Sunday, 13 August 2017


Lovely to get Mum and my Auntie Peggy back in touch again today. 
The next thing will be to get them into the same room together! :-) x. 

#familyhistory #seamanfamilyhistory

Tuesday, 6 June 2017


The other day I was driving back home from town and I passed the playing field in the photograph below. Seeing it in this light, on such a bright sunny day, brought back fond memories for me, for this was the place I was brought to by the school to play football. 

Playing field - Jericho Lane (c) G.Seaman

My first school was Upper Park Street in Toxteth, which I attended until I was around seven years old. At the time our family was living with my grandparents in their rented house in Hughson Street, Toxteth in Liverpool 8. The school was an old building which dated back to Victorian times and stood in an ordinary inner city street off Park Road. It had a concrete playground where P.E. lessons occasionally took place, but apart from the odd bomb-site (or ‘bommie’ as we called them), there were certainly no wide open spaces available in the area for undertaking team sports such as football. And that is where the playing field, featured in the photo above comes into the story.

Upper Park Street School - (Best Memories of Park Road - Facebook)

As the crow flies the playing fields are actually only around two miles away from the school itself. By car it is not very far at all. Travel south along Park Road, turning right into Aigburth Road to then follow on straight down to the junction with Jericho Lane itself.

Former MPTE buses (photo Merseyside Transport Trust - Facebook)

Every week the excitement would build in our class as we knew that the bus would be coming to take us out there. I recall being in the playground over lunch. As the afternoon bell drew near, as if by magic the vehicle would suddenly appear in the road outside - a huge, green and shining double decker! Once lunch was over, the teachers would make us line up in the playground with our PE kit bags over our shoulders or held within sweaty palms; each one of us jostling for position, eager to get onto the vehicle as quickly as possible and grab the prime seats.

Parking bay - Jericho Lane (c) G.Seaman

My mates and I had a simple but brilliant plan, and that was to sit on one of the two long seats nearest to the rear platform. We did this so that we would then be the first group allowed onto the exit platform of the vehicle, each one of us primed and ready to jump off when the bus finally slowed down as it arrived at its stop outside the changing rooms in Jericho Lane. Boys being boys, we had to push the boundaries, so we dared each other to jump off before the bus had actually stopped. More often than not the teacher would stand across the platform, holding us back behind the safety chain until the brakes had been fully applied by the driver. But every now and again we would be able to edge closer while holding onto the handrail, our excitement building as we felt the breeze on our faces as the bus started to slow, getting ready to step off as soon as the teacher pulled the chain back from in front of us.    

Parking bay and field (c) G.Seaman

By the time the bus had finally stopped, as many of us as possible would have jumped off onto the pavement and hopefully lived to tell the tale… if we were lucky. If we were not so lucky, we’d be held back and receive a stern telling off from the teacher!

Changing rooms Jericho Lane (c) G.Seaman

The rest of the days' proceedings would be mostly irrelevant and completely forgettable, as I was generally hopeless at football. Consequently I spent the majority of my time on the field standing between two sticks while a gang of bigger lads fired a heavy leather football at me. This generally wasn’t good and it never ended well. I always seemed to come off worse and get blamed every time the opposition scored a goal. Needless to say I was always glad when we were back on the bus and heading home - tired, hungry and ready for our dinner.

And now? All these years afterwards?

I could never have imagined that I would be standing here in the sunshine, thinking back to those times which I remember as if they were only yesterday. When I was eight years old - feeling cold and shivering like a jelly - trying to play football in a snow-covered field with the rest of my mates from school, and failing miserably.

Maybe, just maybe, this could possibly be the reason why I now don’t like football? 

Friday, 19 May 2017


Philips EL3527 - the old valve tape recorder owned by my Dad...


Recorded on a Philips EL3527 tape recorder, a precious sound byte of my Dad - Charles Seaman - playing his Egmond acoustic guitar. The recording must date back to around 1968/69 when he first bought the guitar from Hessys Music shop in Liverpool.

He plays and sings a simple rendition of 'My Thanks To You', a ballad recorded during the 1950's by artists such as Steve Conway and Connie Francis. So far it is the only song I have found in my archive of his, as he had the annoying habit of using the same tapes over and over again to record both himself and also my brother and I.

At the end of the clip, as he turns off the tape after finishing the recording, another clip is revealed - a quick snippet of yours truly singing 'My Old Man's A Dustman' by Lonnie Donegan. I have more of this from another tape thankfully...but I wish I had more of Dad.

Looking at photographs and movies is one thing, but hearing his voice is priceless

Thursday, 20 April 2017


Thanks to the power of the Internet, and also the kindness of a stranger, I have received this photograph of the headstone on the grave of my 5x great-grandparents, Timothy Lait and Elizabeth Downing.

I had placed a request on the 'Find A Grave' website to ask if someone who lived locally in the small market town of Diss, in Norfolk, could check out the cemetary of St Mary's Church and see if there was an existing headstone in place. My request was answered, and tonight I received this treasure.

Headstone - St Mary's Church, Diss (N.Battley)

The inscription, now rather faded and worn in places, reads:

In memory of Timothy Lait, 
who died July 24th 1809, 
aged 66 years, 
also Elizabeth his wife, 
who died October 28th 1787, 
aged 46 years, 
also of William their son, 
who died February 19th 1797, 
aged 29 years. 

I have visited the town previously, but I did not have sufficient time available to explore the site on that occasion. Thankfully, a kind soul called Nigel Battley has now answered my request, and posted the above photograph on the website.

St Mary's Church, Diss, Norfolk (Diocese)

Researching your family history can at times be difficult, particularly if there is the small obstacle of distance between yourself and your area of interest. But I think this goes to show that thanks to the kindness of strangers and the power of the Internet, there is always hope that you will eventually find what you're looking for.   

Saturday, 1 April 2017


As part of my ongoing task to ‘sort out the garage’, I went through some papers I’d put away in storage for archiving, and found a few of my old school books buried away within them. I’d pretty much forgotten that I had documents, as they were from the very first school I attended which was Upper Park Street school in Toxteth, Liverpool.

Nestled within the neatly laid out rows of terraced housing around Devenport and Upper Park Streets in what is known locally as Liverpool 8, the original school building had been built in 1878 and then extended in 1885. My time there comes a bit later however, and I attended between 1960 and 1965 - just prior to my family moving out to the leafy suburbs of Childwall, where we have lived ever since.  

School building - (UPSSFB)
There were two sections to the school - infants and juniors - and I went to both of them when I was little. The external view of the building above brings back memories of the external metal stairways, used to access some of the classrooms. Also the gate - being taunted by my mates when my aunt insisted on giving me a kiss when she dropped me off at school. We also piled out of this regularly during the summer, all climbing aboard a fabulous green and cream double-decker bus to take us to the playing fields at Jericho Lane in Otterspool to play football.   

School classroom (UPSSFB)
The photograph above also brings memories of the school right back to me. The days were filled with a mixture of learning and play - the teacher splitting us up into groups to play board games, work on specific learning tasks or do ‘proper’ schoolwork - which is where my schoolbooks come into the story.
Outside cover - (c) G Seaman
The book above is different to the other two I also have, as the original cover of this one is intact. It has been signed on the outside by the teacher and as can be seen by the photograph below, someone has written the date of the book on the interior ‘Nov 62’. There is also a handwritten note within it from me requesting 6d to pay for a Puppet show later in the week!

Internal cover and note (c) G Seaman

School coursework (c) G Seaman

As can be seen in the photograph above, the rest of the book contains a mixture of drawings which I’ve coloured in, and also word exercises which the class completed, copying the teachers as they wrote the words up on the blackboards.

The other two books contain a seemingly random selection of stories and diary entries I have recorded into the pages over a period of time. The above photograph shows my grand-daughter Paige - now 7 years old - reading the words I wrote down 55 years ago, when I was almost the same age as she is now.

After she’d finished, Paige made a number of constructive comments about my writing skills which caused quite a lot of hilarity at the time, but can be summarised into the undermentioned points as follows:

1) “Your writing is SO BIG Grampy! If you made your letters smaller you could fit more onto the page!”

2) “What does …’ Won dey dey wend…’ mean?” (translation = One Day They Went....)

3) “I can’t understand this! It makes no sense!”

Reading the books now I know exactly what she meant, but I still love the fact that the two of us are able to discuss them in the first place! 

Memories of my very first school, now long since gone.

All I can say is thanks to my Mum and Dad for keeping them safe.


Tuesday, 21 March 2017


One of the more unusual occupations I have come across while researching my family history has to be that of ‘horse cook’ (see below).

Birth certificate details - Joseph SEAMAN (1903)

When I first saw this occupation written on the birth certificate of my grandfather Joseph SEAMAN, I must say that I was a bit surprised, and at first drew the wrong conclusions as to what the job could possibly be. After all, I’m well aware that in certain countries it is perfectly acceptable for horse meat to be cooked and eaten, and I was not really surprised to find it is considered a delicacy in countries like Italy, China and Iceland. However, as far as I knew, even back in 1903 this notion had not as yet extended to these shores - the recent furore in the U.K. about unscrupulous meat processor’s adding horsemeat to burgers, being a prime example of this. With this in mind I took a breath, settled down with a mug of tea, and began to consider what the job could actually consist of.

Joseph Frederick SEAMAN

The description ‘horse cook’ was reportedly the occupation of my great-grandfather Joseph Frederick SEAMAN in Liverpool, England in 1903. He was 25 years old at the time of his son’s birth, and I had discovered evidence that he had been working previously as a carter on several occasions since the year 1900. At the time, the carting profession was one of the most important jobs in Liverpool to have.

Landing Stage, Pier Head, Liverpool

In this modern age where the car rules the roadways, it is perhaps difficult to imagine that this was a period prior to petrol driven transport being commonly available, and at its peak there were around 250,000 horses working in the city, shifting everything from freight to people around the cobbled streets. This might seem a staggering number when considered today, but in 1903 Liverpool was still acknowledged to be the second city of the British Isles next to London, and the amount of passengers and freight which passed through its many docks was huge indeed. Each of these items needed to be moved as quickly as possible either into the city, or away from it onto the ships. With this in mind it is certainly not so difficult to understand just why so much horsepower was needed to help shift these goods from site to site. 

Stables - Cains Brewery, Grafton Street, Liverpool - (c. PolkaDot Pink)

In the early twentieth century therefore, almost every neighbourhood in Liverpool would have had stable buildings situated within it. Such buildings would be used by private companies - breweries, coal merchants, and also individual horse owners - to house their animals between their periods of work. Stable-masters, and the men and women who worked with them, tended to the needs of the horses twenty-four hours a day. 
There is no doubt in my mind that it was in one of these stable blocks that my great-grandfather Joseph worked to help prepare the food for the horses, making sure that the animals received the sustenance they would need to help them through a long day’s work on the roads of this great city.

And so, after completing my research and considering all the evidence I’ve found, I think we can safely assume that Joseph was not cooking horses for a living. Indeed the occupation of ‘horse cook’ does not now seem so unusual at all!

#seamanfamilyhistory #josephfrederickseaman #familyhistory #cainsbrewery   

Text Sources:

Cains Stable's photo: 

Donna @ PolkaDot (


Saturday, 18 March 2017


Handmade Heirloom in the garage...

I was tidying the garage today and came across this family heirloom on a shelf... a small children's stool/step which my aunt told me my Norwegian great-grandfather, Peder Ingebretsen, had made by hand around 1930. 

Peder was a mariner, and later on could be found working for the Blue Funnel line out of Liverpool, sailing as an able seaman on merchant ships taking goods and passengers up the Amazon to Manaus in Brazil. His occupation on his naturalisation papers gave his occupation as a ship's carpenter.

My gran used to use it to step on to reach the higher shelves in the pantry, and the children used it to sit on while they played. 

I know it's just a few battered pieces of wood, but the story behind it is worth much more to me than money could buy. I just hope that my own kids remember this tale, and how much this family treasure meant to me when I'm not here anymore and they're helping to clear out the garage! 

#familyhistory #genealogy #familyheirloom