London In The Sixties

This is small pictorial history of our first years in London in the sixties.
I started work in the Gresham Hotel in Dublin around 1963, the year JFK was killed in Dallas. While there I became friends with a fellow commis chef called Barry Gormley. At the time we met and became friends we were very disillusioned with life in Dublin and we eventually talked ourselves and each other into leaving and going to work in London. We were both the same age and we seemed to get on well. I already had a friend working in London who I knew from Jervis St. Hospital so that made it easier for us.
Final plans were made and after about a month or so of preparation and trepidation we were ready to head out across the Irish Sea. Even after all the plans were made we still wondered if we would go through with it and really leave home when the time came. We swore we would go up on deck as the ship pulled out of the harbour just to see how we felt. We did just that and declared ourselves happy with the wisdom of our decision to leave. 
Dad left us to the train station and kept warning me about IRA secret clubs and the like, final words of advice from father to son. We shook hands stiffly and said goodbye. Dad did not go away, he didn't leave the station. He stayed there and looked through the window shifting he weight from one foot to the other with an awkward smile on his face. He was dressed in his work suit with The Irish Times sticking our of his pocket. This was all very embarrassing for a young man about to seek his fortune in far off lands. When I think of this moment of Dad looking through the window and my reaction I am once again reminded of the Mark Twain quote about ' the old man'. I think that my extreme youth prevented me from seeing that he wanted to see us right to the end. We will never know but he may have had that feeling of emptiness and the tear in his eye as he saw his eldest son leave home for good. These are the events that , in retrospect , teach youth about life. The sudden , years later , realization that in all our youthful enthusiasm we were unable to understand the feelings of others. 
After what seemed like an eternity the train started to chug our of the station and we were on our way to great adventures.
At this time of life and with all the excitement we forgot the feelings of others. I know Mam was very upset when I left and Dad, I am sure , in his own was was sad. We know better today. It only took a few decades and a few knocks out of life.
We transferred from the train to the ship and finally left the old sod. On the way out we kept true to our promise and went up on deck to see Ireland passing in the distance to see how we felt. We felt fine.
I had already secured a job in the Savoy Hotel in London before we left and when we got to London Barry found himself a job in The Grosvenor House on Park Lane. This was also one of the premiere hotels in London and it still is.
We settled into London life and it was all very exciting to see all the sights. We had no money to speak of so we didn't get out much. We worked long hours and I think I got about two pounds ten a week. Most of our money went on rent and food but we were happy to be in a new country with what seemed like more opportunities.
Eventually we moved into better digs and we did quite well. We were both going out with twin sisters Gillian and Lynette Peppler and these are the girls you will see in the photos. We and the girls all lived in the same house in separate flats. We lived in Finsbury Park and this is where these photos were taken. Terry arrived after a year or so and so did Gerard Twyford and Phyllis.
I left the Savoy eventually and went to work in a small hotel for a while. Barry left his hotel and went into teaching. He had never been happy in the hotel industry and may have been the wiser of the two of us.
We went our separate ways after a few years and I didn't hear from Barry again. When I left London he was still with Gillian, the fair haired girl in the photo, and they were pretty much settled. I was off to greener pastures and great adventures. I left  England to travel for many a year.
I always wondered what happened to Barry. Our friendship was a big part of life for both of us and I was curious as to his whereabouts and wondered what had happened to the girls. I had tried to find him through the Internet but to no avail.
Then, a couple of weeks ago I got an email from him. He had seen the post of the Gresham Hotel Menu on the blog and contacted me. It was nice to hear from him.
It is most appropriate that the soundtrack for this little clip should be of The Beatles. Our lives were measured by the release of of each Beatles album. It was the swinging sixties in London and the air was electric with music and flowers and love. Even though I could not afford the life style at that time I went down to Carnaby Street and bought and overcoat and a pair of shoes. The shoes were shiny and had  buckles on them and the overcoat had one of those Edwardian collars and was double breasted. Thankfully none of the photos of that gear survived.