Thursday, 8 September 2016
Around the Village Green (1937)
I know it's a little stupid to yearn for the days of TB and "knowing your place" but my childhood was a little like this and I miss it. I learned to write on a chalkboard, fished for tadpoles and watched the old men with their pipes sat outside the pub. Where everyone knew their neighbours and steps were scrubbed once a week. On the other hand, I also remember that the houses were black with soot and those old men coughed like bust boilers.