15 August 2008

15/ 8/2008

I’m back from enjoying a fantastic long weekend with my family in New York and what a weekend it was. It’s the second time I’ve been lucky enough to visit the ‘Big Apple’. The first time, I went on a sort of pilgrimage way back in March 1999 in order to light a candle for my grandmother's birthday in St Patrick’s Cathederal on Fifth Avenue. She was born on the 17th of March (St Patrick’s day) and I always did this at St Patrick’s, Collyhurst, every year since she died in 1964.

If this is now going to sound a bit morbid, it is not my intention. Just bear with me and all will be revealed.

In 1963 when my baby died, like other bereaved mothers I was bereft. Lots of people gave lots of advice but it was my Auntie Nellie who gave me the best snippet that has kept me going through thick and thin. She said that you must always set yourself something to aim for and to keep going for it until you achieve it even if it’s only a small thing. It’s something that will keep the blues away and keep you looking forward instead of dwelling on the past.

So this is why after my Gran died in 1964 and my husband in 1998, I set myself the task of lighting a candle for Gran on the 17th March, still at St Patrick’s church but in a different country and that year (1999) it was St P’s in New York.

I went on my own and from the word go, it was, magical.

Firstly, at Ringway as I took my place at check-in and waved back at my son who had taken me to the airport; he indicated for me to look behind and there smiling at me was the comedian Frank Carson. As it turned out we were seated next to each other, which I’m sure doesn’t leave much to the imagination as to the kind of entertainment I was privy to.

The seven hour journey flew past like a dream and even when we arrived at JFK he had me in fits laughing at the performances of the airport security staff. The size of the women in blue uniforms made me and Frank Carson feel like dwarfs. The way they walked up and down the stalls where we passengers had to wait in line ready to be called over to one of the passport control desks was menacing as they had one thumb hitched on the wide belt around their astronomical waist whilst the other hand would be at the ready, resting on the handle of their gun.

And all the while, Frank Carson was softly whistling the theme tune from the film ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’. I was laughing so much that by the time my turn had come to be screened by the man behind the glass screen I was in bits and trying not to show disrespect by laughing in his face.I eventually made it through to the arrivals lounge and said goodbye to Frank who was in New York for the St Patrick’s Day celebrations.

I remember him telling me that every year during St P week, Americans leave the USA and go to Ireland whilst the Irish make a mass exodus to the Big Apple.

Well, I lit my candle for Gran in the famous Cathederal, sang ‘Hail Glorious St Patrick' with tears streaming down my face, remembering how we school kids used to sing it in Livesey Street wearing our Shamrock.

I signed the visitors book and then got carried away with myself and tagged along at the back of the parade and walked with the pride down Fifth Avenue as though I belonged. I didn’t see Frank in the parade but we travelled together on the journey back to England which was every bit as colourful and interesting as was the outward flight.

So, nine years later there I was back in NY. This time with my family and seeing NY all dressed up in sunshine and lusciously green with the trees in full bloom. My daughter-in-law, taking into account my problematic sciatica, had arranged for us to explore and discover NY by means of a structured five-hour bus tour and then the next evening a three-hour boat tour down and back up the Hudson River during which the boat passes across the Statue of Liberty, just like in the movies and then on the journey back just as twilight descends and the deep blue night-sky sets the scene for the changing face of the Manhattan skyline, all the lights in the skyscraper buildings twinkle and dancing like a silent firework display that goes on and on until the sunshine puts it to sleep until the next night.

There are so many stories to tell you about both trips I made to New York which I will do whenever there is an appropriate time but for now I must tell you about my latest prized possession from across ‘the pond’.

Every room within the Edison Hotel, and I am presuming in every hotel-room in NY, there are at least three or four telephone directories. At this point I want to remind you about the story I told you concerning my fascination with my 1952 London telephone directory. Well, can you imagine how engrossed I was by the ‘Manhattan’ directory with its adverts, list of cosmopolitan names and its business addresses. I know it sounds sad but hey, who cares?

On my last day with my cases packed and ready to fly back home, I flicked one last time through the massive directory and decided I couldn’t go home without having tried to obtain one for myself. As I made my way down to the ground floor from my 23rd floor room, I rehearsed how I’d plead for an out of date directory hoping that the staff might be a little more human and not too ‘jobsworthy’ as they are here in England.

‘Would it be at all possible for you to let me have an out of date directory … ? I said imploringly as though my life depended on it.

‘Huh?’ said the man behind the desk who was wearing a name tag with ‘Toby’ written on it. ‘Ma'am, why do you want one that’s out of date?’ At this point my heart sank because I thought he was going to refuse my request … ‘when you can have a current one … lady you’re welcome, whatever you like, enjoy’ and he placed a beautiful big thick, yellow directory with Manattan emblazoned across its brightly coloured cover.

Thanks Toby you really did make my day and every time I browse through it I will think of you and the Edison Hotel.

And now, it’s back to reality and of all things to discover on catching up with the news is that Moston Station is the worst in the UK for crime.

And which beggars the question as to why we members of the ‘New Moston Homewatch Committee’ have persistently been informed that New Moston is not regarded as a hotspot for crime and as a result lost our two Community Policemen a couple of years ago.

Hoping to combat the increasing crime taking place at the railway station, Network Rail are holding a ‘No Messin’ live event for 10 to 16-year-olds which will feature a variety of activities to try and interest youngsters and deter them from taking part in destructive vandalism.

Will this really get to the youths and people who are causing this damage? Wouldn’t CCTV and more police on the beat be a more effective deterrent than yet another load of money being spent on the wrong people?