While I was working for Lee and Nightingale, another big change happened in my life: George and I were married at St Cecilia’s Church on 14 March 1959. Even before I had come to terms with married life, I found I was pregnant.
For the first part of the marriage we lived in a bedsitter, but with a baby being due we had to find a better place to live. I would have to stop working and this would restrict us financially. The house next door to my mam’s in Pringle Street was for sale at four hundred and fifty pounds. We decided to try to buy it.
It is only fairly recently that the mysteries of house purchase have been opened up to the public. Most people in Tuebrook, and Soho Street where George lived, would not have imagined owning a house. But, using the old Chrissie principle that we had nothing to lose, and we needed somewhere to live, I decided to go and see the bank manager. I trekked down into the city centre, to a huge intimidating building in Water Street, and saw him.
By now, I was an old hand at seemingly pointless interviews. So as usual, I told the manager exactly what the situation was: that we needed a house, but that I’d only be working for the next six months and then I’d be leaving to have a baby. I was quite shocked by how reasonable he was about it. He asked about George’s job (which was in engineering), took the details and then gave a Dickensian lecture: ‘One pound income, 19 shillings and sixpence expenditure,(97 and a half pence) result, happiness. One pound income, one pound and sixpence expenditure, result, misery.’
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