Rewinding the years

It was a grey day doing those things you do at this time of year when you go back to your roots - visiting the graveyard, then looking round places associated with my Yorkshire upbringing. Fifty years ago on a warm summer day you would have found three elderly ladies chewing the fat together on the middle seat of this shelter in what is a typical Victorian municipal park. One of those ladies would have been my maternal grandmother and I would have been fishing for sticklebacks in the park lake with a jam jar and a net made from an old stocking. And, yes, I did fall in once, right in the mucky bit. My mum dressed me in an underskirt on the bus home and the embarrassment scarred me for life!

I was showing George, our youngest, here, the geography of my childhood. The shelter used to be painted municipal green and once, in the distant past when there was something called civic pride, there was glass in the frames.

Lunchtime was spent meeting up with old friends and this evening in pre-Christmas over-indulging that will only be matched by the over-indulgance to come. My blipping is short-lived just now as the internet connection here is powered by elves who are indisposed doing other things.