American soldiers landing in Liverpool enroute to their new camp at Aintree. For an eyewitness account of their journey through Walton Vale read here.
His face was red and growing redder. Veins bulged above and beneath the rope digging into his neck. Engines revved and the two jeeps pulled at each end of the rope and I half closed my eyes, expecting to see the man’s head pop away from his body and fly high into the air. But the man remained standing, snarling in triumph. He didn’t look human, more a lump of muscle with a shaved bullet head and eyes that were now looking into mine. This was my first memory of the Grand National and it frightened the life out of me. I was about three or four at the time and for some time after dreamt about a fierce red face that suddenly exploded. We went to the National every year but I never saw him again. The Grand National was the social event of the year in Liverpool - especially its off-the-course activities, and it all took place a few hundred yards from where we lived.
During the war years there was little call for horse-racing and Liverpool was too dangerous for American celebrities to visit. Instead Aintree Racecourse became a giant camp ground for infinitely more useful people, American soldiers. One of these soldiers was Ralph - a nephew of my grandmother - the American branch of the Henry family. He called several times at my grandfather’s at 24 Helsby Road. Once he borrowed ten shillings - but what that has to do with the Grand National, I don’t know.
More tales from the Races tomorrow.
2 comments:
I found your blog by accident, I was trying to remember the names of the Avenues off Wyresdale Road and up jumped your blog.
I got lost in the past. I must just be a bit older than you, names just elude me.
The only friend on Ribblesdale I had was Woggsie Blundell he lived a couple of houses on the left going in.
I was up the old sub-stations lot. It wasn’t called the Alamo then but it fits. It looked over onto wrights/ whites yard. David Wright was a friend, visited me once years later when I lived in Los Angeles.
Got carried away there. I’m Ken Lewis my Brother Norman and I lived at 15 Eastbourne from 1940 to 1960ish.
Enjoyed wandering through your blog and your stories. As well as comments from others. They were from several years back I know let me know if your blog is still active I’d enjoy chatting.
One Wyresdale denizen has just passed. Joey Fegan
Ken
Hi Ken, it was so good hearing from you, and thanks for dropping by. The local history/warbreck moor posts, and the Blessed Sacrament and St Bonaventure's posts have stimulated a fair bit of discussion and the comments make fascinating reading. There was an old lady called Mrs Blundell (well, old to a ten year old) living in, 6 Ribblesdale but then that would be on the right going down towards the powerstation.
Yes, the blog is still active and it would be good to keep in touch. My email is keytons@btinternet.com and I'm on facebook - only partly for marketing reasons. Speaking of which, if you would like the book 'Record of a Baffled Spirit: A Liverpool Childhood 1947-1973. Packed with far detail and photographs, it's snip at £5 on kindle. Unless you're rich from your time spent in America I don't advise the paperback which is ludicrously expensive but over which I had no control. Ink/paper inflation, photos + I chose the quality option. But there it is.
If you explore the link, you'll find it easy enough. Anyway, you must let me know how you ended up in Los Angeles. I did enjoy a wonderful year in America, teaching in New York before going onto exploring the country. Anyway. Enough. Here's the link
https://www.amazon.co.uk/s?k=a+liverpool+childhood+1947+-+1973+michael+keyton&i=digital-text&crid=36DE25K531S1X&sprefix=%2Cdigital-text%2C49&ref=nb_sb_ss_recent_1_0_recent
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