Joyce of Whitchurch | Platform 7 17:47 Liverpool Lime Street
JOYCE OF WHITCHURCH
Platform 7 17:47 Liverpool Lime Street
Platform Seven
Lime Street Station
Liverpool Lime Street
Joyce of Whitchurch
Joyce’s hand inching
inexorably to departure
the curious soothing
hum of rocket engines
lying horizontal
a heartbeat of anticipation,
new lives,
a new world departing,
an old world closing.
Platform 7 Lime Street station
Liverpool Lime Street
Joyce of Whitchurch
17:44 and counting,
Joyce inching faster now
to 17:47
Last goodbyes
a brief hug in the doorway
holding back emotions,
happy and sad,
all in the same instant.
“This is the 17:47
Liverpool to London Euston.
Would all not travelling
please leave the train now.
We will close the doors
in 60 seconds.
Those not travelling please leave,
please leave the carriage now.”
Fast exit!
An immaculate guard
stands poised
six of twelve carriages down
wearing the burgundy livery
of Liverpool;
a green pennant
furled within her arm
like an SLR rifle
at ‘order arms’!
Joyce of Whitchurch
inching ever forward
the beat of her hand
not in keeping with my heart.
That ominous sound
a whistle down the ages,
a glimpse of parting couples
beneath Joyce of Whitchurch
sixty years before
as we[1] went to War.
Joyce inching forward
now seconds away.
That whistle again!
The green pennant
unfurled now ...
held high, a sweeping arc
as Virgin roars
to battle speed!
Joyce strikes 17:46:49:01
and counting
17:46...48...49...59:01
Oh GOD!
The pennant flies high
- that infernal pennant –
Go away!
17:47!!
The tears well up...
But thumbs up instead!
Be British
hide emotions
be stoic
be resolute.
A wave from the carriage
thumbs up in return...
A beautiful smile
the delight of José
... and farewell
oh ship of state,
as this beautiful train
glides effortlessly,
revealing pillar after pillar
at increasing intensity,
in Liverpool’s
burgundy livery.
Conceal the tears.
Let others cry
and I’ll hide behind them
as we exit the gateway.
17:50 Joyce of Whitchurch
moving inexorably on
recording emotions
timing arrivals
ordering departures
enforcing timetables.
All at sea
at sixes and sevens.
At peace though
as an Emissary I glimpse,
That quiet look ...
that refrain ...
that hint of understanding ...
in Liverpool Lime Street
on this topsy-turvy
early Sunday evening.
The 17:47 has departed
The track line is empty.
Station immaculate
and in great order.
No litter...
Capital of Culture in spirit
a year on,
this revered title its people
will never relinquish,
why Liverpool stands apart!
“Remember Ken
you’re a lawyer. You’ve got work now.
I was worried that I’d leave you
still unemployed;
but He has stepped in
and we can both rejoice!
Let’s remember the great times;
the meals, the laughs, the tears,
the Colombian and Cuban Girls
It’s not the end
It’s but the beginning.”
Didn’t Churchill say the same?
“This is not the end.
It is not even the beginning
of the end.
But it is perhaps the end
of the beginning!” [i]
A glimpse again of wartime couples
beneath Joyce of Whitchurch
- a different war now though
here on Lime Street Station;
Today
not Yesteryear.
Afghanistan and Helmand Province
hell on earth in Sangin
for a democratic army
arrayed against
medieval demagogues
and outdated irrelevant
spiteful religions
that do no justice
to the God Whom they insist
they represent!
A soldier,
desert khaki-clad,
smartly marches by,
silent recognition ... ...
eyes meeting
and unseen salutes exchanged
that only the Armed Forces
detect in the step;
the bracing of the shoulders
the thirty-inch pace;
a former rank
saluting his modern counterpart
in grateful thanks;
the slight nod of the head,
that impish wink of the eye
of an eighteen-year-old
combatant in reply.
A silent prayer:
Please, please save him
Just keep him safe
and bring him back home
alive and to a hero’s welcome
on Lime Street Station,
not a wheeled Coffin
at Lyneham Station
or solemn procession
through Wootton Bassett.[2]
17:51:05 and a quiet bleep
… a silent text
Joyce of Whitchurch pauses ...
The clock stops ...
... Indeed, a wonderful time
and a great occasion to
support each other
when we most
needed it.
Now we are both moving on
and the future is exciting
Take care, my friend!
Ludovico England
18:34
Lime Street Station
Sunday 5 July 5 2009
L.N.E.R LONDON TO EDINBURGH 1938
Liverpool Lime Street underneath Joyce of Whitchurch Sunday, July 5, 2009. The reader will, of course, by now realize that Joyce of Whitchurch is one of the world-famous clocks at Lime Street Station Liverpool, and the author is delighted to have been given kind permission by the board of directors of Smith of Derby Ltd of 112 Alfreton Road Derby DE21 4AU to re-title this very popular poem Platform 7 17:47 (when it was first published in Idle Thoughts: An Anthology of Poetry and Prose by Spiderwize in September 2009) to “Joyce of Whitchurch” in the second volume Meanderings: An Anthology of Poetry and Prose published by Spiderwize in October 2011 (Hardback). The board has also given me confirmation to reproduce therein the letter by the managing director and which speaks for itself as a very important part of Liverpool and the country’s history. (page 63-64 2011)
26 August 2022
All Rights Reserved
© Kenneth Thomas Webb 2022
Written 5 July 2009
End Notes
[i] Part of Winston Churchill’s famous ‘turn of the tide’ speech at the Mansion House, London, as prime minister on 10 November 1942
[ii] ANNOTATION: A soldier of the 12th Mechanized Brigade Reconnaissance Force (BRF) cautiously crosses a pathway during a patrol in Afghanistan. An airborne operation was launched into an insurgent stronghold in Afghanistan, resulting in a significant find of weapons and bomb-making equipment. The 12th Mechanized Brigade Reconnaissance Force (BRF), made up of soldiers and officers from the Light Dragoons, England’s Northern Cavalry, pushed into the area of Shorokay in the Upper Gereshk Valley as part of Operation Daas (which means Scythe in Dari) searching a complex bunker system. (Author Note: This annotation and the links below are by gracious permission of Pinterest.)
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Photographer: Sergeant Andy Reddy RLC
Image 45154428.jpg from www.defenceimages.mod.uk
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[1] Many who read this will have been those very people; to this day they rightly see themselves as ‘we’ not ‘they’; it is but yesterday
[2] By Proclamation of Her Majesty the Queen, designated for eternity as Royal Wootton Bassett from the 1st September 2011 in recognition of the dignity of the townspeople in receiving every soldier fallen, upon arrival from RAF Lyneham
Ken Webb is a writer and proofreader. His website, kennwebb.com, showcases his work as a writer, blogger and podcaster, resting on his successive careers as a police officer, progressing to a junior lawyer in succession and trusts as a Fellow of the Institute of Legal Executives, a retired officer with the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, and latterly, for three years, the owner and editor of two lifestyle magazines in Liverpool.
He also just handed over a successful two year chairmanship in Gloucestershire with Cheltenham Regency Probus.
Pandemic aside, he spends his time equally between his city, Liverpool, and the county of his birth, Gloucestershire.
In this fast-paced present age, proof-reading is essential. And this skill also occasionally leads to copy-editing writers’ manuscripts for submission to publishers and also student and post graduate dissertations.