Tales of Gypsies and Travellers from Merseyside-based Traveller Alexander J Thompson

Janet Tansley talks to the Merseyside man behind a new book about the travelling community

IT was the television series we couldn’t stop talking about that lifted the lid of on the lives of the travelling community.

My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, which returns to our screens tomorrow for a festive special, introduced us to the extravagant traditions and rituals of an often maligned section of society.

Now Merseyside-based traveller Alexander J Thompson has decided to tell his own tales of Gypsy life in a new book. A feat made even more remarkable by the fact the 56-year-old admits he finds it difficult to read or write.

“I knew I had a story to tell, I just wasn’t sure how to explain it,” he says. “But as with anything else, I will always find a way.

“Several years ago it struck me that the comical and awkward situations which I, and my fellow Travellers, find ourselves in would make interesting and amusing reading. Shortly afterwards, we were approached by the TV people at Channel 4 who wanted to make the programme My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding.

“Encouraged by seeing my children and grandchildren in the series, and the programme’s popularity, I decided to write the book.”

That book is Gypsy and Travellers Tales, a collection of stories as recounted to ghostwriter author James Devere.

“I couldn’t really read it,” admits Alexander. “But it was wonderful to finally see the book that I had written.”
Alexander spent much of his time in Liverpool after setting sail from Ireland in the 60s, mainly based in the official Travellers’ camp in city centre Oil Street.

He recalls: “I have travelled a lot. I have been to many places and I have seen some amazing things. Some of my earliest memories are of listening to the old tales of Ireland, how life was then and how things have changed.

“At the time I was stuck on a camp with caravans parked up any old way, on an old croft where houses had stood before being demolished.

“Our camp was in a vast open area...our caravans were mainly old but clean. Outside, the odd broken-down truck and scrap cars could be found lying around alongside an open fire and a black pot full of food was simmering away, while we youngsters played in the puddles, covered in dirt and freezing cold.

“I daydreamed that when I was older and it was my turn to go out in one of the trucks with the adults looking for scrap iron, or being on the hand roller doing a Tarmac job for my father, I would be in no rush to return.

“The children were free labour for the fathers when times were hard but, as a rule, you got ten bob for your efforts, which was fantastic.

“I was driving around the camps at the age of 12 or 13 and bought my first truck when I was 15, a BMC five tonner for £45.”