We looked like some kind of heroic explorers, white covered. In my case, with the Afghan jacket, I looked more yeti-like than human.
It started with my elder brother, but then was passed down to me, and that was the annual Easter visit to my aunty and uncle’s house. Initially they lived in … Continue reading My grandmother’s house – Part 6 – A trip to Kenilworth and captive in a castle.
Now let me take you back to, probably 1975, London. It was a time of the IRA bombing of the city, unrest with the unions, the arrival of Margaret Thatcher … Continue reading And yet another near death experience!
Apart from setting myself on fire there have been other occasions when the Grim Reaper has approached, but not tapped me on the shoulder.
There are many times in your life, as you get older, that you realize the limits to your stupidity have no bounds. One such occasion happened when I was in my early twenties.
I had my first car, an orange VW Beetle that we bought off my brother in law. Not having much money at the time as we were only married for a year or so, and had welcomed the birth of our first son, I was learning how to service my car. It was a Sunday morning and we were living in Dronsfield on the edge of the Peak District. It was a mild and sunny morning and I was just completing an oil and spark plug change to the beloved Beetle.
Of course there are those moments in your life that you can’t quite believe. Fate and the gods seem to be in the mood for a jolly jape and for some reason they have chosen you to be part of their game. This has happened to me on a number of occasions, but back in London in 1974 was one such time.