BIRMINGHAM'S LIVERY STREET... (My poem about how Livery Street affected four stages of my life...)

 Birmingham’s Livery Street…

Livery Street,

The site of childhood delight

From whence a boy in a school blazer and tie,

To keep up an appearance of respectability

As well as a parental aspiration,

Was projected into Snow Hill’s railway station.

The heaven… 

The Cornishman, the Plymouth train,

Via Bristol Temple Meads

And Newton Abbot,

A ‘Hall’ maybe, or a ‘Castle’...

Numbers, ‘namers’ to spot and write down in a book,

Immersed in concentration... 

Livery Street,

The site of mid-teen placement,

From whence a boy of extreme shyness

To appease an aunt working on her comptometer

As well as glean parental satisfaction,

Became subjected to a warehouse’s distractions.

The workplace…

At Larkin’s, the distributor,

With brown paper wrapping

And neat parcels.

A box maybe, or a package...

Edges to fold and string to tie in a bow,

Rehearsed in interaction...

Livery Street,

The site of a marathon’s start,

From whence a teacher of stubborn nature,

To prove a point to a detractor

As well as succeed in an ambition,

Was ejected into mass attrition.

The start…

The cramped, slow motion walking

With number pinned

And eager feet.

A grin maybe, or a grimace...

Miles to run and stamina to wring from the mind,

Rehearsed for competition...

Livery Street,

The site of a profession’s conclusion

From whence a fellow of tearful disposition,

To take retirement from his vocation,

As well as engage in serious writing

Became dejected, strolled along, weather biting.

The loneliness…

The slumped, aching shoulders,

With arthritic knees

And scarred mind.

A wry smile maybe, or not...

Time to appraise and evaluate a life,

Traversed, yet quite exciting… 

Pete Ray

Birmingham’s Livery Street was instrumental in my life at four distinct points. 

The train from Birmingham to Plymouth left Snow Hill Station and to be going on holiday was my only thrill in a sheltered, rather downtrodden childhood. 

WITH MUM, EN ROUTE FROM SNOW HILL TO PLYMOUTH...

Livery Street was at the approach to the ‘Cornishman’, the express train to Penzance and I would look eagerly for named engines, usually the ‘Hall’ and ‘Castle’ classes. 

SNOW HILL STATION...

The picture of me sitting on that train with my mom, shows me wearing my primary school blazer, grey shirt and tie. 

Very sad. 

My aunt, Ivy, worked at Larkin’s in Livery Street and she managed to secure a couple of weeks’ work for me in the warehouse, where I took phone-calls for the first time ever and learned how to wrap parcels. 

LARKINS...

INVOICE FROM LARKINS...

I was about 15 years old.

ME WITH AUNT IVY...

In 1982, I ran the Birmingham Marathon, mainly because my then wife reckoned I couldn’t do it. 

I stopped playing football in December 1981 and did nine months of training for the 26 mile, 385 yard challenge. 

I had been hurt a couple of weeks before the run, then somehow managed an unwise 15 mile run 

seven days before the event, leaving me lie about and rest sore legs for a couple of days. 

The start in Livery Street was horrendous, like a true bottleneck and I hardly moved for the first five 

minutes, then barely walked onto Colmore Row, only 

beginning to jog when I reached the market area. 

RUNNING THE MARATHON...

The route was ugly but I was thrilled to finish in three and a half hours. 

WITH MUM, AFTER FINISHING...

When I ended my teaching career at Birmingham Museums & Art Gallery, I was parking my car in a side-road beyond the end of Livery Street and of course walked along it each day. 

IN ROLE AS THOTH-HOTEP, AN ANCIENT EGYPTIAN PAPYRUS MAKER AT BIRMINGHAM'S MUSEUM...

I loved my job and I walked back to my car for the final time, with ‘a face as long as Livery Street...’ 

IN ROLE AS A WW2 ARMY SERGEANT AT THE MUSEUM...