Bernie - a Life:
Bernard,
or
Bernie
as
he
is
more
commonly
known,
was
born
at
home
on
Kings
Drive
in
Woolton,
on
the
unexpectedly
snowy
day
of
23rd
April
1945.
It
wasn’t
long
before
he
showed
a
talent
for
performance
and
for
making
people
laugh.
At
a
Sunday
school
concert
at
St
Peters
Church
Hall
in
Woolton,
he
performed
the
song
I
Had
a
Little
Pony
dressed
in
hunting
clothes
with
a
tiny
riding
crop.
Later
Bernard
and
his
brother
Rod
were
the
only
two
boys
in
their
classes
at
the
Vernon
Johnson
School
of
Dance,
where
they
learned
tap
dancing
and
ballet.
Shows
were
held
at
the
Crane
Theatre
in
Liverpool
city
centre
where
the
brothers
played
teddies
in
a
Teddy
Bears
Picnic
number
and
Bernard
was
a
duck.
Bernard
was
a
thoughtful
big
brother,
promising
his
sister
Rosemary
on
the
day
she
was
born
that
he
would
teach
her
to
climb
the
pear
tree
in
the
back
garden.
And,
years
later,
he
did.
One
cherished
memory
is
of
playing
‘dance
school’
on
a
rainy
afternoon
-
Bernard
as
the
Dancing
Master
with
a
strong
French
accent
and
a
swishy
cape,
shouting
‘Encore!
Encore!’ while stroking an imaginary large moustache.
Bernard
grew
up
in
a
musical
household.
His
dad
Jim
played
violin,
sometimes
accompanied
by
his
younger
son
on
guitar.
Bernard’s
Mum,
Nora,
was
an
enthusiastic
member
of
the
Woolton
Follies.
At
family
parties,
everyone
was
expected
to
perform
a
turn.
One
New
Year,
when
Bernard
was
about
12,
he
dressed
up
in
an
old
blanket
for
a
kilt
and
performed
The
White
Heather
Club
and
The
Highland
Fling
in
a
ridiculous
Scottish
accent
-
his
natural
sense
of
the
absurd
and
fantastic
comic
timing
shining
through.
Rosemary
remembers
everyone
crying
with
laughter
until
they
begged
him
to
stop.
Old
friends
may
recall
a
later
incarnation
of
this
party
piece,
in
which
Bernard
performed
William
McGonagall’s
apparently
never-ending
poem
The
Tay Bridge Disaster wearing a red tartan blanket.
As
a
boy,
Bernard
had
many
passions.
He
loved
horses
and
spent
every
spare
second
at
Jim
Blundell’s
stables
in
Gateacre
-
and
many
decades
later
looked
on
proudly
as
his
grandson
Archie
rode
for
the
first
time.
With
his
brother
Rod
he
built
model
aeroplanes
from
Keil
Kraft
kits
and
larger
versions
from
wooden
planks
balanced
on
paint
pots
in
the
back
garden.
As
a
teenager he took up cycling and cross country running. But it was music that endured throughout his life.
With
ill-fated
piano
lessons
behind
them,
the
two
brothers
badgered
their
parents
to
buy
them
a
guitar
or
banjo.
They
ended
up
with
the
latter,
a
pre-war
Windsor
Whirle
five-string
that
had
belonged
to
the
brother-in-law
of
their
Uncle
George
in
Wales.
George
Davies
played
fiddle
and
musical
saw
-
the
very
musical
saw
that
Bernard
would
himself
later
play
in
folk
clubs,
at
music
festivals
across
the world and during his daughters’ weddings.
After
leaving
Quarry
Bank
School
in
1963,
Bernard
completed
a
Teacher
Training
Certificate
at
St
Luke’s
College
in
Exeter,
where
he
became
a
familiar
face
at
the
local
folk
clubs.
But
it
was
at
another
folk
club
back
home
in
Liverpool
when
he
met
his
wife
Vera.
Initially
attracted
to
his
speaking
voice,
which
she
overheard
in
the
Green
Moose
café,
she
first
saw
him
performing
at
the
Folk
at
the
Inferno
at
the
Lamb
Hotel
where
he
was
a
member
of
the
resident
band,
The
Phoenix.
Bernard
was
playing
mandolin
and
wearing
a
pith helmet.
They
began
their
nearly
44-year
marriage
in
March
1977
when
they
were
married
at
St
Peter’s
Church
in
Woolton.
The
zany,
creative
qualities
that
Vera
loved
about
Bernard
were
matched
with
a
dependability
and
kindness
that would make her and their two daughters always feel secure.
Happy
memories
from
the
girls’
childhood
include
Sunday
trips
to
the
Irish
Centre
on
Mount
Pleasant,
where
they
would
take
fiddle
lessons
while
‘Dad’
had
a
pint
of
Guinness
and
a
music
session
in
the
bar.
Then
there
were
the
family
holidays
to
Wales
and
later
France,
pulling
a
four-berth
caravan
hundreds
of
miles
for
two
weeks
of
sunshine,
baguettes
and
outdoor
swimming,
long
walks
and
cheap
red
wine.
Bernard
would
always
put
his
family
first.
If
it
poured
down
while
the
tent
needed
pitching
he
would
do
it
solo
while
the
others
sheltered
in
the
car.
Once
the
car
broke
down
during
the
journey
to
the
ferry
so
he
pulled
over
and
put
down
the
caravan’s
legs.
They
were
all
inside
it,
drinking
tea
and
playing
Knock
Out
Whist,
when
the
AA man arrived.
Family
photos
show
years
of
fun
-
the
girls
initchy
balaclavas
clinging
to
the
triangulationpillars
at
the
top
of
a
snowy
Ben
Nevis;
Bernard
playingmelodeon
as
his
daughters
climbed
the
stairs
on
Christmas
Eve
holding
candlesticks
and
stockings;
Bernard
and
Vera
smiling
on
a
balcony
in
Parga
where
they
enjoyed
many
holidays
with
Irene
and
Brian,
Curly
Pete,
and
Margaret
and
Roy;
Bernard
grinning
at
the
helm
of
his
sailing
boat
on
the
River
Dee;
and
a
happy
‘
Grandpa’
cuddling
each
newly-born grandchild.
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