Towards Mecca via the Mersey

Closing the door to Alex Taylor`s the undertaker behind me and stepping out onto the pavement, I can`t help but notice the rain has now started again in earnest. I struggle in vain to open my reluctant umbrella, but then spot MacDonalds across the road and decide to make a dash for it.
Sitting there with a relieved bladder and a steaming cup of lousy coffee in front of me, I allow myself to relax and think about what happens next.
My flight is booked. I`ll be returning to Turkey in four days. There are still a few loose ends to tie up, but when they are, I`ll probably leave Birkenhead and never return. Why would I? - I`ve never lived here, learned here, loved here, worked here. It`s just a place I`ve been visiting for the last forty years. My reason for that is now gone. The connection is gone, I suppose, but it doesn`t feel that way and I don`t understand why.
I start thinking about yesterday on the ferry, but it`s too painful - enough time for that later.
I gather up my bag and brolly. Places to go - people to see. I`ll start with the bank. They should have sorted things out by now, surely?
(picture 1) Once outside, my head involuntarily turns left and I look down the vista of the shopping precinct.
I`ve no practical reason for going that way: in fact, the bank`s in the other direction, but it`s where my feet want to go, so I have to follow.
(picture 2)I look in the pound shop window on my left. It lets me know where I am for the moment just in case I`m confused. There`s no mistaking that red cross on a white background. I`ve seen enough of those white crescents on a red background to know the difference!
So many cheap bargains flew with me over the Atlantic and Europe to be given as gifts to unsuspecting in-laws who were so appreciative (Especially when I lied excessively about the price.)
(picture 3)The feet walk into Bon Marche. I look around and remember the countless times I would come in here and stock up on `school clothes` - smart skirts and tops. Female teachers in Turkey are not allowed to wear trousers. I was always amazed at how cheap the clothes were compared to prices in Istanbul. I`d often buy a nightie or a top as a surprise for my mother. Lilac was her favourite colour, but she liked pink, too. She was never effusive with her thanks but I could tell from the softened expression , she was pleased.
(picture 4)On, past Boots where I`d bought the blood pressure machine which everyone took the mickey out of me for here in England, saying I was obsessive about the health of my family. How could they understand that the lack of a National Health System and having to pay for literally everything connected to medical treatment down to a simple cotton wool swab used before an injection, made the purchase a necessity rather than an indulgence?
(picture 4)



Hi Jen
This is where I`m up to, but it`s far from finished! I`m going to include `Ferry across the Mersey`as the prelude and this will be the continuation. I`m getting my knickers in a twist worrying about the 1000 word limit and thus not writing it the way I want. I`m calling it a day for now . Lots to talk about tomorrow!