Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts

Friday, 10 September 2010

The World I Entered, 1954

Another re-creation from my lost Nostalgia web pages. I was born in 1954 in the bedroom of a semi-detached house in Rochdale, Lancashire. My mum was 19 and my dad was 22 and doing his National Service with the army.

I'm seen here with Mum, Nanna, her mother and Grandma Mercer, my great-grandmother. For the first couple of years of my life we lived with my Nanna and Grandad. I was followed after 11 months by my brother Frank, whose arrival so upset the family that they set fire to the house a week later resulting in smoke and fire damage to the entrance hall. Not that I remember this all that vividly, but I was told about it afterwards...

Dad, once he stopped playing at soldiers, got a job as an insurance surveyor in Manchester, peering into the inside of boilers and trying to decide whether they looked fit for purpose. I suspect my Mum was quite relieved. At the time, the Suez Crisis was rearing its head - British soldiers could still lose life and limb.

The after effects of World War II were still felt in Britain, as rationing was still in force when I came into being - "Have you got a coupon for that baby, Ma'am?"

Apparently Mum got extra rations because of me - isn't that nice?

Again, I had to be told this, I was too young to notice even the things that were soon to disappear like farthings - a quarter of a penny.

Heck, there were 240 pennies in a pound for Heaven's Sake, neatly counted in 20 lots of 12 pence known as a shilling. Pre-decimal England was a bewildering place for a baby of my tender years... or days... whatever! Luckily Mum did most of my shopping...

England in 1954 would be almost unrecognisable to people in these days. There were very very few cars on the roads (the above photo was taken in 1962 and is on the main road through the town centre of Rochdale about 300 yards from the town hall). Trains were still pulled by steam engines, supermarkets were non-existent, and the effects of two world wars in the 40 preceding years meant that there was a sort of military culture. Most people wore some sort of uniform for work even if it was only a white "laboratory" coat worn by shopworkers, or a very strict dress code - very few men did not wear a tie.

Best clothes, meaning suits and ties came out every Sunday. The photo is of my grandparents relaxing at home on a Sunday. Not a special occasion of any sort. Not to have your shirt tucked into your trousers was enough to make people faint... Sorry, slight exaggeration there, but it simply wasn't something you would even contemplate! People in authority at home, at work or in jobs such as the police force, or any job in charge of the environment you were in at the time such as a station master, were respected and deferred to. In the main people followed a well regulated and ordered lifestyle. Oh - and you called everyone "Sir" or "Miss" or "Madam". If you knew them it was probably "Mr X" or "Mrs X". Even some married couples called each other by that!

People got married much younger - it was just about the only way you were ever going to get to have sex! There was no pill, and the danger of pregnancy was drummed into girls. There was an tinge of disgrace about getting pregnant before being wed. Even Mum, who wed Dad a good 4 months before I came into the world, felt compelled to wear a green dress for the wedding - wearing white would not have been "the done thing" in her condition! And she had the support of her family - many girls were thrown out of the house. 40 years earlier, many of them would have been locked away in institutions for having a baby!

Televisions were rare and in any case had only one channel - the BBC. Nanna and Grandad had one - a huge wooden thing with a tiny screen. By the time I was old enough to want to watch it the BBC had been joined by ITV. The photo shows my other grandparents' TV and is from the turn of the 50s/60s. Huge by earlier standards! Note the coal scuttle standing to the right, ready to feed the open fire in the fireplace.

The radio was called the "wireless" and was still large enough to be a piece of furniture! They were full of valves as yet, even portable radios were the size of a handbag. There were no computers, no electronic anything... Things that plugged in were "electric" and electric things to play with did not yet exist apart from Dansette record players, the wireless and the television. All of these were expensive things!

Records played one song and then you turned them over and played the "B" side. 45s were only just coming out. Most people still bought the old 78rpm records that broke when sat on or knelt on... Rock and Roll was just beginning, mostly guitars were an instrument that you could never hear in an orchestra. Many houses had a piano in the "front room". Both sets of grandparents had one. On Mum's side it was Grandad who played it, favouring hymns, he was after all, the organist at the Park Baptist church. On my Dad's side it was Grandma Burke who played. (They were always Grandma and Grandad Burke whereas Mum's parents were just Nanna and Grandad without any surname!) She favoured music hall and ballads - Carolina Moon was one I used to enjoy hearing her play.

Ok, so let's introduce you to the clan so you know who's who in this set of pages.

This was taken at my christening, where I ended with the name John David Burke, John after my paternal grandfather and David after Mum's brother - the slightly nervous 14-year-old who looks unsure as to whether to curtsy or not...

Top row: Auntie Cissie - Grandad Burke's sister (she was really called Mary but never used it as she hated people saying it as though it rhymed with "furry"), Grandad Burke, Grandad (Frank Metcalfe).

Middle row: a friend of the family - could be the next door neighbour I think, this is Nanna and Grandad's back garden, Grandma Burke, Nanna

Front row: Dad (Allan Burke), Mum (Evelyne) holding me, Uncle David (I called him "Dowa" as a baby but then when my brother, Frank, came along that proved too hard for him to manage and it got shortened to "Dow" which he still gets called at times), Great-Grandma Mercer.

Grandma Burke and Nanna were both housewives, that is, they spent all day enjoying the best that 1950s gadgetry could provide in the way of helping with household chores and sewing and cooking - which wasn't a lot in those days. I suppose both halves of the family were fairly well off, considering. Both had indoor toilets and bathrooms - by no means did everyone have those things!

Grandad owned a grocery shop in Rochdale and had a "sit-up-and-beg" Ford Prefect car to deliver weekly grocery orders around the town. More of the shop in another page.

Grandad Burke was an engineer who made carpentry and other tools for a local firm. He had lost the little finger and the one next to it in an accident at work sometime around World War I, which put paid to any dreams he may have had of joining up - though he was in a reserved occupation anyway. Both fingers were non-existent, they had been amputated at the very knuckle of the fist of his right hand. Being smacked by that hand didn't half hurt!

What else sets the scene? There were no fast food shops - fish and chips were the staple of the drunken after-hours set, though at least this had taken over from the ghastly tripe and vinegar of the earlier generation! Queen Elizabeth was getting used to the idea of being Queen, Rochdale was "Home of Gracie Fields", the world's first nuclear submarine was launched, the Cold War was hotting up, Bill Haley released "Rock Around the Clock", Marilyn Monroe married Joe DiMaggio and the Creature from The Black Lagoon popped out at cinema audiences in glorious black and white 3D!

Very few people had telephones in their houses at this time. I only saw them being used on TV and was actually terrified of them as a small child. I remember having nightmares where the sky would go dark and then every time someone somewhere in the street would use a telephone, this gigantic scary face would appear in the sky, scowling down at me whilst talking silently into a telephone. They always seemed just about to "get" me! I had, luckily, grown out of this phase by the time we got our first phone when I was 12...

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Saturday, 3 July 2010

Culture Clash at the Kasbah!

4 March 2004. Tour time in Agadir, Morocco. We were on a half-day city tour having spent the morning on the ship. The tour included a trip to the Kasbah and a botanical garden and a souk - market.

We were warned that the locals would not take no for an answer and that anyone who walked next to you talking would expect payment for acting as a guide whether invited or encouraged or not.

The reality was even more in-your-face. Fran had the baby goat more or less thrown at her and instinct made her catch the poor thing. Both locals wanted paying for this photo! I had to wonder how they could stand wearing all those layers in that heat!!!

Others were even more unlucky though. One woman who wandered away from her husband was grabbed and lifted onto the back of a camel despite her protests. The camel was then raised to its feet and carried her off several hundred yards and the equivalent of 30 pounds charged to bring her back! It was all a bit of a revelation!

The souk was interesting but you were just never let alone for a second. Stall holders would physically pull you into a shop. There was some brilliant stuff there though - the wooden box looking like two books sandwiching vertical blocks of wood was a "magic box" with intricate sliding panels and hidden mechanisms to first find a key and then uncover the keyhole to open it. But although half the tourists would have bought one had it just had a reasonable price on it, none of us were into all the palaver of bargaining and bartering that was involved to buy one. A true culture clash!

The young lad in the background of this shop came over to tell me I had a nice smile and I got a laugh when I immediately offered "you can have a photo - five euros..."

Several of the group were feeling uncomfortable in the large souk and we ended up in a huddle with several armed police watching over us until it was time for the guide to come back with the coach.

This then took us to a beach area thronging with more jewellery salesmen - genuine fake watches etc - and a good view of the remains of the Kasbah up on the hill. Spoiling this vista of exotic Morocco was a MacDonalds, all bright red plastic, a hideous chunk of America plonked in the middle of African culture with no concession to its surroundings. Not sure what food was being served - MacDonalds may not try to fit in with the local aesthetics, but they do serve locally acceptable cuisine and that (had we been tempted to try it) may have been another culture shock!

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Wednesday, 11 March 2009

EPCOT

Saturday 10 July 1993. Today we are at EPCOT, Disney's Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow.

Gill thinks it should stand for Every Person Comes Out Tired... EPCOT has two bits - a science and nature section with the landmark golf ball structure at its centre and The World Showcase, a series of themed building collections based on various countries from around the world. Judging from the bit representing England, I suspect they are all a bit of a cliche'd view of the countries. England had the Rose and Crown Pub next door to a Tudor half timbered building, next door to the Norman castle... Pretty much what you find in real life nowhere.

We sailed across the lagoon on a ferry which probably wasn't the best thing to do as we were now right in the middle of the World Showcase and couldn't go both ways at once... This is the Germany bit - a very picturesque bit of Bavaria. More picturesque actually than I remember Bavaria being...

This chap was strolling around playing a squeezebox and singing under his breath, presumably to save his voice for when some tourist turned up. Once he spotted us he did get louder and it seemed to me to be eminently sensible not to sing your heart out and give yourself a sore throat unless there was someone to admire it. In fact his hairstyle was worthy of admiration. I suspect he'd been given an electric shock shortly before someone from a duelling school swung a very sharp sword...

Some of the "countries" had a ride and some had live entertainment. China had a filmshow projected all the way round the inside of a circular pagoda building which was really good and they also had acrobats and plate spinners outside - it would have spoiled the film inside...

Japan had some drum bangers, which I found difficult to get into, the rhythms they use didn't gel with my ideas of music but that was the whole point of the World Showcase - a chance to immerse yourself briefly in a different culture, where all the staff were of the relevant indiginous ethnicity and spoke the language but also spoke English if you didn't. Many of the staff were students from the relevant country, who had taken the ultimate in holiday jobs. We spoke to Victoria in the Twinings Tea shop in England who, when prompted, turned in a very proper and refined English accent.

The souk in Morocco was a much more laid back place than the souk we visited in the real Morocco - no one attempted to drag us into their stall and no one pestered us or threw baby goats at us so we would catch them by instinct and that be taken as an invitation to take a polaroid and sell it us for twenty quid...

In the America bit a singing troupe told the story of the American national anthem and the audience all joined in to sing it and then congratulated each other on how good it had been. "Boy, what a great way to start the day," one chap said and there was no hint of irony or self-conciousness about it. They take their patriotism seriously in the US of A. The story telling and the singing was done very well and I have to think in retrospect that I envy them their opportunity to wave flags and sing their national anthem without some lunatic trying read something into it and tarnish it. But then again, there is nothing to envy in the sort of culture regarding guns that sees a far greater percentage of their population, especially children, shot dead by lunatics than any other civilised country.

Here we are in a suddenly deserted spot with Italy or France as our background and able to rest the camera on a flat surfact and put it on a self-timer to take a photo of the three of us together. Italy was themed more around Venice than Rome with a scaled down version of the Doges Palace.

Here is Mexico. Had we not taken the ferry to the middle of the World Showcase, Mexico would have been our starting point. A massive Aztec (or was it Inca?) pyramid takes pride of place and whilst it was bright daylight outside, the interior is a night scene and held a boat ride themed on The Three Caballeros cartoon.

Outside the Inca (or was it Aztec?) pyramid the entertainers were superb and large crowds gathered to watch and applaud them and have their photos taken with them.

And finally here is Gill, fancying the roast beef on offer in dear old Blighty, outside the Rose and Crown pub. I really enjoyed the World Showcase and whenever going to Florida is discussed as a possibility, it is this place I particularly think of. We'll visit EPCOT again before the holiday is over.

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