65 Redington Road

I have lovely memories of visiting my mother’s parents in Liverpool when we came to England in the summer time. They lived in a modest semi detached home in Allerton, the largest garden on the road so my mother tells me. We were always greeted with warmth and laughter as we walked through the door. It was a long drive up, from Hertfordshire to Liverpool, the car journey taking about 4 hours or so. By the time we arrived, Nanna would have something prepared in the oven, if it wasn’t a warm dinner then it was freshly baked scones, Nanna’s pièce de resistance.

Nanna was a small lady with a huge smile and twinkly blue eyes. Incredibly well turned out from her head to to her toes, she took enormous pride in herself. Her job as a homemaker was taken seriously, she cooked and baked for the family, kept the financials in check and ensured the house was clean and tidy at all times. A housecoat was worn for the cleaning and a pinney for cooking. She ran a tight ship.

Nanna and me about to nurse Grandad

Grandad worked as a foreman for the Liverpool Parks and Gardens, later becoming the district superintendent. He was a humble, loving, quiet man who adored Nanna and his family. My mother would say he was very strict growing up, but as grandchildren he doted on us.

I think we must’ve stayed for about a week at a time. Our beds were made up, clean sheets and layers and layers of blankets and eiderdowns piled up high. Just incase we might get cold at night. We sunk into those beds, I think we barely stirred, Nicola and Julia and I shared the small front room, Julia and I top and tailing in one bed, Nicola in another, my parents in a room across the landing.

Breakfast, like every meal. was laid out beautifully. Tea out of cups and saucers, bowls and plates laid perfectly, toast cut into triangles displayed on toast racks, napkins at every placing. Nanna would recount the latest news of family and neighbours in the area. Neighbours were known as Mr and Mrs So and So. Nanna had called in to see Mr Potts, to see how he was, if there was anything he needed from the shops. He had unfortunately lost both legs. Mr Potts had called Nanna Gladys and not Mrs Culshaw, and that was that, she felt he was being too familiar and the visits abruptly ended.

Story after story of the lives of this person and that one, I absorbed it all.

At the end of breakfast, Grandad would collect all the crusts into an old margarine tub. One of my most treasured memories is Grandad throwing out the crusts onto the back lawn. We would rush upstairs to the bedroom and watch the birds come to feed . We would try and guess which bird was what, the robins were my favourite.

Nanna and Grandad, Nicola, Julia and I leaving Redington Road in our finest attire