A friend of mine related a story to me at the weekend.  It involved her looking for a place in Sefton Park where her father had requested his ashes be scattered.  His idea was that they be spread at the Iron Bridge, the Victorian span across "The Dell", or as I used to know it as a child, Fairy Glen.  On finding the spot, my friend decided that the water coursing through the Dell was rather dirty and that this could not be the final resting place for her beloved father.  Eventually, she settled on scattering them just outside the perimeter fence of the Palm House.  It was with some remorse that she explained this, as though this was some make-do position, not in keeping with her fathers wishes.  I was able to explain that she really could not have found a much better location.

I grew up around Sefton Park and visited at least once a week throughout the 60's.  It was a wonderful place.  Boats on the lake; motor boats with such a distinctive sound and a smell from the fuel that I would recognise to this day; and large rowing boats, capable of holding maybe eight people at a time.  The boat keeper would wear a uniform and a hat and carry a long pole with a hook on the end to grab the boats while it's passengers got out.
There was the aviary, full of exotic birds and the odd peacock, just round the corner from the park café that did a roaring trade in ice-lollies and cups of OXO depending on the season.  There were even men pedaling round fridges on trikes, selling ice cream.  Beyond the aviary was the Peter Pan statue, I never tired of walking round it and finding the sculptured mice and snails and all the other tiny details that had gone into this piece of work.

 

 

 

And then there was the Palm House.  
As a child, this Victorian masterpiece was the most imposing building I could imagine.  I loved it.  It was always warm and always peaceful, and full of the most exotic plants that would make my eyes open so wide with wonder.  This was a very special place.  You wouldn't see children running round and round, shouting and screaming...they walked and observed.  People whispered rather than talked as if subliminally respecting the place as one would in a church.  It definitely had a spirituality about it.

    

During the late 70's and into the 80's, The Palm House began to fall, sadly like the rest of the park, into a state of neglect.  After the park celebrated its centenary in 1972, not much was done with the place until the International Garden Festival of 1984.  In 1989, the Palm House was finally shut up as an unsafe building.  By 1991 I was still visiting the park, now pushing a pram and being trailed by a small pack of Greyhounds.  Looking up at the deserted, glassless and rusty frame of the once jewel of this park, was so sad.

    

Fortunately, many other people felt this sadness and were moved to campaign for a restoration plan to take place.  Major work went on through the 90's, which finally led to the Palm House fully re-opening to the public in 1999.  One of the contributors to the cause was George Harrison.  I do not know the details regarding his involvement, but I would sincerely suspect that he himself had similar fond childhood memories of this place.

           

Only last night, I became aware of a campaign to get a lasting memorial to George erected in Liverpool.  John and Paul have their memorials in the form of their childhood homes being looked after and preserved by the National Trust.  I really do think that George and Ringo should also be remembered in some public way.  I can't help but believe that the ideal place for any sort of memorial to George should be within the confines of the Palm House.  It would be perfect.  The 8 statues around the glass house are sculptured images of botanists and explorers.  How apt would it be for George to be among them?  "George Harrison 1943-2001 Gardener and Musician"  The understatement, I am sure would have appealed to him much more than being depicted with a guitar in Cavern Walks.  The serenity and spirituality of the setting would also be perfect.  

People will always say "What did the Beatles ever do for Liverpool?"  I consider this to be the most ridiculous statement that really needs no explanation.
I would dearly love to see some kind of memorial unveiled, ideally by Olivia, in the year that the city has been granted Capital of Culture, 2008.  (An accolade that George certainly played his part in achieving for this city.)  I don't believe this is an unrealistic notion.  I was not part of the campaign to restore The Palm House to its former glory, I would love to part of making sure George is remembered by future generations in a reverent and appropriate way.

The Peter Pan statue, I previously mentioned, was vandalised years ago and left in a terrible state.  In November 2005, after a thorough restoration, it was finally placed outside the Palm House for everyone to enjoy once more. When I visited the statue for the first time in its new location, it actually brought a lump to my throat, it looked as good as I remembered it from childhood.....and my mice are still there.

My friend feels a whole lot more comfortable about her dads resting place.  It's a spot filled with love.  Where better?

Blog Home

TOP
© Fab Productions 2006