A new life at 67.Can a woman start all over again?

 

My generation weren’t as perfect as we would like the young people of today to think.

A comment on a post that I have written jogged my memory and I feel I should shake off the dust and with any luck my Mum might be able to read my Blog from where she is and I will have a clearer conscience.

Money was very short when I was a kid.For a few years I went to school in Chertsey in Surrey,UK. It must have been when I was at an age between eight and eleven. There were no school buses and we had to pay for public transport.

It was a ten minute ride between Chertsey and Ottershaw where we lived.The bus service wasn’t too freqent and I had a wait of forty five minutes after school until the next bus came.(no pickups by parents in cars in those days)

I was a rather sickly, pampered only child and the thought of me waiting at the bus stop in knee socks and gaberdeen raincoat in winter horrified my Mother.

It so happened that right next to the bustop was The London Cafe, (Iwonder if it’s still there? ) and my Mother gave me a threepenny bit each day, which she definately couldn’t afford I realise now,and told me to go in and have a cup of tea until the bus came. Three pence of old money.

I don’t think I ever bought a cup of tea for right next door was a sweet shop with all it’s sublimely sickly persuasions.
Whether she ever suspected I will never know,if she did she didn’t let on and I wasn’t going to be fool enough to tell her.

Sorry Mum

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