Search the site

  

Grab my RSS feed | (What's this?)

About...

Paul Baker

Waterloo-based journalist, Paul Baker, likes to think of himself as an urban bohemian, spending his days indulging fantasies of being a 'serious' writer, musician and photographer. He is actually a disagreeably honest and pathologically argumentative ne'er-do-well. Join him as he wades through this thing we call life, this city we call home, and all things despicable!

Tag cloud...

Sponsored links

Recent Posts

Feeds

Categories

Useful links

Archives

Sponsored links

Latest Posts...

Give just an hour of your life... (part two)

Posted by Paul Baker on July 7, 2007 9:38 AM | 

(...continued)

Cutting through the gardens of The Church of Our Lady and Saint Nicholas on Chapel Street, the wind dies once more, though the lunchtime picnickers are few and wearing coats. The month is July, in the year of Our Lord, 2007. It’s a strange old time. I pass what appears to be a wedding party at the doors to the Church. Perhaps two of the group look like they might have been famous once. “Footballers?� I reason.
Crossing Chapel Street I turn into Rumford Place. The 27-storey Unity Building is pretty much complete now, but a year ago this street would have been bustling with hard hats and workmen, plus a couple of Portacabins on the corner.
On a Friday lunchtime they would stroll with me down one of my favourite streets in town, Fazakerley Street. It is a strange road, slightly out of time, containing the remnants of shops from a more thriving time – probably just five or ten years earlier.
I first encountered this street when I was invited to lunch by that affable Scouse character, George McKane, who at the time lived here within Irwell Chambers. But yes, that must be another tale in itself.
So the builders of Liverpool’s new Meccano set could be seen lunching and letting off steam in the environs of one of Fazakerley Street’s remaining businesses, William Hill. Many would stand before the blinking and buzzing TV sets, a roll of ten pound notes in hand, their Friday payday might be about to get much better.
Once one of the men tapped me on the shoulder and suggested I watch the regular. He was playing a computerised roulette game. Almost unbelievably his winnings had risen close to the £1,000 mark and a crowd was surreptitiously gathering. Then the 1.50 from Newcastle began to come to an exciting finale. We all turned to cheer our nag home.
When the stubs were all torn up we realised our roulette king had slipped away. Did he carry a token worth more than a grand in his grey overcoat? We could believe what we wanted to, whatever made us feel better but, for today, lunchtime was over.

TrackBack

TrackBack<$MTEntryTrackbackLink$>>

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference <$MTEntryTitle$>:

">

» <$MTPingTitle$> from <$MTPingBlogName$>
<$MTPingExcerpt$> [Read More]

Tracked on <$MTPingDate$>

Comments (1)

Anonymous wrote...

I like these.

Posted by: Anonymous  | November 20, 2007 12:02 PM

Post a comment

(If you haven't left a comment here before, you may need to be approved by the site owner before your comment will appear. Until then, it won't appear on the entry. Thanks for waiting.)