The Rightful Hair

Well, I wanted to give Mercedes' words star billing, so I've avoided posting any other blog entries since. But, like all good things, there comes a time to move on. I wish Mercedes well—she's a really nice person, and she deserves all the success she can achieve.

I've been working on the 'Wife's family tree' project this week. I took a week-long subscription to an online archive of nineteenth century newspapers, and I've been having a ball reading what some of the barn-pots and simpletons of old got up to.

Not that the wife's ancestors are barn-pots and simpletons, of course; rogues, perhaps, but by and large loveable ones.

Here's one I particularly loved:

LIVERPOOL POLICE COURT
MONDAY, MAY 29.

NOT THE RIGHTFUL HAIR--Mary Judge, a fish-hawker, was charged on remand with seriously assaulting Alexander May and Mary Cheers. On the night of the 20th instant, the prisoner was selling fish in Kitchen Street, and, in consequence of a remark by Mrs Cheers, picked up a brick and struck her on the head. May went to call a police-officer, and the prisoner followed him and struck him on the head with another brick, inflicting serious injuries. In defence, the prisoner said the prosecutor assaulted her; and she produced a bundle of hair as having been pulled from her head by him. The hair was, however, not of the same colour as that on her head. She was committed to hard labour for two months.

Liverpool Mercury, 30th May, 1871

I love daft people like this.

A Short History of Here 1

Who, what, where is Liverpool?

If you’re British, you probably have an opinion about Liverpool and its denizens. Much is often said about the city and its people, some of it even good :-)

If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to allocate some space on this blog to offer you an ongoing virtual tour of Liverpool and what it means to be Liverpudlian. If, along the way, one or two myths are dispelled, then so be it. But I don’t want to preach, and I hope not to flinch at the good or the bad.

There is no truth that we’ve personalised seats down at the unemployment offices. But there is the possibility we’d mud wrestle our granny for a tenner.

• Scouse (noun) Scow-ss - A cheap, thick broth or stew made from left over meats and vegetables originally favoured by the poorest population of Liverpool.
  
  
• Scouser (noun) Scow-sir – A person who comes from Liverpool.

It’s also true that all Scousers are comedians. Even the miserable bastards are usually good for a quip or two.

The city is steeped with a rich history. It has more listed buildings than any other city outside London. Its wealth is built on the shame of slavery, though in truth it has existed as a port since the middle ages. In modern times it suffered from the German blitz, and from the subsequent blight in urban renewal. For many years the name Liverpool was synonymous with Militant Unionism, a brush its labour force struggles to rid itself of to this day. 2008 sees Liverpool acting out its European Capital of Culture year. It's not clear to me whom of the visitors or the resident Scousers has seen this as the bigger culture shock.

But it is clear to me there's a lot of good in this city, and hopefully I can blog this in an interesting and informative way.

Thank you for reading this far.