"Hey Gordon! I didn't tell you about my trip down Memory Lane last Sunday, did I?"
Oh no. I could pretend that Mum had. But pretty pointless.
"I took my Mum back to see where she lived when she was a young chick! And the house that I was born in! The midwife put me in a drawer."
Was this a mistake? Did she mean to file Mum away with the vests?
"She came on her bike - just like the programme on TV that I told you about. And my Dad was putting up the washing line in the garden when I was hatched."
Was this to hang Mum out on to dry?
"Anyway, we drove all around the roads where I used to rollerskate. You know one day I shot down a slope by the Astoria and narrowly missed a man going past riding his scooter. The only way I kept upright was to hang on to the back of his pillion and he sped me along the road until I was going so fast that there were sparks coming off my skates. I had to let go eventually of course."
Of course.
"We went to see Pop's Bootmakers Shop in Station Road. But it is a Tattoo Parlour and Body Piercing Shop now. Wonder what Pop would have thought of that? Pop was my Mum's Dad, Gordon. He was born in 1894. He's not alive now, of course."
Of course not.
"And opposite used to be 'The Cabin'. It was a little red wooden shed with an opening at the front and a door at the side. Pop often used to sit in here during the day after he retired and helped the old chap who owned it. There was just about room to squeeze two chairs inside. Pop called it a "Sweet Stuff Shop". It sold four Black Jacks or Fruit Salad chews for a penny. You had to buy at least two which cost a halfpenny - although you did have farthings - but they were so small and fiddly. It was always busy, especially after school when children would eagerly fish a few pennies from the depths of their pockets and queue up to select a small and precious assortment of different sweets which were carefully placed in a small white paper bag and eaten with relish on their journey home. I came past on my way home from school every day and Pop would smuggle me in the side door. 'Come on in, Peachey' he would say. It was standing room only or I shuffled onto a small portion of Pop's chair and he would sneak me a sweet or two from the jars. It felt very important to be on the inside of The Cabin.
There was always a newspaper tucked under the counter - well studied and creased firmly down at the back page and Pop would give me some money to put on the horses for him and his old pal at the Bookies opposite.
Oh no. I could pretend that Mum had. But pretty pointless.
"I took my Mum back to see where she lived when she was a young chick! And the house that I was born in! The midwife put me in a drawer."
Was this a mistake? Did she mean to file Mum away with the vests?
"She came on her bike - just like the programme on TV that I told you about. And my Dad was putting up the washing line in the garden when I was hatched."
Was this to hang Mum out on to dry?
"Anyway, we drove all around the roads where I used to rollerskate. You know one day I shot down a slope by the Astoria and narrowly missed a man going past riding his scooter. The only way I kept upright was to hang on to the back of his pillion and he sped me along the road until I was going so fast that there were sparks coming off my skates. I had to let go eventually of course."
Of course.
"We went to see Pop's Bootmakers Shop in Station Road. But it is a Tattoo Parlour and Body Piercing Shop now. Wonder what Pop would have thought of that? Pop was my Mum's Dad, Gordon. He was born in 1894. He's not alive now, of course."
Of course not.
"And opposite used to be 'The Cabin'. It was a little red wooden shed with an opening at the front and a door at the side. Pop often used to sit in here during the day after he retired and helped the old chap who owned it. There was just about room to squeeze two chairs inside. Pop called it a "Sweet Stuff Shop". It sold four Black Jacks or Fruit Salad chews for a penny. You had to buy at least two which cost a halfpenny - although you did have farthings - but they were so small and fiddly. It was always busy, especially after school when children would eagerly fish a few pennies from the depths of their pockets and queue up to select a small and precious assortment of different sweets which were carefully placed in a small white paper bag and eaten with relish on their journey home. I came past on my way home from school every day and Pop would smuggle me in the side door. 'Come on in, Peachey' he would say. It was standing room only or I shuffled onto a small portion of Pop's chair and he would sneak me a sweet or two from the jars. It felt very important to be on the inside of The Cabin.
There was always a newspaper tucked under the counter - well studied and creased firmly down at the back page and Pop would give me some money to put on the horses for him and his old pal at the Bookies opposite.
Nanny - that's my Mum's Mum - didn't know about these cloistered affairs. Less still that Pop sent me over the road to put the bets on when I was a mere chick myself. She would have been very cross with him. But the Bookie and Pop waved knowingly across the road and all was well. And when Willy Carson was riding for Dick Hern, Pop always put a bet on - and he was rarely let down.
I had a sherbet dib-dab for my efforts and reluctantly kissed Pop goodbye and made my way home for tea, later passing Nanny's house and waving as she moved the net curtain back. Well I knew The Cabin wouldn't still be there Gordon, but the concrete wall that supported the back of it, nestled in the bank of the railway bridge, was there. Look!"
I duly studied the lump of concrete that had transported Mum back into her childhood and such vivid and happy memories. I don't expect anyone who lives there today rushing for their train to commute each morning to The Big City would have any idea what secrets that lump of concrete holds. Gordon xxx
I had a sherbet dib-dab for my efforts and reluctantly kissed Pop goodbye and made my way home for tea, later passing Nanny's house and waving as she moved the net curtain back. Well I knew The Cabin wouldn't still be there Gordon, but the concrete wall that supported the back of it, nestled in the bank of the railway bridge, was there. Look!"
I duly studied the lump of concrete that had transported Mum back into her childhood and such vivid and happy memories. I don't expect anyone who lives there today rushing for their train to commute each morning to The Big City would have any idea what secrets that lump of concrete holds. Gordon xxx