Do you remember the little things that were oh so 'brilliant'? Like... playing on the local park?

...my local park wasn't all that local, not to a toddler anyway. It was miles away from home, from my street.

My street had little by way of any traffic, not even human traffic except when the 'kids' were out and playing, oh yeah, and for when a ginger haired guy appeared with his deep roaring motorbike appeared...and at one evening each week when people in black congregated outside our front window with their bright shiny instruments and proceeded to play some tunes before marching off to entertain elsewhere...

My street, in the late 50s, wasn't in anyway shape or form much different from all the other 'working class' streets spread all over the north of England...Row upon row of condemned terrace houses usually with a shop of some kind propping up each corner...the front doors would open and you'd pass through it, over the step...bit of an oddity that front step...'don't stand on it!' was always the order shouted out by most adults...so you didn't, so in reality, being only a toddler, I never quite made the stride over the step, I either jumped or fell over it into the street...mostly, I'd be wounded with a bang on my head from falling, or suffer a ricked ankle from the great leap to freedom over that precious step...nobody seemed to unduly care, as long as that precious step din't have a dirty footprint on it, the world was well.

My street had plenty of front doors, but rarely would you see anyone come from beyond them...most weeks you'd hear the shout of 'Raaag Bone!'...along with the clip clop of a horse pulling a cart filled to high heaven with...all sorts. People, mostly women, would appear as if from nowhere, ladened with, all sorts, and the guy who did the shouting would swap the 'all sorts' for what looked like a light brown (dark yellow?) stone...and that stone contained the most ....never understood why the tradition of rubbing it on a front step ever came about....still, if the guy leading the horse and cart got to the main road at the top of the street and magically turned left...I was in for a treat!!!

My street, it was miles away from the local park...and it was a place I was told 'never to go on your own' to, repeatedly, as I was told 'not to go down to the canal, not ever' repeatedly too....

Well, what do you do if you're told not to do something?

My street was my haven, I loved it...but just sometimes an inquisitive child has a need to explore...

If I was in my street and that horse and cart turned left at the end of it, then off I went, closely followed by 'our' Vic... (if they turned right, then they would have had to cross the busy road, and even I knew that the 'Raaag Bone' man, being an adult, wouldn't hesitate in telling me to 'get back home')

'Our' (back then, everything and everybody that was a close member of the immediate family was an 'our', yep, it was 'our' toilet, 'our' tin bath, our 'mary' or our 'tom') Vic was the complete nut job that was my grandparents dog...

If anything moved 'our' Vic would be after it...bark his head off, sometimes even standing in the middle of the road, stopping what traffic there was, while he yelled and whined at them, even, on occasion, leaping at the vehicles tires...he was totally mad that dog, but he was my pal, my mate, my side kick...wherever I roamed, Vic was always somewhere near...

As he was when I ran and ran to catch up with that horse and cart...

Being still only a toddler, there was no way that I'd be able to get up on that cart, although, I don't ever remember trying to get on it...having ran to catch up with it, I generally just walked behind it ....until it turned down the next street 'Raaaaag Bone' would be yelled out...and me and Vic would just carry on with our journey, carrying on down the busy main road...

My street was left miles behind...me and Vic would go into a shop or two, greeted with either a question or a smile or just simply ignored...I never had any money, at my age back then I didn't quite understand what money was, but if I got a smile I'd just raise my hand and as a result I'd often leave with something...a smile, my smile at least. can be just as good as any amount of money...a lesson that has always stayed with me, when in doubt, smile!

Probably, the adults were use to me just walking around on my own with 'our' Vic, I never can recall being told off by anyone, nobody dared try and take hold of my hand because 'our' Vic didn't like it...he'd growl...and as he was completely insane, any feelings of protection towards me were more than likely instantly turned into 'self' protection on showing his disapproval...

There was bridge just before you were able to see the park and I always knew that once over it then all its pleasures that were waiting for me weren't that far away...

Unfortunately, most times I went on my journey to the park, there was a woman who steadfastly refused for me to proceed to go any further than her house, although, I wasn't aware that it was her house or not, she was quite fiercesome not one to mess with, not even to smile at and even my hero, 'our' Vic, never once attempted to come between her and me, his protection gone, either just standing there or whipping around and running off leaving me defenceless to whatever this woman chose to do or say...and I do quite clearly recall her having plenty to say, usually, loudly and that she also had a grip of iron...carrying me part way then thumping me down onto the pavement grabbing my hand continuing to frog marching me back to 'my street'.

She never took me home? Not once. Strange?

I never found out who she was, just this woman who put the fear of god into 'our' Vic and denied me of my pleasures of playing on the park...

But on the occasions she didn't appear me and 'our' Vic would get to cross over that bridge and face our last obstacle...crossing the main road.

Over the years there have been ways entered into in showing children how to safely cross the road...none, however, have included 'our' Vic, or any other dog.

If I ever wanted to cross a road, I'd just stand still at the edge, wait for 'our' Vic to cotton on to where I was and what I was doing and then...

He'd bark, yelp, jump up and down whilst barking and then just wander off onto the road and I'd follow...the traffic always but always use to stop...and he'd bark and pretend to rush at the cars, sometimes he didn't pretend, he actually would go for a wheel or two...and act as placid as anything when I had safely crossed to the other side...When out with the older kids or adults it took me ages to cross because 'our' Vic wasn't around and for some stupid reason you had to shake your head from side to side before you even set a foot on the road...weird.

OH the Joy of it when we would finally reach those park gates...which weren't like any 'gates' or 'doors' I had come across...I could never fathom them out...but luckily, the gates were made of rusty iron and had gaps between its poles for me and 'our' Vic to fit through...

OH, how we ran around, falling and rolling on the grass....the green of the grass, the way I could grab some of it and pull it up...the smell...the taste... sometimes bitter, sometimes almost milky....sometimes just flaky with no taste at all...I loved it and so too did 'our' Vic...sometimes we would be the only ones enjoying it all, imagine, a whole massive, massive, park, all to yourself...it was 'grand' it was it was it was brilliant, fantastic, and I was FREE....

I never, ever, liked the swings...couldn't get on them on my own, too small to pull myself up onto them, and if anyone ever put me on them, they would always insist in pushing me in the back...hard...the ONLY way I could communicate that I wasn't enjoying 'their' fun was to cry, loudly!

But that slide was altogether something else...imagine climbing up steps and NO adult calling after you, 'Hold onto this. hold onto that, watch your foot ' , bliss, I would sometimes fall back to the ground once or twice, feel a pain, momentarily, but I'd be up again and I'd make it to the top...what a sight it was...the grass, the trees, the sky...I did try to reach it. stretching up only with one hand, because like a 'good' boy I'd be gripping the slide rail like crazy with the other....even my little mind knew, that if falling off that front step could hurt, it sure would hurt if I fell off from the top step of a slide that was almost touching the sky!!!

Having surveyed the whole world and tried in vain to reach the sky I'd get myself to sit at the very top of the slide and there below would be 'our' Vic, watching, quickly have a glance around, as if looking for something before looking back up at me...he'd be barking, nothing new, he was completely insane...but then came the moment of untold of pleasure...the one push that was absolutely worth waiting for, off off off I go, giggingly and laughing as I slid down to 'my' mate 'our' Vic...the sensations that went through me as I travelled down that shiny small avenue of fun was just too good...I never stopped at one go, but had many, stopping because 'our' Vic was making a nuisance of himself, preventing anybody else coming near me or I was just tired and hungry!

The homeward journey was similar to the outward one, except I'd be incoherently chatting away to 'our' Vic about 'our' great visit to the park...

Back on 'my street' I knew I'd be in trouble if my mam was at that front door looking and shouting for me...which was the usual case...her slaps never bothered me and whatever she had to say,went in one ear, out the other...although she always grabbed hold of me afterwards, held me tight and kissed me...loved it ....however, that was all about to change.... her worse nightmare was yet to come, and so was mine...I had a 'swimming lesson' to come a little while later....I did mention a canal didn't I?....