When I relied on a galvanised tub and a ponch for the weekly wash I thought longingly of a machine that would do the work.
Until I was five the terrace yard was my playground and my cousins and brother my playmates. We played with marbles made of brown clay and with cigarette cards that were given free in packets of cigarettes. All the men in my family smoked Woodbines, Players or home rolled cigarettes but none of the women smoked.
Christmas brings nostalgia. It is a time to remember the happy days. Forget the hunger, the sorrows and heartaches of later years, remember only the magic and warmth of a loving hearth.
Wes and I met in September 1947 in Nottingham's famous pub 'The Trip to Jerusalem' or rather outside, since inside he stood at the other end of the bar and it wasn't until I left that we met. He was waiting outside for me and asked if he could walk me home.
Why do we do it? Surely it is inviting disappointment. Do you remember the excited anticipation of birthdays? Did they come up to scratch? Mine never did. I remember wishing for a fairy cycle. What happened? My brother got a bike I got a dolls pram.
Once I sang on the stage at the Albert Hall. I was chosen to sing in my class choir on Empire Day. I felt so proud and my brother's jibes about me being chosen because I had a voice like a foghorn didn't bring me down.