When I was a little girl the above words were often spouted because few
of us in our neighbourhood had watches. In fact a lot of us had very little of
this world’s goods and so it made sense to believe it was perfectly safe to
leave your doors unlocked and sometimes open. But just as there were policemen
on the beat in those days there were also thieves about. I remember our gas
meter getting broken into and all the pennies in the wooden moneybox Dad had
made me were stolen.
I doubt the crime was reported
to the police but Dad set about creating his own deterrent that would chop their
fingers off if they tried to get in our house again and rob our meter or my
pennies.
Growing up in the forties
and fifties I developed what some called a healthy fear and respect for the
police and other people’s property. Even walking along someone else’s wall and
seeing a policeman approach would have me scrambling to the ground like
lightening. When I found a ten shilling note amongst the autumn leaves on the way
to the flicks I didn’t keep it but handed it in to the nearest man in uniform
who just happened to be the retired soldier who was the doorman at the
cinema.
My cynicism these days
suggests that no doubt he pocketed it and bought himself a couple of pints when
he knocked off work. My husband was also brought up honest. When he found a suitcase full of the old white five pound notes he took it home and showed his dad, who instantly
ordered him to take it to the police station in Tuebrook and hand it in. This he did and
that was the last he heard of it.
The closest I ever got to a
policeman was when one visited our primary school to give us a puppet show and
teach us our kerb drill. Occasionally at home there
would be mention of someone called Icky the fire bobby who would come and lock
us up if we didn’t behave. But he never did make an appearance. Our
neighbourhood was working class but reasonably respectable. Although I remember
hearing of a punch up outside the chippy around the corner and a lad getting
his eye gorged out. My eldest brother’s brush with the police would seem
ludicrous today in that he was taken to court and fined for playing football in
the street.
Why am I chunnering on about
the police, etc.?
Early yesterday my husband and I were doing our early morning walk.
Normally we only meet dog walkers, cyclists and the odd jogger. We certainly
didn’t expect to come across a very youthful looking policeman standing on the
path. In the background we could see that tape one sees on telly in such
programmes as Lewis, Midsummer Murders and George Gently which
generally signals a crime scene.
Jokingly I said, ‘I’m waiting
for you to say “You shall not Pass” just like Gandalf does in the Fellowship
of the Rings.’
‘Sorry, you can’t pass,’ he
said apologetically.
So we had to retrace our steps
and make our way home by a different route. It was not the first time we’ve
encountered a policeman on our walk. A few years ago there was a naked body in
the canal which fortunately had already been reported to the police by a couple
of fishermen. The police arrived a few minutes after we did and we were quickly
escorted away from the spot. Not a pleasant experience as it reminded me that
one of my aunts had drowned in the Leeds-Liverpool just a few miles away
beneath a bridge in Kirkdale. It was during WW2 and I was only a toddler at the
time so was unaware of the tragedy.
So where do the police figure in my writing?
My son, Tim, who has a degree
in Screenwriting from John Moores University, had an idea to write a series
about a police family. It never got to the screen because it was a period piece
and he knew that it would be expensive to put on. He suggested I had a go at
writing about a police family. I had already written a saga about the
Liverpool’s police strike of 1919 a few years earlier called SOMEONE TO
TRUST and enjoyed doing the historical research.
So bearing Tim’s idea in mind
and I decided to do more research. In the library I was recommended a book
called From Cutlasses to Computers - The Police Force in Liverpool 1836-1989.
I found it fascinating and it gave me a respect and admiration for those
earlier pioneers trying to bring law and order to Liverpool’s city streets and
for those today, including policewomen who also helped with my research.
My police family can be found
in MEMORIES ARE MADE OF THIS and IT’S NOW OR NEVER published by Severn
House. Ask at your nearest library.
P.S. In today's Liverpool Echo it was reported that a man had allegedly been sexually assaulted in Rimrose Valley Country Park on Thursday night. The police were called to the crime scene.
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