How I Learned
To Love my Wellies
My Mam once told my wife Joan that I could not fasten my shoe laces and so wore wellies. I deny this but now everyone believes this to be true, so I am now writing a book with stories and sketches from my childhood days.
Below are a few examples from the book.
My Mam worked in a local grocery store and she persuaded the owner to give me a job delivering groceries.
The problem with the bike was that when you turned one way the basket wanted to go the other way meaning that I regularly hit the road, with my wellies, bananas, and eggs being scattered all over.
I would then put the eggs back. hiding them down the basket and continue on my way. I generally got a tip at each house but rode away fast before they reached the eggs.
My First Big Bike
My Dad came in from work one day with a second hand two wheeler bike from someone he worked with. It actually was a decent bike with racing tyres and five gears, but there was a problem.
I couldn’t get my wellies to stay in the pedal guards, actually there were two problems, I couldn’t ride a bike.
So for what felt like hours my Dad pushed me up and down the road, his pipe smoking like mad, until magically I was riding by myself. The blood from my scraped knees washed off easily.
Mam We're Home
Over the long days of school holidays the kids of our generation would leave home early morning and eventually return home at tea time.
We would have roamed for miles, trespassing on the nearby railway lines and works, playing football or cricket down the nearby fields, fighting each other for possession of any ill gotten gains, and trying to avoid girls.
When our Mams opened the door they were greeted with the sight of two scruffy boys who were usually worn out but very happy.