23rd May 2019 “A sign of the times”

A handful of days ago, with, yet again, a similar number of days left before I would resume my “global adventures”, I realised that I needed to confirm that my vaccinations were up to date. My medical centre recommended a place in Manchester who would be able to take care of any outstanding requirements.

Today, I commenced walking to the railway station, my place of employment for 43 years, including 21 years based at the nearby loco depot. From here, a late running train was about to leave.

I am writing this blog in the 6th floor “restaurant” of what was Kendals in Manchester, my very first place of gainful employment. In April 1966, I gained a week’s experience, while still at school, in the Boy’s Department. I remember very little of this embryonic time of earning a living. In September of that year, having scraped through just three G.C.E. O-levels in English, French, and Art, I commenced full time employment in Kendals’ “Trunks Dept” (Dept 52) on the basement floor. Mr. Curtis was the Buyer, Mr. Forth the Assistant Buyer, Mr.Baldwin, Mr.Dyer, Mrs McDonald, another lady, (I think, Mrs Glover) and eventually me, were sales assistants. Mr. Forth passed away while in service. I progressed to the Dept 65 (Toys) for the rest of my time at Kendals, moving on to a new career as Dealer Representative for Flymo in January 1970. Personnel in the Toys department included Mr. Young, the Buyer, Mr. Hedley his assistant, Mr. Peter Thorpe the grumpy but highly amusing Senior Salesman, and a bevy of attractive female staff who regarded me with less admiration! Carl Bowen looked after the stock room.

Around 10 years ago, maybe more, Kendals reinvented itself as House of Fraser. It had been part of that organisation even during my employment in there in the late 1960s, the flagship store being Harrods. Occasionally, usually in connection with later work, I would walk past and observe a subtle “it’s-not-what-it, used-to-be” feeling about it. Around two years ago, its closure was announced; today it is “rescued” the saviour whose name escapes me. All six floors are full of merchandise. The sense of occasion ambience is no longer so evident. Strangely, the Trunks Dept has plenty more to offer, now on the fifth floor. I remember selling Samsonite back in the day. Samsonite remains prominent and plentiful in 2019…and expensive!

I also walked past Brown Street where for a short while, I was a life assurance consultant with Canada Life. Unintentionally, I had revisited three of my five places of employment, a journey down Memory Lane I doubt I will take too often.

And yes, my travel inoculations are up to date and valid for next week’s journey.

Walking back to Piccadilly Station, I retraced steps of a life long ago firstly to St. Ann’s Church which I would visit very occasionally during my brief time at Canada Life. By that time, the office had transferred from the dingy Victorian accommodation on Brown Street (since demolished) to much more becoming and modern premises on St. Ann’s Square. My career there was hardly glittering and I left after around 18 months. I did, however, attain a very good understanding of the life assurance industry which would stand me in good stead throughout my life.

I revisited the Church which felt larger than I recall, and very much more interesting. One of the clergy (I presume, judging by his clerical attire) engaged me in brief conversation. I explained that I had heard Lord Longford speak there in the early 1970s. He assured me he would try to find reference to his visit in church records, and invited me back after my travels.

Today was gloriously sunny and Manchester vastly different from how I recall it over 45 years ago. I took photographs on my phone with the same enthusiasm I had in San Francisco or Melbourne. I am now on the train home. There was a service ready to leave as soon as I arrived at the station.

I enjoyed my oddysey to the days of yore with almost the agility and stamina of half a century ago. I can’t say the same about my hair! Although I have lost weight recently, I am still over 3 stone heavier than I was in my twenties….another sign of the times.

The restaurant (above three pictures) on what was Kendals’ 6th floor, the days of silverware and table linen long since gone.

Down one floor to where the “Trunks Dept” now is.

An extensive choice of luggage!

The 4th floor. It was around this pillar (first picture) that I held an exhibition of railway memorabilia in September 1968 to commemorate The End of Steam on British Rail a month earlier, as illustrated here. Most of the signage handwritten by the Display Dept survives in my collection.

This area (above) in the basement was once the location of the Boy’s Dept. We would supply uniforms for some of the high-end schools in the North of England, as well as boys’ casual ware.

The now slightly less prominent Art Deco exterior of the former Kendals, without the neon “KENDALS” which gave the building its special look during the “glory days”.

(Above) Two views of Police Street, off the now pedestrianised King Street, immediately behind the original Kendals of the mid to late 19th Century, which was still the furniture building. A subway passage beneath Deansgate used to connect both the old and “new” buildings.

The short lived offices of Canada Life in St. Ann’s Square.

Inside and outside St. Ann’s Church.

Brown Street. The newer buildings in the first picture are roughly where the long term location of Canada Life, on the 2nd floor was; the Victorian red brick buildings long since torn down. The second picture illustrates the style of architecture which these new buildings replaced, and to which the original buildings were attached.

Today’s nostalgic journey was not planned, and did not materialise this way until after my visit to the “travel clinic”. Walking into Kendals was on impulse; being so very close by, curiosity got the better of me. I returned home by train, calling briefly at the train crew facilities to have a chat with former colleagues. I then took a taxi to the Polling station, cast my vote for the European Elections and walked home the rest of the way.

My school friend, now of around 65 years called. We reminisced for an hour and eight minutes. Another sign of the times. Now, with less than a week before driving to Southampton for the start of my further travels, I must focus on preparing for an astonishing trip to Central and North America.

David.