Auntie Dot and Uncle Moss were the first people I knew who travelled abroad for a holiday. It was the 1960's and a local coach company began tours to Ostend, Netherlands. It became an annual event and I would look forward to the presents Auntie dot would pack in her suitcase.
On one such occasion she brought me a Traditional Dutched Doll. Along with lots of my friends we started collecting these dolls. My dutch doll really inspired me as the tiny cloggs were genuine wooden ones and I loved the detail of the costume.

I think it must have been 1965 when mum and I went on our very first excursion with the bus company, again to Ostende. The shops wre fascinating and amongst the glamour of the traditional souvineers I came across a toy section. A tiny doll, no bigger than my hand caught my eye. It was simple and inexpensive. I bought it, naming it Ginette. On my return home I would play for hours with my new doll, nobody else had one. I made furniture out of boxes and clothes out of scrap material. At this age I really enjoyed making my own creations, inspired by Blue Peter. Anything I made was for Ginette. I was a very content child, enjoying playing at home always creating, something which never went away.

In 1964 I remember getting my first Sindy Doll. It was Christmas and mum took me to see Father Christmas in the prestigious Binns Store in Middlesbrough. Mum bought me my Sindy Doll, and when I opened the box the smell of the new plastic really had an impression. To this day I can still picture Sindy when I come across the smell of new plastic dolls.

The Sindy doll was launched in September 1962 by the Pedigree Doll Company. Pedigree had a long history of making dolls and wanted to branch out with a teenage doll. Sindy was one of many teenage fashion dolls reflecting wider popular culture and was nicknamed ‘the girl you love to dress’. She had a girlish figure and flat shoes at first, with a head of big, curly blonde hair. She also had a promotional gramophone record, featuring The Dolly Beats – no doubt gaining inspiration from the iconic youth band of the era, The Beatles. And with fashion influenced by the likes of Mary Quant, and models such as Twiggy, it’s no surprise that Sindy became Britain’s top teenage doll.

Sindy had everything a teenager of the 1960s could wish for, including a handsome boyfriend, Paul. Although as a keen follower of fashion she had a huge wardrobe of designer clothes and accessories, I enjoyed making her clothes and remember making her a bed out of a shoe box.

I loved to colour and draw, creating lots of written material for my dolls. I guess it was the beginning of the creative road I would follow later!

To see more posts, visit the ABC Blog here

Mum aged 12

The ability to focus attention on important things
is a defining characteristic of intelligence.

Robert J. Shiller

Mum was definately the more intelligent sibling! As her first marriage deteriorated and found mum and I alone in our new house it was her own intelligence which was to be a major factor in our future. Because she had applied herself at school she gained a place in secretarial college and achieved great results in both shorthand and typing. This was to come in really useful when she applied to ICI Wilton, an organisation famous for it's high standard of entrance qualifications. Mum was successful in gaining a position with them and soon was on the promotional journey which over the next few years would take her to the rank of Secretary to the main personel Officer.

This experience rubbed off on me and I am a firm believer in individuals having a certain amount of choice with their own futures. Work hard, achieve and you will have a certain choice with what you do in life. ..just as mum did. It allowed us to live a decent life with a good home...oh and she was to meet her future husband at ICI, but I will save that story for next week.

To see more contributions to ABC Wednesday click on the logo in the sidebar, or simply go here!

The greatest gift I ever received come from God, I call him Dad!

- Anonymous

John Henry Davison came into my life when I was 7.
Mum had just got a new job at the prestigious ICI, Wilton Training Centre.
One of the Training officers was John Davison, or Jack as he was known.
Mum was one of the secretaries.
This was her first job following the harrowing divorce she had gone through,
a visit from the bailiffs to strip the house we lived in,
seizing goods to cover my biological father's bankrupted business debts,
a nervous breakdown.

Mum borrowed the deposit for a small terraced house from her 2 brothers,
Uncle Bob and Uncle Stan.
It needed lots doing to it, including total rewiring.

We all know how single women are targeted by unscrupulous workmen,
and back in the 1960's things were no different,
so Jack helped Mum by making sure she was not taken for a ride.
He also helped where he could, as electrics were his "thing!"

The very first time he came to our house I was introduced to "Uncle Jack!"
Years later I learned he had been more nervous than me!
I was playing with my doll's house.
He spent time talking to me and I liked him.
He re-wired my doll's house, I had the best there was!
Independent switches in each of the rooms, as a real house would.

Over the years a friendship developed and he would visit us every Saturday.
It was quite a treck for him as he did not drive and travelled from just outside Guisborough.

Mum eventually introduced him to her own parents.
My Grandad, a man of few words took him out for a walk!
He wanted to know his intentions as Mum had been through so much.
Jack assured him he had her and mine best interests at heart.
Grandad was re-assured and a great friendship was kindled between them.
Jack liked a flutter on the horses.
He and his brother Frank would visit the races and shadow the big horse trainers.
He noticed they seldom backed their own horses.
Jack and Frank would bet the same horses, and win!
Our family always had a flutter on the Grand National.
In 1967 we all picked our choices.
The family studied the form, I at 11 looked at the numbers.
I figured 100 to 1 sounded good!
Everybody laughed, but I went ahead.
Jack took everybody's money and the bets were placed.
Foinavon, my choice won!
£50 was a lot of money then! LOL!

My Nana really took a shine to Jack.
He would sit with her and talk about this that and the other.
Nana was ill and as her health deteriorated in 1970 we kew she was gravely ill.
On one of his visits as jack sat with Nana she drew him close and asked him to promise he would look after Madge and Denise....he promised.
On June 17th, 1970, Nana died.

On November 1st Uncle Jack and mum were married, the day before mum's birthday.

We moved to a bungalow and after a couple of years we all moved to Guisborough, Dad's home.
Mum and I loved this change although by this time I was at University.

Mum and Dad were both still working at ICI.

Dad had a very stressful job and in 1983 he suffered a massive heart attack.
It resulted in him having to stop work.
In those days ICI was one of the best emloyers, with very good benefits.
Both Dad and Mum left with "Golden Handshakes".
Mum decided to leave in order to ensure Dad had the rest he was to need.

Dad was a country boy by heart, a "woolly back" as referred to here.
He loved the Moors and the country life.
As a child he would often bring home rabbits and pheasants he had caught with his catapult.
Happy with their bungalow in Guisborough, they bought a static caravan at Rosedale Abbey.
They loved to visit and stay whenever they had the time.
Infact, the photograph above was indeed taken in the caravan, by mum.

On the morning of August 13th 1986, whilst staying at the caravan,
Dad told mum he would prefer go home.
He wasn't feeling very well.
They had planned on going to Egton Country Show, one of their all time favourites.

They packed up and set off for home.
It would have been a very busy day on the roads.
Holiday traffic. The Whitby to Guisborough Road in particular!

As the car passed Gisborough Hall, Dad brought the car to a stop and slumped forward.

He had died.

I was teaching in Nottingham at the time.

I received the news later that afternoon and returned home the following day.

This was to be a turning point in my life.
I was to return home and look after mum.

I had a fantastic relationship with Dad, he was indeed my Dad.
Notice how he suddenly evolved as Dad from Uncle Jack?
It was the same in our relationship.
I don't know when it happened, it just did.
Dad recounted the event to mum..he had cried at the time, privately, with pride and love.


I often sit in Dad's chair and remember him.





When Dad was at school he learned the poem " Meg Merilles" off by heart.
This he would recite when his teacher asked the class to stand up, one by one and sing.
Dad was incredibly shy as well as tone deaf, this was his contribution.

Somewhere I have a poem I wrote for him one Father's Day and it starts..
"Old Jack he was a woolly back and lived upon the Moors...."

Until I find it, here is the poem in it's original form, for Dad!

Meg Merrilies

Old Meg she was a gypsy;
And liv'd upon the moors:
Her bed it was the brown heath turf,
And her house was out of doors.

Her apples were swart blackberries,
Her currants, pods o' broom;
Her wine was dew of the wild white rose,
Her book a church-yard tomb.

Her brothers were the craggy hills,
Her sisters larchen trees;
Alone with her great family
She liv'd as she did please.

No breakfast had she many a morn,
No dinner many a noon,
And 'stead of supper she would stare
Full hard against the moon.

But every morn, of woodbine fresh
She made her garlanding,
And every night the dark glen yew
She wove, and she would sing.

And with her fingers old and brown
She plaited mats o' rushes,
And gave them to the cottagers
She met among the bushes.

Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen,
And tall as Amazon:
An old red blanket cloak she wore,
A chip hat had she on.
God rest her aged bones somewhere —
She died full long agone!

John Keats

ABC.....well D, E, F!

I am the blonde in the middle, with the sensible sandals on!




D is for....DENISE, Auntie DOT and a near DEATH experience!
I love telling stories. When I am teaching I love to use examples from my own childhood/life to illustrate a point.
I have always wanted to write a book, it would be called “The Amazing Adventures of Flossy Flupipe…why? Read on!
In my work as a teacher I come across many children who are going through a particular bad time at home.
More and more children have to deal with broken relationships and parental problems. I know how they feel!
By the age of 5 my parents were divorced. At an early age I decided to try and make my mum proud of me.....
I didn't always get it right, but I tried. When parents come to me and say their child is being difficult/rude/cheeky/dis-interested because of problems at home it doesn't really wash with me, and the children know this.
They too have the choice to either make their parent(s) proud...or not!
Flossyflupipe was the name my mum called me, and my book is going to be about the early years of my life...............................hence the title!
The amazing adventures of flossy flupipe!
Enjoy!
My mum was the middle child, having two elder sisters and two younger brothers.
Starting with the oldest the running order went like this.... Joan, Doreen (Dot) Marjorie, Robert, (Bob) and Stanley (Stan) My nana was Elizabeth Ellen, my Grandad was Robert Charles.
My grandad originated from Thetford, Norfolk and my nana came from Germany. Her maiden name was Schumacher. Her father had fled Germany when all the troubles of the First World War started. He did not support the Nazi's and wanted to give the family a better start in life. He was a clockmaker and he set up his business in York. Sadly when the war started his shop was targeted by anti-Nazi protestors and the windows were often stoned. Eventually he moved further north.
Nana and Grandad had an ice-cream round which they did from the back of a horse. Eventually grandad worked in the steelworks. He was a passionate gardener and allowed me to grow some flowers. He was the character Mr Green finger in a children's story I wrote called Cedric the Caterpillar. In my story Mr Green finger grew flowers for Mrs Green finger’s windowsill...just as grandad had always done.
My nana was the home maker. Her role was to bring up the children, look after the home and ensure there was always a good meal at the table.
Out of the five children mum was the one who had an aptitude for learning and secured a place at secretarial college.
This was to be her tool of escape in later years.
Education was her passport and it allowed her to make a choice!
I was to use this knowledge myself and pass the secret on to others!

Mum enjoyed her work as a typist and worked in a Solicitor's Office.
Her best friend, Enid and she would always enjoy their times out together.
It was on such an occasion she met Jim, James or whatever!
He was a roofer. Says it all!
Mum was infatuated with him and took him to meet nana and grandad.
They didn't take to him.
As the relationship developed his intentions became apparent.
Nana and grandad did not want mum to marry him.
Mum married him!

Now the interesting fact here is that they were married in September 1955....
9 months later Denise Elizabeth was born!
I often asked mum if she was pregnant when she got married, she always denied it.....but I still wonder.
Mum married him!

It wasn't long into the marriage that things started going wrong.

He was a heavy drinker and a womaniser.
He was also violent.

I do have a fear of stairs even to this day.
This is because he pushed me down the stairs, be it accidentally when I was 2 or 3.
Even if it was as a result of him being drunk and careless, at that age it was quite frightening for me.

He had his own business and the money management was not helped by his bouts of drinking....so he went bankrupt!
Mum was home alone one day when there was a visit from some not so nice people....the
Bailiffs.
They stripped the home leaving only a bed and a chair. They even took my toy pushchair which nana and grandad had bought me a few days earlier.

Mum had spoken to Grandad about the home situation, but his words had been...
"We told you he was no good...you've made your bed now lie in it!"

The stress of everything was telling on mum.
As the home situation was not good to bring up a baby, moi, I was moved to live with Auntie Dot & Uncle Moss. They lived in a terraced house in Eston.
I remember going for a walk with Auntie Dot and she pointed to a window in the town's hospital. My mum was waving.
Unbeknown to me she had suffered a nervous breakdown.
It was through mental and physical exhaustion.
She was living still in Stockton, travelling extensive distances on the bus each day to work, and then calling to see me every night.
Shortly after mum bought a house in the next street. She had borrowed the deposit from her 2 brothers, Uncle Bob and Uncle Stan. She left my natural father and divorce proceedings were started..
Auntie Dot and Uncle Moss met through work. They both worked on the buses. Uncle Moss was a driver and Auntie Dot was a conductress. They had no children. I don't know what the arrangements were i.e. if Auntie Dot stopped working in order to look after me, or if she had all ready stopped work. But she was there for me whilst mum worked. From the age of 5 I would get up on a morning for breakfast, go to school and after school I would have my tea and then watch television whilst waiting for mum. Mum would collect me and I would spend a few hours with her at our own house, 61 West Street. Around 9pm, Mum would take me back to 57 William Street where I would have a wash or bath and then go to bed. On a weekend Mum collected me on a Friday evening and I spent the entire weekend with her, returning on a Sunday evening ready for school. When mum had holidays I would stay with her. The arrangements stayed like this and we were all happy. here were times when I missed my mum and let it be known, but on the whole everybody had my best interests at heart and we soldiered on.

One of the great events was when Uncle Moss bought a car. An Austin A35.
Uncle Moss's driving had to be experienced to be believed! Being a bus driver he assumed he always had the right of way. He also had the ability to smoke whilst driving, drop his cigarette, set himself on fire, continue driving, somehow have a small fire somewhere about his person and arrive at his destination completely unscathed by the episode. One of the most vivid recollections is of him driving up Saltburn bank. Mum and Auntie Dot were in the rear of the car and I was in the front passenger seat. It was the age of cigarettes and all 3 adults were smoking.
Uncle Moss, as per usual dropped his cigarette into his lap and as the smell of the singing trousers alerted and alarmed the rest of us he started fumbling around to find the burning cigarette. Of course he couldn't see as he was watching the road and burnt his fingers on the lighted cigarette which was in his lap. For a moment he lost his concentration, missed a gear and the car started rolling backwards down Saltburn bank! I was panic stricken, gasping for breath anyway as I battled to get some air in the smoke filled car as it rolled backwards! I could see the sea and had visions of us ending up in it! Fortunately Uncle Moss, still singing away managed to gain control and brought the car to a halt. He found the right gear and we carried on, be it Uncle Moss arriving home with several holes in his trousers and a telling off from Auntie Dot!






E is for Elizabeth, Elizabeth Elen to be precise, my nana, or grandma a term many of you will use more frequently. My middle name was after nana and our middle goose, Dolly was named again in memory of this great person.

My mum's mum, (my nana) was a Schumacher.
ie, her maiden name was Schumacher before she married my grandad, a farmer from Thetford in Norfolk, when her name changed to "Self"
Her dad was german and moved to England when the unrest in Germany started.
He was a clockmaker.
He moved his family to York, where he had a clockmaking shop.

When the war started he had his shop windows smashed repeatedly, so he moved his family.

I wonder if I am related to the legend F1 driver?

As I explained , mum secured a job as a secretary at ICI Wilton when I was a child. Whilst she was there she met Jack, a great friend who took a shine to mum and wanted to help her get the house sorted. As electronics was his speciality he helped with the re-wiring and other electrical stuff!

Mum eventually introduced him to her own parents.
My Grandad, a man of few words took him out for a walk!
He wanted to know his intentions as Mum had been through so much.
Jack assured him he had her and mine best interests at heart.
Grandad was re-assured and a great friendship was kindled between them.


My Nana really took a shine to Jack.
He would sit with her and talk about this that and the other.
Nana was ill and as her health deteriorated in 1970 we kew she was gravely ill.
On one of his visits as jack sat with Nana she drew him close and asked him to promise he would look after Madge and Denise....he promised.
On June 17th, 1970, Nana died.

I rember nana quite vividly. The storiesour family recall show a family, who, although surrounded by adversity and limited funds had a rich dialogue of their exploits which remain with me to this day. I guess this is where I get my love of story telling from. Tears would flow down our cheeks as each family member recalled events, which however sad were always laughed through, with great understanding.

I remember nana always in the kitchen cooking, fatty cakes, a very basic scone mixture served with gravy.

I still use her green gravy jug which has been used for the same purpose for 3 generations.

I guess I have to keep to some chronological format and write more about my early years.I am going to have to set the scene and this means I have to tackle F for Father.

Me, the blonde in the middle!

F is for family Fortunes...Dream On!

Junk mail is a common place in the everyday life in the Nesbitt household. This day was no different.
The letter arrived, addressed to me and I glanced over the contents before tossing it to one side.
Did they think I was stupid?
They were after my money, that wasall!
Well dream on soldier, you’ve picked the wrong one here.
I had visions of people all over the UK getting similar letters.
Watchdog would be featuring it as the latest scam…hey I may even be on TV!
The letter was left on the work surface and I carried on with my morning jobs.
Jon came home at lunch time and as we had a cup of tea I remembered the letter.
I showed it to him and we both laughed.
Sure, somebody was trying to trace a Denise Nesbitt! LOL!
There was a number to call…yes right!
No doubt premium rate…yes yes, heard it all before.
Seemed a normal number,
I called.
Answer machine……
I left a message.
Went to the shops.

On my return Jon said there had been a phone call….could I phone again!

Asked for the name on the bottom of the letter…..

A conversation followed, mentioning certain names, dates and circumstances…..I indeed was the Denise Nesbitt somebody was trying to trace.

There have been only a few moments in my life which has deemed me speechless….but this was certainly one of them.

It would seem the family of my biological male parent were wanting to contact me.

I use the words biological male parent with particular care and deliberation. Notice I do not use the words natural father, because he could never be that! People often use the word “natural” as a compliment, as in being a “natural teacher” or “She’s a natural you know!”


NO, certainly not a natural father, he never knew what it meant as he never owned up to the responsibility, choosing instead a life of drink and violence, having several affairs bringing about his business going bankrupt.

I do remember however his mother, my nana from Hull. I also remember her grand daughter; my cousin I suppose called Pattie.

Silence.

I didn’t know what to say.

Panic!

There was a phone number given to me.
I wrote it down.


Eventually I drummed up the courage to make the phone call.

Pattie’s mum. Brenda.

Apparently nana from Hull had always wanted to know how I was getting on and in deed wanted to get in touch.

Following a re-union on some programme or other she had written a letter to the BBC asking them to find me.
The letter was never delivered as she was involved in a traffic accident on route to the post box.
She died with the letter still on her person.

Her daughter, Pattie’s mother was now finishing the quest her own mother had set out to achieve.

When I spoke she cried.
I have that effect on some people, but I did find myself with a lump in my throat.

All these years, people had been thinking about me.



Then she told me….he was still alive.

Well, they say the good die young and this could not have been so true.
When I think of all the lovely family and friends who we have lost and to think HE was still alive beggars belief.

“Your Dad…”
“No, he’s not my Dad” I spoke quickly, didn’t want to utter the words.

Apparently HE has a photo of me as a young child!
Big Deal eh!

I thought of MY DAD, Jack, who had looked after mum and I, helping mum to build a life following the dreadful divorce and nervous breakdown…….I felt I was betraying him, by having this conversation.
Panic again!

Sensing my rising hysteria Brenda assured me she was doing this for her mum, nana from Hull, HE didn’t feature.
“Let’s keep it that way!” I insisted.

Phew!

She was overjoyed, ecstatic, thrilled and emotional.

I was miffed.
Touched yes, people had been thinking and wondering about me.

Brenda gave me Pattie’s number.
“She’d love to hear from you Denise.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

I called….
Tears again, Denise, it’s you…it’s you!

There followed some moments of recollection, memories remembered and shared.


She asked me if there was anything she could do.

Yes….never ever let HIM know you have spoken to me.

I begged.

This was scary!

She assured me.

“Do you have any photographs?” I asked.

She said she would have a look.

I left her my phone number.

To have all of this unfolding was all too much for me to deal with.

That night I talked extensively with Jon…….
What I intended to do…..was it confrontation? Humiliation? Annihilation?

I needed some time to think.

A couple of weeks later Pattie phoned me.
“Pattie, Pattie who?”
I had completely forgotten.
“Your long lost cousin Pattie!”

Oh yes,it all came flooding back.

I explained how, in my own heart and conscience I could never ever have any contact with “him” How, I had a Dad, a proper Dad my own Dad who I had loved, respected, adored and now sorely missed.
I didn’t want to know of “him” how he was, how he had been, I wasn’t in the least bit moved by the fact he had a photograph of me, it meant nothing.
Keeping a photograph in a pocket does not display any great parental quality, it meant absolutely nothing, I wasn’t touched, moved or even bothered,.





The opportunity to reflect came in the form of our wonderful holiday.
In my mind, in my own little world, as we travelled around on the motorbike I pieced together bits and pieces, trying to comprehend the situation, planning how to deal with it all.

I guess a bit like osmosis the important bits filtered through, the rest has simply washed away.

Nothing has changed.

One thing I did realise was the fact that I am Denise Nesbitt. I have no part of any of His name anymore. As a child I just had the name of a person I never knew, only feared. The name stayed until I was married, when I had a choice, when I embraced the name of Mrs Nesbitt. I remember my class of 7 year olds practising, on the first registration following our wedding they all said together, “Good Morning Mrs. Nesbitt!” It brought a lump in my throat.

There may be the odd phone call from Pattie, but that is it. That’s all there will ever be.

I have got this far with those who are with me and have loved me.
I don’t need anything else.

"May the East fling open your windows,
and fill your rooms with air;
May the South send you strong sunshine,
and give you the strength to dare;
May the West wash rivers into your heart,
and oceans into your soul;
May the North share the secrets and gifts of the earth,
to heal and make you whole."
M. Flanders

Auntie Dot and Uncle Moss.

Auntie Dot and Uncle Moss met through work. They both worked on the buses. Uncle Moss was a driver and Auntie Dot was a conductress. They had no children. I don't know what the arrangements were ie if Auntie Dot stopped working in order to look after me, or if she had all ready stopped work. But she was there for me whilst mum worked. From the age of 5 I would get up on a morning for breakfast, go to school and after school I would have my tea and then watch television whilst waiting for mum. Mum would collect me and I would spend a few hours with her at our own house, 61 West Street. Around 9pm, Mum would take me back to 57 William Street where I would have a wash or bath and then go to bed. On a weekend Mum collected me on a Friday evening and I spent the entire weekend with her, returning on a Sunday evening ready for school. When mum had holidays I would stay with her. The arrangements stayed like this and we were all happy. here were times when I missed my mum and let it be known, but on the whole everybody had my best interests at heart and we soldiered on.

One of the great events was when Uncle Moss bought a car. An Austin A35.





Uncle Moss's driving had to be experienced to be believed! being a bus driver he assumed he always had the right of way. He also had the ability to smoke whilst driving, drop his cigarette, set himself on fire, continue driving, somehow have a small fire somewhere about his person and arrive at his destination completely unscathed by the episode. One of the most vivid recollections is of him driving up Saltburn bank. Mum and Auntie Dot were in the rear of the car and I was in the front passenger seat. It was the age of cigarettes and all 3 adults were smoking.
Uncle Moss, as per usual dropped his cigarette into his lap and as the smell of the singing trousers alerted and alarmed the rest of us he started fumbling around to find the burning cigarette. Of course he couldn't see as he was watching the road and burnt his fingers on the lighted cigarette which was in his lap. For a moment he lst his concentration, missed a gear and the car started rolling backwards down Saltburn bank! I was panic stricken, gasping for breath anyway as I battled to get some air in the smoke filled car as it rolled backwards! I could see the sea and had visions of us ending up in it! Fortunately Uncle Moss, still singing away manged to gain control and brought the car to a halt. He found the right gear and we carried on, be it Uncle Moss arriving home with several holes in his trousers and a telling off from Auntie Dot!

Let's start at the very beginning!

Greetings!

I have re-jigged a few posts so the writing appears in chronological order.
Notice the dates, you will see how long this has taken.

Monday, January 01, 2007

Let's start at the very beginning!

Let's start at the very beginning!

My mum was the middle child, having two elder sisters and two younger brothers.
Starting with the oldest the running order went like this.... Joan, Doreen (Dot) Marjorie, Robert, (Bob) and Stanley (Stan) My nana was Elizabeth Ellen, my Grandad was Robert Charles.
My grandad originated from Thetford, Norfolk and my nana came from Germany. Her maiden name was Schumacher. Her father had fled Germany when all the troubles of the first world war started. He did not support the Nazi's and wanted to give the family a better start in life. He was a clockmaker and he set up his business in York. Sadly when the war started his shop was targetted by anti-natzi protestors and the windows were often stoned. Eventually he moved further North.
Nana and Grandad had an ice-cream round which they did from the back of a horse. Eventually grandad worked in the steelworks. He was a passionate gardener and allowed me to grow some flowers. He was the character Mr Greenfinger in a children's story I wrote called Cedric the Caterpillar. In my story Mr Greenfinger grew flowers for Mrs Greenfinger's windowsill...just as grandad had always done.
My nana was the home maker. Her role was to bring up the children, look after the home and ensure there was always a good meal at the table.
Out of the five children mum was the one who had an aptitude for learning and secured a place at secretarial college.
This was to be her tool of escape in later years.
Education was her passport and it allowed her to make a choice!
I was to use this knowledge myself and pass the secret on to others!

Carrying on...23.01.07

Mum enjoyed her work as a typist and worked in a Solicitor's Office.
Her best friend, Enid and her would always enjoy their times out together.
It was on such an occasion she met Jim, James or whatever!
He was a roofer. Says it all!
Mum was infatuated with him and took him to meet nana and grandad.
They didn't take to him.
As the relationship developed his intentions became aparant.
Nana and grandad did not want mum to marry him.
Mum married him!

Now the interesting fact here is that they were married in September 1955....
9 months later Denise Elizabeth was born!
I often asked mum if she was pregnant when she got married, she always denied it.....but I still wonder.

Where was I?.

Oh yes!
Mum married him!

It wasn't long into the marriage that things started going wrong.

He was a heavy drinker and a womaniser.
He was also violent.

I do have a fear of stairs even to this day.
This is because he pushed me down the stairs, be it accidentally when I was 2 or 3.
Even if it was as a result of him being drunk and careless, at that age it was quite frightening for me.

He had his own business and the money management was not helped by his bouts of drinking....so he went bankrupt!
Mum was home alone one day when there was a visit from some not so nice people....the

bayliffs.
They stripped the home leaving only a bed and a chair. They even took my toy pushchair which nana and grandad had bought me a few days earlier.

Mum had spoken to Grandad about the home situation, but his words had been..
"We told you he was no good...you've made your bed now lie in it!"


To be continued.

Reading the above does not upset me by the way.

This is my life, it happened. I am here telling the tale!
Stuff happens in life.....it is what makes our life!

Back soon!

So as Grandad had put his foot down, Mum had to take action!

The stress of everything was telling on mum.
As the home situation was not good to bring up a baby, moi, I was moved to live with Auntie Dot & Uncle Moss. They lived in a terraced house in Eston.
I remember going for a walk with Auntie Dot and she pointed to a window in the town's hospital. My mum was waving.
Unbeknown to me she had suffered a nervous breakdown.
It was through mental and physical exhaustion.
She was living still in Stockton, travelling extensive distances on the bus each day to work, and then calling to see me every night.

Shortly after mum bought a house in the next street. She had borrowed the deposit from her 2 brothers, Uncle Bob and Uncle Stan. She left my natural father and divorce proceedings were started. Mum was working at ICI as a secretary. It was to unfold the next stage of our lives. A stage which would bring happiness and security to us both.