The Grandparents - Part Two

My maternal Granddad , I do not remember much about as he died from a heart attack when I was quite young. I was told that he passed away on November 5th, although I'm not sure what year it was. All I can remember about Grandad was that he was short for a man and tubby. He always wore a light brown tweed jacket, waistcoat, and brown trousers and brown lace up boots. He also wore a tweed peaked cap. He had a habit of lifting this cap between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand and scratching his head with his little finger.
In later years I would be told stories of how Granddad used to go out to catch rabbits in the fields and woods around Wotton. He and his mates used rabbit wires to catch their prey. This consisted of a wire loop attached to a short piece of spiked wood, this was driven into the ground, outside of a rabbit warren the wire loop encircling the entrance. When the rabbit came out the loop wood catch it around its neck. The more the rabbit struggled the tighter the loop would get, eventually killing the rabbit. There were lots of rabbit pies and stews eaten around Wotton in those days.
My maternal Grandmother, was one of a large family of girls who were all given the names of flowers, my Gran being named Daisy. We all called he 'Carrot' though because of her red hair. Of my grandparents she was my favourite.
Nan was a small woman - about five foot two inches in her stockings. She was a bit on the plump side for a woman of her height. Her face was weather beaten and tanned. She wore spectacles that had tortoise shell frames these enhanced her emerald green eyes. Ginger hair, of which she had plenty, cascaded down to her shoulders in ringlets that gently caressed her shoulders.
My Nan was a hard working woman. Besides bringing up a family she also worked for many years as a packer - of engine parts - for R A Lister & Co Ltd at their subsidiary factory in Wotton, before her retirement. After retirement she lived alone. During that time she did all of her own gardening, housework, and decorating, except on the odd occasions when I was able to help her at weekends or during school holidays.
Her garden, at Locombe Place, was narrow but long. It ran from her garden shed, near the house, down to the back of the houses that made up the estate of Fountain Crescent. At the bottom of the garden were the remains of an old 'Anderson' air raid shelter. This shelter, over the years, had become camouflaged with raspberry canes and gooseberry bushes. We children were under strict instructions to keep well away from this shelter, as it was unsafe. Eventually it was removed and the space filled in and the ground around it flattened. The rest of the garden was kept reasonably well cultivated to the best of Nan's ability and considering her age. On both sides of her garden she grew a variety of vegetables, mostly for her own table, but if she did have any surplus she usually gave it to Mum or one or two of her neighbours. Half way down the garden, on the left, there was a large apple tree. Invariably every year this tree would produce an abundance of rosy apples. We children were told that we could collect some of these apples as long as we only had the ones that had fallen on to the garden. When we thought that Nan wasn't watching we would shake the lower branches of the tree vigorously and get showered in falling apples. If we were caught, Nan would stop us from going anywhere near the tree, until all of the apples had been harvested and stored in boxes in her spare bedroom. Then we were only allowed to have a few at a time. Alongside her large black painted shed she grew strawberries. These large and plump heart shaped fruits she would pick and make some of the most delicious strawberry jam that I have ever tasted. It was scrummy!
Nan's home was a red brick terraced house, belonging to Dursley District Council. Inside the ground floor consisted of one large lounge with a bay window, a spacious kitchen that contained a large cast iron bath. The bath when not in use was kept covered with a large hinged wooden cover that also doubled as a work surface. On this surface Nan stored a lot of her non-perishable cooking items, and because there were very few fridges in those days, she had too stand her bottles of milk in a large enamel bowl of cold water to prevent it from going sour. The rest of the kitchen consisted of a large wooden shelf above the small gas cooker. On this shelf were saucepans, frying pan and two earthenware jars containing salt and vinegar. Below the kitchen window was a deep white kitchen sink, with a wooden draining board on the right hand side. The walls were of bare brick that had been painted magnolia in an effort to brighten up the otherwise dark kitchen.
There was also a smaller sitting room, on the left as you entered through the front door, which was located about half way down the side of the house. Nan lived in this room, as it was easier to keep warm in winter. The fireplace was fairly large. It had a fire basket in the centre with an oven on one side and on the other side was a compartment for keeping plates and dishes warm. Though Nan kept her kindling wood in it. On top of the oven was a large copper kettle, which Nan used for hot water, for washing up, tea making or to fill her hot water bottle with at night. Above this fireplace was a wide mantelpiece, the width of the hearth. Around the mantelpiece was a deep valance of a deep red flowery material. On the mantelpiece was a large clock, housed in a square black wooden case, with a glass door for access to wind it up each day, this clock struck the hour and the half-hour. There was a large brass key to wind the clock with. In front of the hearth stood a large mesh fireguard, made of brass, this also covered the width of the large fireplace. On the fire guard Nan would place her tea towels and any other small items that she had washed and needed drying. As a child I remember sitting in the armchair opposite Nan and watching the steam from these items being drawn up the chimney and disappearing. If Nan forgot to remove any of the items when they were dry they would eventually be covered in large brown scorch marks, which were difficult or near impossible to remove.
In an alcove next to the fireplace was a large wooden Welsh dresser, this was made of natural wood that had been varnished. On the shelves of the dresser Nan kept all of her best china. Willow pattern plates and dishes. Along the edges of the shelves were hooks on which hung her china cups and the saucers were piled up on the base of the dresser. There were two large drawers, in one the cutlery was kept and a few tablecloths. In the other was an assortment of other table linen. The two cupboards below the drawers contained the remainder of Nan's china and some glassware. On the corner of the dresser was her radio, in a brown and cream bakelite cabinet, the brand name was 'Sobell'. Under the window, to the right of a small armchair, Nan had a gramophone. This was housed in a square cherry wood cabinet with a hinged lid. The cabinet was about four feet in height and stood on four short carved legs. Two doors opened on the front to reveal the speaker, the front of which was decorated in an ornate pattern of cherry wood. Inside the cabinet at the side was a compartment for storing records (78's). The turntable had a layer of cloth on it to protect the records when being played. The arm that played the records was silver in colour and tubular in shape. The needles were rather thick and had to be screwed in to an aperture at the end of the playing arm. Before playing any records the machine had to be wound up, by means of a handle, that was inserted into the right hand side of the cabinet and located on to a winding mechanism. This winding had to be done after each record had been played.
I spent many happy hours playing some of the old 78's that Nan had collected over the years. Henry Hall, Glenn Miller, Ted Heath and his orchestra, Victor Silvester were some of the records that come to mind. Along with some classical ones, 'Tales of Hoffman, 'The Sabre Dance', 'The March Militare', 'The Poet and Peasant Overture', the march 'El Capatine, and several dance band type records.
The top of the gramophone was home to several items that had to be removed every time you wanted to play any records. There were two large square biscuit tins, the tins were black with Japanese figures painted on them in red and gold. In front of those was a large pink glass tray. On this tray was a pink hair brush and a pink hand mirror, in between these lay a pink comb. On either side of the glass tray there were two small pink glass candleholders. Underneath all of this was a white lace runner with tiny bunches of pink roses around the edge. All of this I had to remove to play the records.
During the war Nan took in several evacuees from London. These children kept in touch with her for many years after the war. In the post war years Nan took in lodgers. They occupied the large lounge and the large back bedroom, and also shared the kitchen. The small back bedroom and the small cupboard on top of the stairs were used for storage of excess furniture and linen.
Sometimes, while playing my favourite records, I would get complaints from Nan's lodgers about playing two particular records over and over. They were Glen Miller's 'In the Mood' and 'String of Pearls', and sometimes, just for devilment, I'd play the 'March Militaire' repeatedly. I wonder why they decided to find other accommodation? Was it something I had said or done? I'm only jesting, they were allocated a new house by the Council, on the newly built housing estate nearby.
The years after the war saw a boom in house building in and around Wotton. A new housing estate was started at the top of Synwell Lane. The existing fields were opened up and a road was laid, through to Wortley Road. The District Council began to build large three bedroom houses on either side of this new road adjacent to the 'Full Moon' public house and was to be called 'Mount Pleasant'.
As children we had not seen a building site before. This was new and exciting to us. A new playground. While this estate was being built we spent most of our evenings playing on the site, after the workmen had finished for the day, there were trenches to be explored, piles of bricks to be climbed over and mountains of sand to be played with and on. Back then we were unaware of the dangers on that site. Most of us went home with shoes and socks full of builder's sand and damp patches on our trouser seats from sliding down the piles of sand. To us it was as good as a trip to Weston-Super-Mare.
Nan's house had no electricity until well after the war. Whenever I visited her, and stayed over, we would have to read by candlelight and listen to her radio - powered by a battery and accumulator. At bedtime we had to carry a candle in a blue circular candleholder, with a handle similar to a cup handle. When I had undressed an was in bed I spent sometime making silhouette figures on the bedroom wall with my hands, I could do images of a Swan, Ostrich, Dog, Butterfly and a Moth.
Winter mornings were very cold at Nan's house. The linoleum-covered bedroom floor was cold to the feet. The windows would be covered over with frost, until you rubbed your finger on it to create a spy hole to look through. The jug of water on the wash stand at the foot of the bed usually had a thin film of ice on it. Your every breath could be seen like short puffs of steam in the air. On mornings like these I would wait until I heard Nan go down stairs first to rekindle the fire, before I ventured out from under the blankets and eiderdown.
After breakfast we would sit around the fire drinking our mugs of tea. Our hands encircled the mugs until our fingers felt as warm as toast and our cheeks were aglow. Sometimes we would toast slices of bread, using a toasting fork, in front of the roaring fire. The bars on the fire would create brown and white stripes on the bread. When toasted both sides we would spread lashings of butter on the toast and watch as it seeped into the bread, it was delicious even without marmalade. Even now I can still feel the butter from the toast, as it ran from my mouth and down my chin. Only then did we feel like facing the outside world.
Some Saturday evenings I would try and get around Nan to take me to Wotton Picture House. I was not always successful. I should have realised that after working hard all week Nan wanted to relax at weekends. Anyway, if she felt up to it she would take me. Otherwise we would spend the evening sitting beside the fire, either reading or listening to the radio, sometimes both. Our favourite programme would be Saturday Night Theatre, on the 'Home Service' as it was then. Now 'Radio Four'.
After a few visits to the cinema I was hooked, on the big silver screen. It was an addiction that stayed with me from the late 1940's to the early 1970's. On a Monday evening I just had to have 6d or 1/- to go to the cinema. I loved the old westerns with Gary Cooper, John Wayne, Roy Rogers, Tom Mix, Errol Flynn, Gabby Hayes, Hopalong Cassidy (William Boyd) and many more. My other favourite film stars were Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy, Humphrey Bogart, Edward G Robinson, Maureen O'Hara, Jane Russell and Bette Davis. I just enjoyed any films, no matter what category. After the first film on Monday evening there would be a break then we had the trailers for next weeks films, plus 'Pathe News' - Bob Danvers-Walker usually did the commentary on these newsreels. Then we had a weekly serial. The first one that I remember was 'Nyoka, the Jungle Girl'. This was a series of adventures set in the African jungle. To us in those days it was pretty exciting stuff, with plenty of chases through the jungle away from the natives, with lots of booby traps to avoid. The star of this series was a lady called Frances Gifford. I don't recall ever seeing her in any other movies.
The other Monday night serial was 'Captain Marvel'. This was equivalent to today's 'Supernan'. About a mild mannered citizen in a mid western town of America. He fought against injustice. When things began to get out of hand he would go away alone, then he would utter the word 'Shazam!' and seconds later he would have the power to fly, wearing a cape and also the ability to be bullet proof. Looking back we think 'what a load of rubbish', but back then it was part of growing up.
As I got older I went to the cinema with some of my friends from school. Then we had to pay 6d admission and this entitled us to sit in any of the first five rows of the cinema. In those days the seats were ordinary wooden chairs with high backs. The next section of seats would cost you 1/3d, and the back section of the cinema seats would cost you 1/9d, these were green padded seats, with orange trims.
The first adult film that I remember seeing was 'The Sea Witch,' a seafaring adventure starring John Wayne. Near the end of this film John Wayne was drowned. On the way home I felt very upset about this, as I was convinced that he really had been killed. It took a lot of convincing me to believe that it was only make believe, and that I would see him again in many more films.
On a bad night at the cinema the projector would break down several times. This invariably led to foot stamping and slow hand clapping from the patrons. On these occasions the cinema owner would walk around with her torch in hand trying to quieten everybody down. To do this she could be heard saying Ssh! Sssh! Sssh! In reply to this the audience would continue to slow hand clap, but instead of foot stamping they would mimic her Sssh! Sssh! Until normal service was resumed. At the end of the evening performance we raced down to the bottom of Long Street, to buy our 6d bag of chips from 'Witts Fish Shop' to eat on the way home. While waiting to be served with our chips I spent the time looking into the glass tanks of gold fish, that were kept in the window of the fish and chip shop. These fish you could purchase for 6d or 1/- depending on the size of the fish. The many and varied colours of the fish always fascinated me. I often wondered why the fish never seemed to tire of swimming in the same water day after day. It seemed to me, thinking about it, that sometimes our lives aren't so different from those fish. Without the comfort and support of those around us (family) we would be like those fish out of water. Without either we would not survive. We all have to keep swimming against the tide of life.
The following morning, on the way to school, we usually met our fellow filmgoers at the top of Synwell Lane. All the way down the lane we acted out our parts in the previous nights films. With our mackintoshes tied around our necks, by means of the top button, to resemble the cape worn by Captain Marvel we ran off down the hill pretending that we could fly. One or two of us climbed the grassy bank on the side of the lane and jumped back on to the road on the pretence of being able to fly. Oh! Happy days.
Most Friday evenings after school I would make my way up to the R A Lister & Co Ltd factory to wait for Nan to finish work at 5.15 pm.
Inside the factory where she worked were four rows of benches, back to back, where the other ladies who worked with Nan did their packing of engine parts for the world famous Lister Diesel engines. There were twenty lady packers in all. Two other departments made up the small factory. There was the 'Pipe Shop, where copper pipes were bent on a machine to the required shape and nozzles were then soldered on the ends of the pipes before being sent to the packers for packing. The other shop was a small fitting shop where bits and pieces were fitted to larger parts of the engines before they were transported to Dursley for final fitting to the finished engine.
I wasn't really allowed in the factory, so what I used to do was wait at the main door. This door was invariably open and it wasn't long before one of Nan's colleagues spotted me and told her that I was waiting. She would then go up to the works office and ask the works manager - Mr Cyril Driver - if I could come in and wait for her, if I stood alongside her bench. Provided that none of the Company Directors from Dursley were visiting I was allowed in to wait.
All of the other ladies in Nan's department used to make a fuss of me. Offering me sweets or biscuits and even a cup of tea, which I readily accepted, blushingly. On my birthdays I was often given small presents from the ladies, packets of sweets, Dinky or Hornby toy cars, a book or from one or two a big wet kiss on the cheek.
The factory foreman, Mr Gale, used to tell me silly little jokes, although I remember laughing at the time I can't remember many of them. One was 'if there were two flies on a door, which one was ill?' Answer, 'the one on the panel. One more was, 'There were two flies on the wallpaper, which one was the bandit?' Answer, 'the one heading for the border'.
Mr Gale was a tall slim man, with close-cropped silver hair and a thick silver moustache. His haunting grey eyes were large and round under sparse eyebrows. He carried spectacles in the top pocket of his brown smock. He only wore the glasses for reading and then slipped them back into his pocket. To watch him remove his glasses and return them to his pocket was quite magical, as he never looked to see if he had put them in the right place and I wondered how long it would be before he missed the pocket, but he never did. Mr Gale was rather round-shouldered and walked with a stoop and always carried a pencil behind his right ear.
Mr Driver was a tall man as well. He wore a white smock, which when buttoned up showed off his rather rotund figure. He also wore a grey flat peaked cap and usually had a pen or a pencil stuck in one side of it above his ear. His face was always rosy, but he seldom if ever seemed to smile. Although Mr Driver knew my Christian name he always addressed me as Mr Gough. Even after I left school and went to work for the same company in Dursley and came across Mr Driver he still addressed me as Mr Gough.
Nan was responsible for making the tea for the factory in the afternoons. The water was heated in a large silver boiler, the water was then poured into a large brown tea urn, which was allowed to stand to brew for a few minutes. The urn was on a trolley, which Nan had to push around the factory floor between the benches and draw off cups or mugs of tea - through a tap - as requested. The money for each cup of tea was kept in a small biscuit tin that sat alongside the tea urn. Milk and sugar was kept on the trolley under the tea urn.
At precisely 5.12 pm all the people in the factory would leave their places of work to go and wash up, before clocking off for the day.
Nan and I would say good night to the others before we made our way out into Long Street. Firstly we went to the Co-op, to buy any groceries that she needed. The Co-op was a fairly large shop with serving counters on three of the four sides of the store. In front of one counter, down the right hand side of the shop were large tin boxes, containing biscuits, with glass tops. These boxes sometimes contained broken biscuits that could be purchased for a few pennies a pound. Nan usually bought some to have with her tea or coffee at home. Bacon and ham was sliced for you on a large red and silver meat slicing machine. Sugar was packed for you in strong blue bags, normally in quantities of 1lb or 2lbs. Butter and Cheese was packed for you depending on quantity. If you belonged to the 'Divi' club you could get a discount off of your total purchases. As you paid for your goods you were asked for your 'Divi' number for this you were given a small receipt with your number on. These you saved to the end of the year then usually at Christmas time you collected your total 'Dividend' for the year from the Co-op office. I'll never forget Nan's dividend number it was 9268.
From the Co-op we would go over to the paper shop, owned by Frank Davis, either for Nan to pay her paper bill, she always read the 'Daily Herald', or to buy me some comics if I wanted them. I usually had the 'Dandy' or the 'Beano' depending on what day they were due to be published.
Mr Davis was a large stockily built man. He had very little hair. There was no hair on the top of his head and what little he did have was around the side of his head. He had a large round face, which always looked shiny as though he were permanently perspiring. The large horn-rimmed spectacles that he wore were constantly sliding down his rather bulbous nose. Because of this he had got in to a habit of pushing his glasses back up his nose whether they needed to be or not. Frank Davis sold a varied range of products besides sweets and chocolate. His stock included boxes of chocolates, wrapping paper for all occasions, magazines, pens and pencils, artists brushes, boxes of water colour paints and a large sock of stationery including postage stamps.
From there we proceeded down to Mr Evans' sweet and cake shop. Here Nan bought fancy cakes for her tea and one for me if I was lucky. If Mr Evans found a sweet jar with only a few sweets left in it he would put them in a bag and hand them to me free of charge, even though sweets were still officially on ration. I liked Mr Evans!
Mr Eli Evans was a tall and erect middle aged man. Ex military some people thought, but no one was really sure, because Mr Evans was a quiet and very private person. His black curly hair, streaked with grey, surrounded his pleasant but angular face, his brown eyes appeared small behind the rather thick lenses of his gold rimmed spectacles that he wore. In his conversations with Nan he always addressed her jovially as Mrs Bye and Bye. He was very rarely seen after closing his shop at six o'clock. His wife sometimes helped out in the shop. Her mobility was somewhat restricted because of a foot deformity, in spite of this she was always cheerful and smartly dressed. She often wore a two piece costume of powder blue with navy blue trims. Around her neck she often wore a matching necklace and on her lapel would be a floral cameo broach.
The next stop on our shopping expedition was to the chemist shop. Here Nan would purchase various items of a female nature. I was always asked to be good and wait outside for her, where I scanned through some of my comics.
After that it was home, to Cotswold Gardens,. That is if Nan didn't get stopped on our way up Synwell Lane by someone that she knew, if so it meant a further delay while she had a natter with who ever it was. Here Nan would settle down and have a cup of tea and a Woodbine with Mum. If Dad was at work or out working on the garden she would stay and have some tea with us. Nan was always worried in case Dad said anything to upset her, usually about her favouritism of me. During their chat Nan would tell her of all the events that had made up her day and Mum would tell her what sort of day she had encountered. Two or three hours later Nan would say cheerio to everyone and leave for her home, over at Locombe Place.
"You could have been a bit more civil to her Bern," Mum said pointedly, after Nan had gone.
"Never!" Dad retorted angrily.
"You know how I feel about that woman, even though she's your mother." Dad protested, as he helped Mum to clear the tea table.
"Why do you hate her so much?" Mum asked pleadingly
"Because she's an old interfering old busy body, that's why," Dad offered. "And until she starts treating the rest of my children like she does our Terry I will always feel this way about her," Dad continued as he wiped up the plates and dishes for Mum at the kitchen sink.
"Don't be so ridiculous, she treats them all the same as far as I can see. Our Terry has always been her favourite grandson, Grandmothers have always been like that towards the first born. She loves the others just as much, your mother is as bad she idolises him as well!" Mum replied adamantly to Dad's intransigence.
"I don't want him being spoilt rotten by her, because you know as well as I do that in time to come we wont be able to do a thing with him, because of her." Dad quickly replied, putting the final knives and forks away in the cutlery drawer.
"I'm sure your worrying about nothing love, he's a nice obedient and well mannered boy, just don't be so nasty to Mum, eh?" Mum pleaded as they made their way back into the kitchen.
"Ok! Don't say I didn't warn you though." Dad concluded.
But he did continue, over the coming years, to antagonise Nan and Mum.
Despite the turmoil between Mum and Dad we continued to enjoy our childhood in Wotton.
Nan remained living on her own until the middle nineteen sixties.
It was in these latter years that her health began to deteriorate. It was during one of her regular Wednesday visits to see Mum in Dursley that Mum noticed some bruising around Nan's face and arms. Questioning Nan about these bruises, Nan tried to hide what had really happened by saying that she had fallen over a box in the garden shed. Not wanting to call her own mother a liar, Mum let the matter rest at that point, but voiced her concerns to Dad on his return from work. The following week Mum noticed that Nan's speech had become very slurred and her breathing was somewhat erratic. Eventually Mum persuaded Nan to see a doctor. His diagnosis was that she had had a slight stroke, affecting her speech and the movement in her left side. The doctor assured Mum and Dad that with plenty of rest and looking after he didn't see why Nan shouldn't make a slow but full recovery. A course of pills were prescribed that she would have to take for the rest of her days. When Mum and Dad finally decided together that Nan should give up her home in Wotton and move in with them at Dursley, where she could be looked after properly. Nan's health improved over the next two years or so. Which is more than can be said of the relationship between her and Dad. When she moved in with Mum and Dad she was registered with another doctor. After examining Nan and reading through her medical records her new doctor decided he would take her off the tablets that had been prescribed for her by her Wotton doctor. Within a month or two of this action Nan's health deteriorated again. Her speech became slurred again and she began to wander in her mind. Despite calling the doctor to see her several times, we were assured by him that there was nothing for us to worry about, she would be fine. On my frequent visits to Mum and Dad's to see her I was alarmed to see such a change in her, mentally and physically. At times I don't think that she knew who I was. She would talk to me, but as if I were someone else, she even used a different name for me. It was later that we realised that with the name she called me by was in fact her brother's name. He was killed in action during the Boer War. Another instance was if she asked me if I would get her some cigarettes for her, if I was going out. For this she would offer me a few pennies to get her twenty cigarettes. I tried to explain that they were more that that these days, but she would not have it, telling me that that was all she had to pay for her last packet. Not wishing to argue with her I just took her money and paid for them myself, offering her the few pennies back, as change, on my return with her cigarettes.
On Friday February 19th 1971, Mum and Nan were watching a film on television, as they usually did on a Friday, while Dad had gone out for a drink with my two brothers. After the film Nan said how much she had enjoyed it and then went to use the outside loo. On her return she complained too Mum of not feeling well. Mum noticed that Nan was having difficulty breathing, so she helped her upstairs to bed, and decided to call for the doctor. Eventually the doctor arrived and examined Nan. After administering her several injections the doctor told Mum that if Nan could survive the night she should be ok. Unfortunately, within the hour Nan was dead. She slipped away peacefully, at the age of seventy six. The warm summer holidays would find us stripped to the waist and out on the side of Coombe Hill. Where we often stripped the nut bushes of their fruit, ramming our short trouser pockets full so that we had something to nibble on during our play. We used to while away the hours by sitting on the upper slopes of the hillside stripping the 'filbert' and 'hazel' nuts that we had gathered of their outer casing and then dividing them amongst ourselves, so that we all had equal amounts. In the tall grass that grew on the side of the hill we would sometimes sit playing with the tiny green grasshoppers that inhabited the grasses. We never did them any harm, just prodding them with our hazel sticks that we always carried with us, just to see how far they could jump. On the top of Coombe Hill, where the grass was much shorter we used to sit on our bottoms and see how far we could slide down the hillside. Lord help us if we went home with holes in the seats of our trousers or with grass stains on them.
Some Sunday evenings, during the spring and summer, Mum and Dad would wash and dress us and then take us for a walk. Usually we would walk across the fields, down to and across Gaston,s Brook, and up on to Coombe Road. From there we climbed up on to Coombe Hill. There we normally sat for a while, to admire the view - which is breathtaking - then we would play with a small ball that we had brought with us. When we tired of that Mum and Dad took us down the other side of the hill into Adey's Lane. This is a long winding leafy lane leading down from Coombe Hill. There are several houses nestled in the wood under the hill. Also on the way down there are several spots, with seating, where the weary traveller can stop and take in the beauty of the surroundings. At the bottom of Adey's Lane you are back on to Coombe Road. Nearing the end of our Sunday jaunt we would call in at 'The Salutation' a small public house. Here Mum and Dad would partake of some the landlords finest ale. We children along with other children that had assembled there were sent into the pub garden to play. Eventually Dad would bring us out a bottle of lemonade each and a packet of 'Smith's' crisps, the ones that contained a small quantity of salt screwed up in a blue square of waxed paper,. This salt container had usually worked its way to the bottom of the bag so that you had to delve into the bag to get your salt to sprinkle on the crisps.
With the other children we played tag and hide and seek, until we began to tire and then we grew restless. The sun had gone down and the evening grew chilly, as we waited for Mum and Dad to come out of the pub bar. Although Dad was usually a quiet and reserved man, whenever he had been in a public house he seemed to take on a different mantle. He would sometimes become argumentative with Mum over the slightest thing. When he was like this Mum found it paid sometimes to ignore him because she knew full well that he would be his normal self by morning. She did not always bite her tongue though. In those cases it would invariably lead to a heated slanging match.
On our arrival back home we were washed, changed into our pyjamas and taken up to bed where we were tucked in for the night.

To be continued .....