Reuniting in Liverpool

Posted on: 9 December 2024 in 2024

Sam Ramsay Smith (MBChB 1971) shares an insight into the 50-Year Anniversary Reunion of his cohort. He reflects on the evening, and how the city has changed in the intervening years.

Venta Don Candido

It was 0330h in the morning and I had just driven the 135 kilometres from Malaga airport after an electric four days in England. I was safely home after a brief but stimulating voyage back to my old country.

The impetus had been the 10-yearly reunion of my class who graduated from Liverpool Medical School in 1971, delayed by the Covid pandemic, and arrangements had been continuing for over a year.

Arriving in London

The tall, terraced house in which Ian and Ann live has been my London refuge ever since 1985, but Ian and I go back another 20 years to when we started at Liverpool Medical School in 1965. He remains my oldest medical friend, so it was a delight to embrace him and Ann and sit down by the side of the old red AGA to enjoy a pot of tea and catch-up.

Another of the joys of being with Ian and Ann again is the welcome dinner which Ian invariably prepares, as often as not from within one of his several barbecues. Ann was trying a new recipe, roasting courgettes with feta cheese. It was a good meal and a warm welcome to England.

The knowledge of a warm embrace, a hot cup of tea and some decent roast meat is highly significant. Ian has never disappointed, and that means a great deal to me. Ann, also an ex-anaesthetist, is always stalwart by his side. Even though I am a committed bachelor and voyageur, I take great comfort from these long-standing relationships between my old friends and am always the beneficiary.

Ian and Ann took me up to town for a dose of “Serious Culture”. We surfaced at Tottenham Court Road and were soon treading the streets of Bloomsbury towards Great Russell Street. This was a part of London I had got to know well during my time at the Wellcome Tropical Institute, but I had forgotten how magnificent and austere so many of the buildings were. It was easy to feel a sense of empire and great power in the shadow of these megaliths.

Very soon we were climbing the steps of the British Museum, the most magnificent of all the buildings we had passed, where we spent an illuminating two hours studying the marvels of the Chinese Silk Road exhibition.

Afterwards it was a pleasure to sit at a table in the museum café with a cup of tea, watching humanity walk by. It really was the world on the go, and everyone, old and young from every corner of the world enjoying this important part of Chinese history in total harmony. It was reassuring to see that it was possible for every human to live and work together and so enjoy life.

Euston to Liverpool

The following day we set out for Euston station and the 1140h Aviva train to Liverpool.

Never in my life have I travelled by first class, legally. But today was another first, for that is the way Ian and Ann travel, and a fair few other medics from our year apparently, for halfway up the escalator to the first class lounge a voice behind me said, “would that be Sam?”, and I turned to find Stuart Dombey and Andy Gale and their wives ascending. Then came Cosmo Hallstrom, and Cynthia.

We were a jolly crew, only mildly disappointed when the 1140h train was cancelled. This is now a daily occurrence which British Rail travellers face. The 1240h train left on time and soon we were speeding through Milton Keynes, heading north as I enjoyed my free gin and tonic.

As we sped past the Runcorn bridge, looking down into the murky waters of the River Mersey, I suddenly flashed back 60 years to the first time I had crossed this great grey bridge. In September 1965 after a year under a brilliant African sun, enjoying the myriad and brilliant colours of tropical Africa, that moment had been a severe shock as I surveyed the miles of grey factories and townships under a leaden sky. But today the sun was shining overhead as we approached Liverpool city centre.

As I stepped onto the platform in Lime Street station, I suddenly had an electric thought. It was exactly 59 years to the day when I had first ever set foot in this station, fresh from a year in Africa and about to start my medical studies. This was an epic moment.

The four of us took a taxi to the Hope Street Hotel, and then headed for the Philharmonic pub. There was already a good smattering of old doctors and their partners sitting behind pints of beer. It was a wonderful moment, and hilarious to think that here we all were, doing exactly what we were doing 60 years ago – drinking at the Phil. Even Alex arrived with Maureen, and that was another joyous reunion in the flesh after our years of meeting on WhatsApp.

The men’s bathroom was as impressive as ever. All built in marble, it has become a national tourist attraction. The old leather seats in the lounges are also still extremely comfortable and provide a panoramic view of the highly decorated ceilings and chandeliers.

As I sat enjoying the happy ambiance I noticed a strange thing. Of course, every one of us had changed physically over the years, most notably the face. That was inarguable. But what I realised had not changed were the voices, the postures and deportment and the sense of humour of my comrades. I thought that was interesting. To me it was as though the body may decay but the spirit lives on.

All in all, it was a perfect homecoming to my alma mater. A group of us decided to dilute our beery intake with a curry. One could say, “How very predictable!”, and you would not be wrong. Back in the swinging 60s a fiery rat curry was de rigeur after drinking.

The Spice Bloom, just up Myrtle Street and a quick stagger from the Hope St Hotel, was revolutionary. It had only been open for three months and was a delight to enter. It was a very spacious restaurant, set on two floors, and was one of the most colourful I have ever been inside. Soon around 12 of us were seated behind large glasses of Cobra beer at two tables groaning with poppadom’s, nan breads and dishes of every curry imaginable.

We were all having a splendid time reliving our past. We were even serenaded by Pete Lavelle singing “In my Liverpool home” as we ate, exactly as so often had happened in times past.

The following morning there was another joyous reunion in the breakfast salon, as we sat over our full English breakfasts, cooked in front of our eyes.

Amazingly, it was another blue-sky day, with white clouds bobbing over the Catholic cathedral making a pretty picture as I descended Bold Street, passing St Luke’s, the roofless, bombed out church, now growing a jungle of plants within its walls. I was on my way to the Pier Head to take a photo of the statue of the Beatles.

As my legs were now playing up, I was pleased to find a taxi rank and jumped into the first taxi. Jason, the driver was a real Scouser with the accent to go with his sense of humour. He was impressed when I told him I had played in the original Cavern Club, and he also knew all about the Wookey Hollow night club, where I almost became famous in 1972.

“Of course, I’ll take you to The Beatles statue”, he said, and then we were off towards the Pier Head and the building which has always been an icon of British maritime power and influence.

When we arrived, Jason called out “let me take one of you!” and bounded out of his taxi. Jason started taking photos of me, looking like that 5th Beatle, while the tourists were wondering whether to include me or not. It was a triumphant moment, and I am grateful to Jason for the photos he took.

Fiesta at The Hope

The evening fiesta began with glasses of fizz in the big function room on the fifth floor, from which there were magnificent views of the Liverpool skyline, under a clear blue sky. Averil was there, surrounded by her many acolytes. So was Professor Hazel Scott, the current Dean of the Medical School, who was to be my personal guest, plus around 60 medics and their partners.

The Dean sat next to me at the table, and I asked her how she would like to be called, to which she replied, Hazel. I laughed when I thought of what Dr Jack Leggate would have replied in 1965, for it would certainly not have been ‘Jack’. He was one of the old school, an ex-missionary and a man of impeccable character, respected by us all, and treated with some reverence. At that time, the idea of a lady Dean would have been unthinkable. How wonderful can be those winds of change.

When we were all seated comfortably, I said to Hazel, “I want to ask you a serious question. Please wait for half a minute before you answer”, and she agreed. “After seven years as Dean, what today is your single greatest problem?”, I asked her. After a short pause, she answered, “It is managing the daily concerns of so many students”, she replied. “Most of them are related to financial problems”. And that got me thinking.

The rest of the evening passed in a bit of a blur as there was so much going on. After Averil’s exceptionally good speech the entertainment began. I sang a couple of songs, including “The One-Eyed Trouser Snake”, which always goes down well. Then came the medics song and others. All the while a loop of photos of our student days was scrolling on a big screen, something that Greg Richardson had fixed up.

It turned out that one of our cheerful bartenders, Rosie, was a second-year medical student in her spare time, and I joyously dedicated one of my songs to her and had everyone clapping for her. I’d like to know what she thought of all of us geriatric doctors and our childish antics.

The next morning as I stood in the hotel foyer waiting for our taxi, Averil arrived with a young girl in tow. “This is Catherine, my granddaughter. She is a second year student”.

“Do you know Rosie?” I asked Catherine after our introductory embrace. It was then that she explained to me that her class had 320 members, something I had not appreciated. My own class had just over 100 members, and I reckon I still only know about half of them.

Well, what a delight to have met not one, but two aspiring young medical students.

Heading home

Not only was there an 1140h train, but it left on time.

Then we were in Euston station again, heading for the Victoria line south. I parted company with Ian and Ann at Victoria, and I was sad to say goodbye to these two old friends with whom I had so happily shared the last four days. But I am sure we shall meet again – and there is always WhatsApp meanwhile.

Conclusion

It has been a most enlightening and encouraging voyage of discovery. If I had to take just one memory from this unique occasion, it would be the unmeasurable sense of good fellowship amongst all 60 of us which our early years of excellent education had made possible.

I hope that this will inspire a new generation of medical students to reunite as the years go by.