer in the adage that actions speak louder than words, handed me a bar of her precious perfumed toilet soap and stood watch until I had filled my mouth with the bitter bubbles of penance. I learned two lessons that day. Firstly, a tiny nibble of good quality soap will create a sink full of foam and, secondly, that I would never again swear in the presence of an adult. How times have changed! What folllows is a little drama that took place at a school where a friend of mine worked.
A young female teacher, anxious to encourage a seven year old boy to improve his almost non existent reading skills, invented a prize with the idea of awarding it to him on the dubious premise that he had, that week, made the biggest strides in reading.
Her face beaming with joy she offered him a copy of Paddington Bear that she had paid for herself and glowed with anticipation of the little chap's delight. Imagine her surprise when, afterstaring disdainfully at the proffered prize, the boy snapped,
"I don't fukkin want it!"
Reeling with shock the teacher gasped,
"What did you say!"
Completely unabashed the child retorted,
"I said I don't fukkin want it!"
Whey faced and trembling the teacher took him to the headmistress and explained what had happened. The older woman, who had vast experience of the mysterious workings of the child mind wondered if perhaps the boy had entirely understood. As she explained later, the possiblity existed that he had actually thought that his teacher wanted him to read the book aloud and so she explained to him that it was in fact a prize and smilingly offered the book to him once more.
Once more, with feeling, the then furious child shouted, "I don't fukkin want it!"
The stunned head sent for his mother and explained what she and her protege had attempted to do and, with great reluctance, added plaintively,
"So then I offered it to him myself ...but he just said...I...I don't fucking want it!"
The boy's mother then growled the now legendary response, "Well don't fukkin give him it!"