Some excellent speeches were made in giving toasts appropriate to the occasion; and the time of the party was spent most agreeably until the hour for the departure of the train.”

Friday, 9 September 2011

We lived outside Blackpool, the famous north west England resort, but for our summer holiday we travelled to Bournemouuth on the south coast, where a close friend of my mother (known as Auntie Phyllis) had moved to open a hotel.

It was a long journey, before the days of motorways, though industrial Lancashire. My brother and I hated crossing the swing bridges over the Manchester Ship Canal at Wigan and Warrington with visions of them swinging around whilst we were on them. We would crouch down behind my parent's' seats and hide our eyes.

Another journey wasMy father was a commercial traveller (sales rep) for the Beecham Pharmaceutical Group and one ditty we came up with was:

There was a hermit in the hills

Living off his Beecham Pills

He ate two in the morning

And two at night

To make him feel so merry and bright.

We usually stopped somewehre for a picnic, prepared by my mother. One notable time, she excelled herslf by making chicken pieces instead of the usual sandwiches and a fruit tart - and left them all behind in the pantry! We had to stop somewhere and find a cafe for lunch. My father got the blame here, as he was always chivvering us get a move on and get away. We returned home a week later to discover them covered in fur.

Like all children,