A Journey to the End of the world

I remember one day deciding with a friend that we would explore the very edge of our world. We jumped on our bicycles and set off resolutely in that general direction. After about 15-minutes, we had already entered an entirely new world about which we knew only rumor. Here, there were supposed to be roaming gangs that if they caught you, would carry you off to their secret lairs in the ‘blackgang’. We felt, well, very brave to have gone so far and to be in someone else’s territory. Parking our bikes by the side of the street, we entered some gardens discovering a veritable paradise of willow trees and grass surrounding a small private pond. It was magical and it was someone else’s secret garden as we had hauled

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Conversing With Santa

As a little lad, we lived in west Hull. It was a typical terrace house in a street called Westlands Road. No. 8 to be precise. My Dad added extensions to it here and there so a new kitchen extension and a front porch. The front porch was where the telephone was. Back then, telephones were black and had a handset that sat on a body with a rotary dialer. They made a nice sound when you turned that dialer! Like most little kids I suppose, I was obsessed with the phone. Every chance I got, I was there, in the porch, playing with the phone. One day, I guess I must have dialed just the right number of times a number that truly existed. I recall being a bit amazed

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