English Winter
That’s just one of life’s bitter ironies…..

I remember when Beeching dug up our railway.
Winter in the North East of England. Dark, cold, windy, and a time to get another blanket on the bed. A well padded woman might be warmer. Or a hot water bottle…..
The best part about an English winter is not being here.
But, when I was a lad it was much, much colder at this time of year. Two pairs of socks inside one’s Wellington Boots, scarf, gloves balaclava helmet….. And that was indoors…..
We had one coal fire to heat a big 4 bedroom house, donated to my dad by the N.C.B. Except on Mondays when my mum also lit the fire underneath the big copper boiler in our back-kitchen, and that was the place to be when I got home from school.
School was fun, Bog Row Junior Mixed and Infants….. I kid you not. The toilets were across the school yard, usually frozen at this time of year.
I’d like to say that those were happy days Maybe they were.
~
jack collier
jackcollier7@talktalk.net
jeez I was a poor looking kid
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