Grandma to me was a very ancient old lady with white hair done up in a bun at the back. She wore a stiff black dress down to her ankles, probably made of bombazine, covered with a blue and white patterned pinafore. It was while my mother and father were living with grandma that I was born, in Bond Street nursing home. I do not remember this location because, almost immediately after I was born in 1925, my parents were granted a council house at 24 The Portwey. My sister Jessie has clear recollections of when she lived there, of walking round the corner to the police station that stood on Clarendon Park Road. Edward Road, Montague Road and St. Leonard’s Road are still in existence but Dysart Street, Curzon Street and the house on the road in Syston have long disappeared.
As a toddler we visited grandma regularly on a Thursday afternoon. After my birth we lived in Montague Road and were enrolled into new welfare schemes for infants. The infant welfare centre was in St. John the Baptist Church rooms, consequently when we moved to The Portwey we still attended “Welfare” at St. John’s and this was followed by a visit to grandma. Some of the events at the welfare centre I remember quite clearly. All mothers with children assembled in the big hall and were called in turn to the consulting rooms round the side, where the children were examined and weighed, and advice given about seeing a doctor or—for minor complaints—treatment given. After that we were assembled in the large hall again, and all mothers listened to a lecture on a subject like health, hygiene and baby care etc. All appointments were at two o’clock so consequently it entailed a great deal of waiting about and, while the mothers sat and chatted, children played with toys and games provided. My joy was to arrive early to get on an enormous rocking horse and to stay on it, until dispossessed by another child or parent. Fund-raising events were held regularly and I well remember the rummage sales in which you were likely to get toys which were unaffordable normally. One of these, a railway coach with opening doors and bogies I still remember, as I do the car which actually steered. The stalls were also the source of new sets of clothes, or material for making them. I remember vividly a suit manufactured by my mother made of grey moleskin which—because of its texture—I called my mouse suit. My age must have been between two and three years old.
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