MEMORIES OF MARY (By Mike McCartney)
Since Mum’s death I’ve somehow stored most of her memories in a private, sealed box in my heart, but every now and then the lid flies open and beautiful pictures come pouring out…
Pictures… of helping in the kitchen by slowly stirring cake mixture in a giant bowl with a wooden spoon - fawn coloured outside, white inside - before licking spoon and bowl clean of the sweet dough… of guiding wet clothes through the mangle while Mum turned the two finger-crushing rolling pin mangles.. of her sneaking us first cuts of a hot Sunday joint before serving the main meal onto the plate… of pushing meat down into the mincer and withdrawing little pink fingers, before they, too, became mincemeat…. of waiting, mouth watering, for hot scones from the oven, the waft of hot air in the face when the door finally opened, and the feel of thick melting butter and hot scones in hungry mouths… of playing ships with Paul in the bath, being flanelled, scrubbed, and pumice-stoned when the dirt was deeply ingrained, then lifted out and towel-dried as only Mums (and Dads) can do… of her buttoning our shirts, tying shoe laces, trying tying ties, going to the ‘dreaded’ dentists and Mum buying me a brown lead toy cart horse to take away the pain… of having Vick rubbed on our chests when a cold was attached… of Mum flicking the thermometer professionally (just like a nurse) putting it under my tongue and then taking my wrist-held pulse…. of feeling her concern and love for our illnesses through walls, round corners and upstairs… of swaying to and fro on the Singer sewing machine’s carved steel foot pedal whilst Mum sewed above…. of the smell of small hand-sewn bags filled with Dad’s lavender that nestled amongst shirts and wardrobe clothes hangers… of resting my head in her lap whilst listening to the radio at the end of the day… and finally, pictures of being tucked into freshly aired beds and cuddling down with cold feet touching rubber hot water bottles. (‘I want the orange one.’ ‘No, I want the orange one, you had it last night.’)… of being kissed goodnight on the lips and then, ‘Go(d) bless’ from the door as all but the landing light went out (just in case of bogey men).
Mike McCartney circled himself, his brother, Paul, what could be Neil Aspinall, Ivan ‘Ivy’ Vaughn and George Harrison.
Young Paul (left) and Mike McCartney, taken by their father Jim.
As we can see here, Paul mastered the infamous bitchface very early in life.
Arthur Kelly and George with his “fookin’ turban” (which would later be known as “Arthur”) at George’s brother’s wedding reception. 20 December 1958, 25 Upton Green. Photo by Mike McCartney. (Can someone confirm this?)
“Mum, dressed as a nurse, but looking more like a nun.” -Mike McCartney
Mike McCartney at home in Liverpool. Note the baby picture of him and Paul in the foreground. Undated (1960? 1961?)
I don’t have a date for this, but it looks like Paul and Mike just stacked up all the instruments they had in the house and posed with them. :D
I obviously need Mike’s books.
Hey, look. It’s the piano that Brian’s father had sold to Jim McCartney. :)
Photo by Mike McCartney
The Beatles at The Cavern Club, January 1963. Photos by Mike McCartney.
