Well I have goofed around long enough, time to get back to books. ‘Guy at the Bar’ will be coming off Amazon soon. If anyone wants to buy the $2 version of it, you have a limited time to do so. I will be getting it tidied up, edited and will re-publish it very shortly. ‘Girl on the Beach’ will be available on Amazon and other eBook sites soon. I may also put this in print in a month or so, depending on finances, sales etc. ‘A Walk in the Park’, if that indeed remains the title, will be finished pretty soon. It is my longest book yet. This weekend I will be posting the second chapter of ‘Flat Country Snow’, the story that makes me smile. Stay tuned and enjoy my journey. I am in no great hurry, but one day, I will make a living at this. Have a great weekend and get your fill of wonderful World Cup Football. Be Happy!
Give me some feedback. Which did you think was the best? Be honest!
I enjoyed writing them both. Guy at the bar will always be may favorite because it was the first one I plucked up courage to share. I am hoping I get better with experience, but who knows. Have a FANTASTIC long weekend everyone. Grill, entertain and relax.
Aren’t we all happy we are at home and not at work! Tomorrow I am posting the last chapter of my ‘girl on the beach’ story. It’s quite emotional! I would like to thank everyone so much for all of the feedback and encouragement you have given me. Writing is something I love and want to continue doing for a long time. I hope to start posting chapters of ‘Flat Country Snow’ in June, but need to re-read it first as it is a little different. Remember ‘Guy at the bar’ is available on Amazon.com for anyone who wants to download the whole thing and read it on their kindle, iPad or iPhone. ($2) I am trademarking my stories under the name Plane Reading, because most of them are just the right length for the average flight within the US. ingenious right? Well I thought it was, just trying to make a living. Things to do, people to see, places to go……busy Saturday! Keep reading!
I got such a boost from realizing that people were actually paying money to read ‘Guy at the Bar’, that I jumped back into my 1982 Germany story, which I had not looked at for a week or so. Watch for it! Anyone remember this guy? Look at that hair style. This is Paulo Rossi, hero for Italy in the 1982 World Cup. He plays a part in my story too, well not personally, but he is mentioned.
My story is almost finished. One more chapter to go. I hope you have enjoyed my story and will keep reading. I have one shorter story, which I may start blogging sometime in June. Lots to do now and hard to keep up. This blog has been a starting point for me, and given me the confidence (thanks to your comments) to continue sharing stories from my life. Every single story I am writing at the moment is based on events that truly happened to me. I embellished a little to make it fun, but there is a great deal of truth in what I write. For now anyway. Enough of my ramblings, let’s get on to the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it, feel free to comment. Happy Mothers Day.
We arrived at the gate to the playground just as Mr. Robinson rang the bell for assembly. He stood by the school doors as everyone filed through them. Judy and I tagged on to the back and stopped as we got to the door. Mr. Robinson, Mrs. Ball has taken Sonia home, she had a fall on the way to school. I think the lightning startled her and she fell over. She asked us to tell you, and to let you know she would be here soon. Mr. Robinson looked slightly amused. “Lightning you say, I heard a couple of rumbles of thunder, but I never saw any lightning. Are you sure?” I nodded my head and was just about to speak when a huge fork of lightning crackled over to our left in the cornfield, followed almost immediately by an enormous clap of thunder. We all ran inside quickly because when the thunder and lightning was that close together, it meant the storm was right overhead. It was even more dangerous because there was no rain. Dry lightning was bad when the corn was turning yellow. I heard Freddie say that one day when we were riding in his horse and cart. Mrs. Ball was the only other teacher apart from Mr. Robinson, so we all got together in one class and Mr. Robinson decided to tell a story. He liked stories, and took this one from his Hans Christian Anderson book. I enjoyed his stories, but I couldn’t concentrate, I was hypnotized by the storm. It got so dark that we had to put the lights on, the sky was black and a howling wind seemed to come from nowhere. I was very glad we weren’t still walking along the road to school. I wasn’t usually afraid of thunder and lightning, in fact I enjoyed it, but this was a little scary. The trees outside in the orchard were blowing so bad that the blossoms were flying off sideways, making it look like a pink and white blizzard. Far off, in the teacher’s staff room the phone was ringing. Mr. Robinson ignored it as he was trying to keep everyone’s attention and if he left to answer the phone his class, especially the infants, might focus on what was going on outside. I could tell Mr. Robinson was a little uneasy too. It was like night outside our school and it looked like the sun had a big blanket over it. The phone stopped ringing for a moment, but then started again. I think Mr. Robinson had decided he should answer it, and stood up to do so when something hit the big window at the side of the classroom. A branch had blown off a tree and hit the window with such force that the window cracked, catching the end of the branch as it did so and leaving it flapping and banging as it hung there threatening to break in. Lynne, one of the younger children, started crying and Mr. Robinson went over to her to try to calm her down. Judy, who was younger than me and not normally in the same classroom, came and sat next to me, her little clammy hand clasped mine and we sat there wondering if the world was going to end. It felt like it was. Mr. Robinson gathered us all together and led us into the passage way by the cloakroom, he was trying to be cheerful and not alarm us, but by now several kids were crying. He told us all to sit down against the wall and explained we were safer there, in the corridor because there were only a couple of small windows , so if any more tree branches were flying around, we wouldn’t be hurt by breaking glass. Almost on cue, we heard a huge crashing noise as the window in the class room we had just left, finally gave in to the flapping branch, and shattered. Two or three kids screamed and some just continued to whimper.
I had never been in a hurricane, and I didn’t know if this was a hurricane, but it felt like one. I could see things flying past the little windows in the cloakroom. Branches, leaves, and other things I couldn’t make out. They looked like flying people, the sort sometimes seen in book illustrations, not quite cartoons, but not totally real either, it was scary, hurricanes couldn’t make people fly about could they? I rubbed my eyes and looked again and was sure I saw a face staring in the cloakroom window, a sad pale face with huge eyes looking directly at me, and then it was gone. I saw what looked like seats and clothes flying by too. It was the darkness outside playing tricks with the shadows from inside. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, and as I did so, I must have squeezed Judy’s hand too. It sounded way in the distance, but I could hear her crying “Stop, stop, you are hurting me” I opened my eyes and released my grip, she immediately snatched her hand away from me. The wind seemed to be calming down a little, I could hear someone else crying, the sound was not coming from the group of children crouched against the wall, it was coming from the infants classroom at the far end of the corridor. I tried to see who was crying all alone in the classroom just as the lights went out. Everyone screamed!
Mr. Robinson was talking to everyone in a calming voice telling them it would be all right and it was most likely a branch falling on a power line that had caused the lights to go out. Judy was holding my hand again and was whimpering quietly. I hadn’t screamed, I had hardly noticed the lights go out, I was trying to see who was in the doorway of the infants class, it was dark, but I knew someone was there. Lightning flashed, in that split second of light I saw an angel looking in my direction, there were tears running down her cheeks. It was the little girl from my dream, and from the beach in Blackpool. It looked like a light was shining from within her, her curls were blowing softly as if there was a breeze, even though she was inside and there was none, she was looking out of the window, up to the sky. She didn’t look frightened, just sad. She raised her arm up to one side, almost like she was reaching up to hold someone’s hand and then lightning flashed again and she was gone.
Now I was scared because something just wasn’t right. I had a feeling in my tummy, just below my ribs, it was an uncomfortable sickening feeling. It felt like the air had been sucked out of me. This was the very first time I had that feeling. As I got older, it was something I felt often, but in 1964 I was only seven and it felt wrong, I could hardly breathe. Tears trickled silently down my face, I didn’t really know why, but I was more scared right then than I had ever been in my whole life. The wind was still howling outside, but not so much. It was still very dark both outside and in. Judy was holding my hand still and I could feel her looking at me. I daren’t look up because I was afraid of what I would see. I felt like this day and the whole world, had gone crazy. Although the little girl didn’t look scared, seeing her had made me scared, it made me think of my sunstroke dream again, and all of the horrible sounds and smells it brought with it. Lights flashed outside, very close and I was scared even more. “Looks like Mrs. Ball made it, it’s a miracle” Mr. Robinson was talking now and sounded genuinely relieved. The flashing lights I had seen were the headlights of her little Morris Minor. I looked along the corridor and saw her by the front doors, which were made of glass. She had trouble opening them and I willed her to come in quickly. There were things outside that could follow her in, things that needed to stay outside, things that were just beyond our vision, but they were there, waiting for the opportunity to come in and move among us. Mrs. Ball looked awfully disheveled, her normally neatly curled hair, looked like it had been pulled through a hedge backwards, but she made it through the doors and she actually turned around and locked the doors after she entered, maybe she had seen the faces too. She stood by Mr. Robinson and they looked at each other as though their eyes were talking. Mrs. Ball took the younger kids to one end of the corridor and started talking to them, Mr. Robinson stayed with me and one or two of the older kids. Our whole school, which was a converted church, only had twelve pupils, so we were a small group, which under the circumstances was a good thing. A large group of kids could quickly get out of control in a situation like this.
I don’t know how long the phenomenon outside lasted. I never looked at the clock on the wall, but when the lights came back on, we were all very relieved. The wind died down and it got lighter outside. Mrs. Ball led us all into the assembly room and sat down at the piano, she started playing ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ which was one of her favorite hymns. We didn’t need any one to tell us to sing. Everyone sang their little hearts out, even the Jehovah’s Witness kids who didn’t normally join us to sing hymns. They didn’t need help with the words either, they sang louder than anyone. The sun came up again, the wind dropped and then it rained, not a hard drenching downpour, just a gentle early summer rain. Mr. Robinson led us all to the doors that opened on to the playground and we all stood and looked at an amazing sight. The playground was covered in petals, pink apple blossom petals, it looked beautiful. Mrs. Ball and Mr. Robinson looked at each other and then opened the doors, the rain was easing up and we all ran outside, it smelled so wonderful and fresh out there. We ran around the playground as if we had been imprisoned for days instead of a couple of hours, we kicked apple blossom into the air, we bent down and picked it up and threw it all around us. We lifted up handfuls of it and pressed it to our noses. I forgot how scared I had been and joined in, the mood was contagious. Kids heal quickly and I was healing again. The little girls smiling face still haunted me, but I dismissed it quickly, she was probably still on my mind from Blackpool and my mum always said that your mind played funny tricks with you sometimes.
Melvyn, my first childhood crush, was standing at the far end of the playground, quietly on his own, no one noticed him but me, probably because I was the only one who had a crush on him. He was looking up at a tree at the edge of the cornfield. I followed his gaze. At first I thought the tree was full of blossoms and toilet paper, which was an odd combination in itself. I went and stood by Melvyn, next to the wall, to get a closer look. He looked at me, and instead of pushing me or making fun of me, like he normally would. He just said, “How did that happen?” I looked at the tree again and saw it was full of pink ribbons! Full is a slight exaggeration, but there were about thirty pink satin ribbons fluttering from the branches, the same sort of ribbons that the little girl from my dreams wore in her hair. No one noticed us standing there, and in a little while, Mr. Robinson rang the big school bell and we all went back inside. Melvyn and I didn’t say a word, just went back to class.
OK so I get excited easily! I had not been checking my Amazon account because I didn’t really believe that with the hundreds of thousands of books on there, someone would find mine. They did though. I have done no marketing apart from my blog (and my big mouth) so even though I made barely enough money to buy a bottle of champagne, I can still say I SOLD MY BOOK! I would like to say thank you to everyone who bought it and watch out for my new book, which should be published for kindle, I pad, Barnes and Noble etc. Not decided on a definite title yet so I still need help with that. If you have been reading my single chapters, send your ideas. ‘Girl on the Beach’, (thanks Gay), is still my favorite.
Have a fabulous weekend everyone and watch for the next chapter of Girl on the Beach tomorrow.
Yes I feel very important, you guys have all been reading my unedited stories (and probably laughing at my mistakes). Now I am going to have this current ‘Girl on the Beach’ story published on-line in a professional manner, edited and squeaky clean with a front cover and everything. I hope someone buys it! Watch out of ‘Flat Country Snow’. Its short and a little different. I may publish the ‘raw and unedited’ version on my blog…….feedback please. Good or bad, I need opinions. Happy Reading my friends.
Hi folks, here is a snippet of the story I am currently working on, which I think is going to be called ‘A walk in the Park’. You guessed it, I am in trouble again. I am half way through this book, not quite sure how it will end so watch out for it. It is set in Germany in the early eighties, fun times!
I was just about to pull out of camp when someone ran in front of me and thumped the front of the Volvo as he did so. I screeched to a halt thinking I had hit him, but the bang I heard must only have been his fist on the bonnet of the car. This man stood directly in front of me and looked into my eyes. I got a good look at him this time. He was menacing, and dark and he looked very angry. It was the man I had been seeing in the shadows for the last week. This had to be Viktor! I immediately locked the car door, but before I could close the window, he was there, his disgusting smell seeping in through the open window. “You are going to pay for what you did” he said, with an accent that was heavy and strong. I couldn’t speak. I was terrified. There was something evil about this man, how did he know where to find me? Was he following me? I turned and looked over my shoulder, I was going to reverse back into camp, where there were people and I would be safe. I threw the car into reverse and looked in my rearview mirror. He was there behind me. I shifted into first gear and he was there again in front of me. How could he move so fast?
All good things must come to an end, our nice time in Blackpool being one of them. It was time to finish packing our cases and set off home. We had arrived by train, and would be leaving the same way. Maurice and Tim were going in the opposite direction as they had to meet some people in Birmingham. Then they were flying from Birmingham (second largest city in England according to Maurice) to Lyon. I still was uncomfortable about that bit, especially because we didn’t have a phone at home and he couldn’t phone to say he was safely there. I am glad they didn’t offer to give my mum and me a ride home because cars made me sick and it would be a long car ride from Blackpool to Summerton, which is where I lived. They did drop us at the train station though, even parked their car and came into the station with us. Maurice took me off to get some sweets for my journey. I looked back over my shoulder as we walked to the sweet shop and saw Tim and my mum kissing. Yuk! I wished I hadn’t looked. He did make her very happy though, which was nice because I knew she had been lonely for a long time. We had left my real dad when I was four, he was mean and used to beat my mum and scare my brothers. I would hide behind chairs with my eyes tightly shut and my hands over my ears. He even killed my kitten, he told me a ladder had fallen on it, but I knew he had killed it. He would come home from the pub drunk and smash things. I had seen him a couple of times since we left him, but he didn’t really want to see me, he just asked me questions about my mum. In the end I said I didn’t want to see him anymore, I think my mum was relieved.
We reached the sweet shop, and I couldn’t believe my eyes, there were all sorts of sweets and rock and toffee, more than I had ever seen in one place in my life. I liked everything about this place! Maurice bought me six pink sticks of Blackpool candy rock. He told me I could give some to my friends in school. Everyone loved pink minty candy rock. He told me to choose some sweets for me and some for my mum. I chose iced caramels for me and sugared almonds for my mum. Maybe the train journey wasn’t going to be so boring after all. As we walked back to the platform, the train was pulling in. Not many people got on or off so it wouldn’t stop for long, I gave Maurice a big hug, and then looked at Tim. He looked like he didn’t know what to do, but then he took my hand and gave it a squeeze and told me to look after my mum and be good. That seemed like a funny thing to say, but not as funny as yesterday when Doris and Alfie thought he was my dad. I started laughing. Tim and Maurice helped us put our cases on the train and we found some seats, with a table between them and my mum and I sat facing each other. She had to face the way she was going because going backwards made her feel sick. We had just sat down when the train started pulling slowly away. Tim blew a kiss, at my mum I think, not me. Maurice waved and pulled funny faces. “Mum I really like Maurice” I said. She smiled “I know you do pet, how about Tim, you don’t like him?” “He’s OK!” I told her and she smiled. “We may be seeing a lot more of him” she said. When she said that I got a shiver running all the way down my spine, not because I didn’t like Tim, but I felt like something walked over my grave. I pulled the sweets out of the plastic bag I was carrying and handed my mum the sugared almonds. “Oh yummy, my favorites” she said. I don’t know why she liked them, they were just almonds covered with really hard sugar. I popped an iced caramel in my mouth, now that was a sweet! It was wonderfully chewy toffee, covered in powdered sugar. No one could resist that taste. My mum was reading the Sunday paper as we chugged across the countryside. Our train would take us to Darlington, and then we had to get a bus from there to Summerton. Quite a journey, but that was OK because while we were travelling we were still on vacation. I wasn’t in the mood for going home yet, or going to school the following day.
I sat and looked out of the window for a while, there wasn’t much to see, the sound of the train was lulling me to sleep so I put my head forward on the table and dozed. Maybe it was the position I was sleeping in, or the movement of the train, but I felt like I was fighting with someone in my sleep. I felt like I was pushing something away from me. I kept seeing faces of people I didn’t know, contorted in fear, screaming silently. I tried to wake up, but couldn’t. I felt like the train was flying through the air and everyone was being thrown around, their heads were bobbing and lurching as though they were on a roller coaster. I tried to push the dream away and wake up, but it had a hold on me. I saw the little girl again, the one from the beach, from the sunstroke dream. She was reaching out for me from the very back of the train. It didn’t look like a train anymore, everything was all wrong. I reached out to her and she got further and further away, both of her arms were reaching out to me, and then she was gone.
The sound of a whistle woke me up, we were pulling out of a station, I couldn’t see the name because we were picking up speed. I looked across at my mum, who had also been sleeping. She looked comfortable and relaxed. She wasn’t dreaming about train crashes, I could tell. I had some awful dreams, even when I didn’t have sunstroke. The little girls face haunted me, it seemed so familiar to me now. I could see it in my head even when I was awake. I looked out of the train window again, the scenery had changed and we sped past houses now and churches. I hoped we hadn’t gone past our stop, and then I remembered we couldn’t as the train ended its journey in Darlington. I suppose we could have already reached Darlington and be on our way back to Blackpool again. I think I might like that. I thought about my summer holiday, it had been a lot of fun. It had been a change from my usual life of school, hand me down clothes and sitting waiting for my mum to come home from work, or sitting at the house she worked in. That wasn’t so bad because I pretended I was one of the people who lived there. I often felt jealous of my school friends because they had a mum and a dad and lots of aunties and uncles and grandparents to spoil them. This week while I was on holiday I had lots of attention, posh meal, dances, I had had the time of my life. I think I did want to see more of Tim because good things happened when he was with my mum. It was funny that someone had thought he was my dad though. My mum was fast asleep still so I pulled her newspaper over and looked at it, I was very good at reading and read lots of books, many more than most kids of my age did. Newspapers were boring usually, but I saw Blackpool mentioned on the page that was open. There was a picture of that funny pop group with the skinny singer. ‘The Rolling Stones’, they had been in there the same time as me! They had been doing a concert there and got into a fight, they had been told to never come back. That was awful, not being able to go back to Blackpool, they needed to learn how to behave themselves. My Aunty Laura didn’t like the Rolling Stones, she said Mick Jagger was a bad boy and should be locked up because of the way he danced. Maybe they didn’t like the way he danced in Blackpool and that’s why the fight started! Who knows? I didn’t like the way he sang at all. I liked the Beatles. My mum opened her eyes and smiled. “Reading the paper now? You are growing up aren’t you?” She stretched and popped another sugared almond into her mouth. Then she looked at her watch. “We should be in Darlington in half an hour, lets hope the train is on time because we only have half an hour to get to the bus station”. We could get to the bus station in ten minutes because it was down hill to the bus station. A big hill too. I forgot we had a case to carry and a huge bag. We would make it though. My mum looked at me and said “Maybe we will get a taxi” That sounded like an excellent idea to me!
The train pulled into Darlington station bang on time. British Rail was a little more reliable in those days. We found one of those trolley things and pushed it to the front of the station, where the Taxi rank was. A couple of big black Taxi’s were there waiting for customers. We walked to the one at the front and the cabbie jumped out to help us with our cases. It was less than a mile to the bus station, and we got there in just a few minutes. My mum paid the taxi driver and we dragged our cases into the bus station. Our bus was there so we pulled the cases up the steps and found ourselves a seat, the driver wasn’t there yet so we just sat on the bus and waited. My mum put her arm around me and gave me a hug. “That was a nice holiday” she said “you were a good girl”. I wondered why I would be anything other than good, I had been on the beach, eaten great food, had Blackpool rock and fish and chips, Italian ice cream, and tried my very first pizza. Why would I want to be anything other than good?
One or two other passengers climbed on the bus but that was all as this bus was never full, it went through several small villages, and no one strayed far from home on Sundays. It ran what was called a ‘Sunday Service’. During the week it was a little busier with people coming to and from work, but on a Saturday it was mainly people visiting family in town. The driver got on in his black ‘bus driver uniforms’. Those uniforms looked so hot and uncomfortable, it seemed silly that they wore them, but I suppose it was so we all knew he was the bus driver. My mum went and paid for us, “one and a half to Somerton” she said. Why was I a half? It always made me laugh. I think it was good being a half because it didn’t cost so much, but it always sounded funny. When everyone had paid the diver started the bus up and pulled away, when he pulled out of the big bus station I expected to squint in the bright sunlight, but the sun was hiding behind the clouds now and a light drizzle had started. Yes, our holiday was definitely over. I felt a little sad now, as we slowly drove through the deserted town centre, a far cry from the busy hubbub I had grown used to in Blackpool over the past week. We drove through the deserted market place, empty deserted market stalls lined up looking like metal dinosaur skeletons. There were not many people out today, probably all at home keeping out of the rain. Darlington wasn’t very big, and soon we were in the country side again. There weren’t many stops on the way home, and not many villages to pass through, apart from Walton, it was one I knew well as I had a friend who lived there. Her mum was the housekeeper for Walton Castle, and it was haunted! I know because I had once been locked inside a room there and was very scared. The castle had been a hospital during the Second World War and I was excited to be given a tour of the place. It was incredibly pretty, with beautiful paintings and ornate ceilings that looked like intricately decorated wedding cakes turned upside down. I had been left in one particular room on my own while my friend went and answered the telephone. I wasn’t left in the room for long, but it was long enough. The big heavy door had slammed shut all by itself and the room got very cold and fuzzy looking. I had felt like I was looking at everything through frosted glass. I had felt like someone was in the room with me, but couldn’t see anyone, and although it was daylight, it felt DARK. I had wanted to get out of that room so badly, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t even raise my arm. The whole incident only lasted three or four minutes before the door opened and my friend Shirley appeared, smiling like nothing had happened. The minute she opened the door, I bolted out, right past her and didn’t stop running until I got to the big front door, which was standing open. I ran straight through it and kept on running down the big driveway to the bus stop, where I sat for the next hour, refusing to budge. Shirley, her older sister, her handsome brother (yes he was young enough to be called handsome) and her mum tried to persuade me to come back, but I would not, so instead they brought my coat and bag to me, along with a sandwich and a drink, and sat with me on the side of the road until the bus came. They asked me what had happened and I had been so scared I would not talk about it. That had not been a sunstroke dream at all, that had been a real life broad daylight scare!
As the bus drove past Welton, my mum put her arm around me. “That’s the place you got the bad scare isn’t it”. I didn’t answer, just nodded my head and looked at the little castle from a distance. It looked like a mini castle. It wasn’t huge, like the castles you paid money to walk around. It was more like a big manor house built like a castle. My mum worked in a big manor house, which had seven bedrooms, and I guessed if you stuck four of those houses together, they would make up the size of this castle. Where my mum worked was light and airy though (apart from the long corridor that connected the bedrooms, and the one directly below it that connected the ground floor rooms), this place was dark on the outside, and although the inside rooms were light, with big windows, darkness was lurking! I was glad that the bus didn’t stop there, that castle gave me the shivers.
The bus travelled slowly along the country roads, it had stopped raining, but was still gloomy. It was hard to tell what time of day it was, but it must be getting near to tea time because I was starting to feel hungry. When I felt hungry on a bus, it made me feel sick too. My mum looked at me and saw how pale I was getting “Don’t worry, we will be home in about twenty minutes” she told me. I knew she was right because we were on the road I travelled every day when I went to school. There was the big tree that served as a bus stop when I came home in the evenings. The bus didn’t go right down to my school, I had to get off and then walk another half mile or so, which was ok most days. One day in the spring, that had been a bit of an experience too, I had been walking to school, on my own, during a bad thunder-storm, it was a dry storm which were sometimes very dangerous. Lightening had struck the ground right in front of me and knocked me off my feet. I think it had knocked me out for a while because when I came too and looked up, there was a horse standing right there beside me. I knew it wasn’t going to step on me because it was Kit, Freddie Black’s cart horse, I fed it often enough. I heard footsteps and Freddie appeared beside it. “What are you doing sleeping in the middle of the road?” he had asked me. He helped me up and picked up my satchel for me. I told him the lightning had hit the ground and knocked me over. He laughed hard and said he had heard everything now! He gave me a ride on his cart all the way to school. I was glad he did because when we got further along the road ‘Ringo’ the mean Alsatian from the farm had got loose and was running up and down the road barking and growling. I was terrified of that dog. Freddie cracked his whip at it so it didn’t worry his horse. I had felt very special when I arrived at school that day, the bell hadn’t gone for lessons yet, and the kids playing outside saw me arrive at school in the ‘Hos and Cart’. Everyone loved riding with Freddie.
I was so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed we had passed the road ends, and the tip, and the bus was slowing down by our house. There were no bus stops in Sommerton, only a little bus shelter outside the pub, the bus just stopped where you asked it to. The red telephone box was the land mark the bus looked for. The bus driver got from behind the wheel and helped my mum get off the bus with her big case. Bus drivers were friendly back then and usually drove on the same route, so they knew you by first name. My oldest brother Jim, was a bus driver for a while. The bus pulled away and my mum stood there for a few seconds, maybe like me, she didn’t want her holiday to be finished. “Ok Chicken” she said “Let’s go!” We started to walk across the gravel to our house. We lived on the far end of a row of three houses. I liked ours the best because it had its own private walled garden, the other two houses had to share a garden and entry way. The three houses were whitewashed and didn’t have many windows facing this way which was towards the road, the all faced the other side where the gardens were, and looked over the fields and the little wood at the end of our garden. They all belonged to the farm and the other two were inhabited by farm workers and their families. My mum was special, because she worked inside the farm-house. She cooked and cleaned and made beds, but they treated her really well, and were nice to me too. Most of my clothes came from there and even though they were worn, they were nice clothes.
We got to our house and walked around the side to the door that opened into the kitchen, this is the one we used the most. My mum took out her big key and opened the door, you had to push it hard as sometimes it jammed, so she used her shoulder and pushed the door open. Home sweet home! There was a note on the table. ‘Pop round when you get home, I have some milk and bread for you’. It was from Mrs. Hodges, the lady my mum worked for. We didn’t have a fridge back then, everything was kept in a larder, which had stone floors and was cold, but not cold enough to leave milk in for a week. We emptied all of the dirty clothes out of the case, onto the kitchen floor, ready for washing, and then I helped carry the case upstairs. We quickly put everything away. The big clock on the wall said it was seven o clock. No wonder I was hungry. My mum told me to get a wash and get ready for bed, while she went around to Mrs. Hodge’s and picked up the bread. I ran some water in the bath, not too much, just enough so I could sit in it and get a good wash, and then I got dried and put on my nightie. Just as I got downstairs my mum came back. She looked tired, but was carrying a big basket of food. Mrs. Hodges was good to us. I think she felt sorry for my mum because she wasn’t married anymore. Mrs. Hodge’s husband had died a few years earlier, but she was rich, and had a big house she shared with three grown up sons and two grown up daughters (when the daughters weren’t at boarding school), she knew how my mum struggled so she often helped out. I sat at the kitchen table and waited for something to eat. The basket contained a ham shank with lots of delicious looking meat on, crusty homemade bread, peas pudding, a pat of farm butter and some fresh dairy milk. It didn’t take long to make ham and peas pudding sandwiches, washed down with hot tea. I felt so much better. After eating we cleared the pots into the sink and then sat down on the little sofa and watched our favorite show on the little black and white television. ‘Sunday Night at the London Palladium’ with Jimmy Tarbuck. I loved watching this, especially ‘Beat the Clock’. I liked a lot of things on the telly, but Sunday Night at the London Palladium had to be my favorite. At the end, everyone stood on a big carousel that turned, and they all waved. The women wore fancy swimsuits that were glittery, and they wore feathers in their hair. The women had a name, I think it was the ‘Tiller Girls’, they were all blonde and very beautiful, like film stars.