Adrienne and I met when we were about ten or eleven, while working as willing, unpaid slaves at our local stables. This came to an end following an unfortunate incident which resulted in Adrienne taking a dip in the water trough. We were subsequently banished and walked the streets, dejected. Too much horseplay. From that moment our plan was discussed at length and launched: we were going to buy a pony.
Saving every penny of pocket/Christmas and birthday money, and in the face of both sets of parents absolutely forbidding us to do so, at the ages of 13/14ish, we bought our beloved pony – Pampa.
He cost about £30 – delivered in the back of a Bedford van to a friend’s house – her parents had kindly agreed to let him live in their back garden until we found more suitable accommodation. This proved to be incredibly difficult, there were very few fields available in Liverpool and for many weeks before and after Pampa arrived we walked for miles trying to identify ‘ponyable’ fields, then knocking on doors asking if we can rent them. We eventually found one, on a farm in Hale and we relocated Pampa – not before time as the friend’s neighbours had really had enough on account of him failing to confine himself to just the one garden.
I remember the time Adrienne’s mum, Rose, gave her an old bag and instructions to fill it with pony dung for her garden. She complied and was of course teased mercilessly (by me) for carrying around this bag – particularly on the two bus journeys home from the farm. She was probably quite fed up when she got home and her dad asked her what she had in the bag. He got a one word answer, and was not amused.
We spent many happy hours at the farm, we were always short of money of course – having a pony to support. Everything was done on a shoestring and Pampa never had a pair (or two) of shoes to his name, nor a saddle or bridle – we somehow made a makeshift bridle and always rode him bareback, unless we could borrow a saddle. I remember us hanging out in the barn and we somehow cobbled together a Ouija board. Our friend Gill had become an honorary third owner of Pampa by then and we sat around asking the Ouija board for the names of our future husbands. Adrienne was apparently destined to marry Stuart something or other (sorry Jack – the board got it wrong, OK?). My husband was to be Richard something (I’m still waiting for you, Richard, if you’re out there somewhere). Gill was to marry a Jewish vet – things had become a bit silly by then and we abandoned the project.
Our teenage years progressed and we came to realise there was more to life than ponies. I remember when we heard that Bob Dylan was to play at the Liverpool Empire (I think it was the Empire – 1964ish). Anyway, we each asked our respective parents for the money to buy tickets. I think they cost about 39/11 (no, I don’t know what that amounts to now), and it gave our parents a good laugh at being asked for such a large sum – needless to say, there were no tickets for us – and no kudos for being able to say: ‘we were there’.
We started going to the Cavern around 1965, but only on condition we were home by 10.30pm.
We also went to dances in Woolton village. Well, we thought we were dead cool.
I remember the time Adrienne’s parents, Rose and Kevin, went away on holiday and I went to stay with her for the week. Adrienne’s Nan also moved in, to ‘babysit’ us. During that week we had a date and were desperate to go and meet these guys. Nan was equally desperate not to let us go. Oh the lies and subterfuge we had to resort to. We eventually got out of the house and off we went. After all that, the scumbags didn’t even turn up. All part of the pain of teenage years.
We didn’t stay in touch in later years, but Adrienne was often in my thoughts. Rest well my old friend, you’re not forgotten. Gayex