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As the youngest of four I longed to be allowed to stay home alone so my best memories are of the times that happened - I would dance like no one was watching (because they weren't!) & do my idea of gymnastics in the era of Olga Korbut. Actually another great memory was when we went on a school trip to watch some gymnastics at Wembley &, from where we were seated, we could see into the warm-up/practise area where we spotted her - she saw us watching & waved! Cue lots of over-excited little girls, lol

Leaving after breakfast with a picnic on my bike with instructions to be back by 5pm for tea during the summer holidays - freedom! Exploring woods and countryside, castles and town. No phone or GPS in those days!

Sitting on my grandfathers lap, hands in his armpits to warm them up, I always suffered from cold hands and feet. And playing noughts and crosses with him using a small stub of pencil.

Going to my Great grandmothers house where all the family would gather on a Sunday afternoon and sing together. My Grandad and brothers were in male voice choirs so it was quite something to hear.

My favourite childhood memory is the precious time I spent with my wonderful grandparents. I wish I could spend just 5 more minutes with them just to tell them how much I love them

Being in my grandmother's garden with chickens, fruit bushes and trees and lots of veg. Wonderful, especially when the raspberries were fruiting.

tea parties at Grans where we would have ours under the table in our little den

One Christmas when the whole family got together for a meal at a pub in Wales.
I still get a lovely feeling when I think about it!

Going to the berries ( raspberry picking)

My grandfather was a fruitless and had been a travelling hawker. He had spent a lot of time in the northeast travelling between our own town and whitby over the moors. I would work in his shop for a shilling wages as a child. I sat on a sack of potatoes with a big knife cutting the leaves off the faces of the xaulufliwers for display. Then scooping the potatoes out of the sacks to tip into the display racks because i was about 6 or 7 i obviously couldnt lift sacks of anything high into racks so i had to handball everything bit by bit I remember building the window display with old plywood boxes turned upside down build up over like seats at a football ground then covering them with artificial turf then displaying the beautiful navel oranges and the grapefruit and satsumad etc etc.
Then it was turn to stack the piles of trays of eggs I got out of huge boxes*I never remember breaking any)
My grandfather was so patient with me I loved to watch him bank the old coal fire up in the back of the shop it sealed to take forever. Whilst i would be squeezing my arms around me to keep warm whilst he took out yesterday's ashes sweeping every little bit then screwing the newspapers and placing bits of kindling from the said plywood boxes I think tomatoes came in them. Then the pieces of coal strategically placed on the top.
Once it took a grip it would be a roaring fire sitting in front of it smelling the coal and burning hot but never moved further bag. Sat drinking a mug of warmed milk with bournville chocolate powder in. I worked hard but oh I so enjoyed those treats . Then when the weekend came we would go in the back of granddad van to whitby. I adored the pkace. The salty smells and the very loud seagulls firebombing us and sqwarking loudly above us.
Eating chips and candy floss and ice cream it's a wonder I wasn' t sick. Then cinder toffee or rock to take home for pressies for my parents.
When i lost my grandad my dreams were shattered. The family sold the shop. And all i had were memories. But really good memories. I can still smell the fire.

Walking along Blackpool beach collecting pretty seashells with my mum and dad then making a lovely sandcastle and placing the seashells on the castle until the sea came in and washed them all away happy memories

Waiting for my mum and dad to bring my new ( soon to be adopted by them) baby sister home. To my seven year old self this was all I had been wishing for.

Going to Butlins, Filey with my mum, dad and sister on holiday and one day entering the talent show and not telling them. The look on their faces was priceless as they watched me sing on the largest stage on one level in Europe. I didn’t win but I did get to the final!

Trips to the coast. Making sandcastles with my dad & always a ride on the Merry go Round.

Listening to my grandad when he was a cook on the ship in the first world war. what tales he told.

riding on the back shelf in Dads lorry behind his head, our own little den!

The hours spent outside. Our garden, on my bike, friends round to play, exploring for hours, skipping rope across the cul- de- sac, scooter and roller skates, collecting bags full of conkers .. the freedom.

One of my favourite child hood memories is of me,my sister, my two girl and our lovely grandad walking along the old farm paths pushing an old home made barrow made from offcuts of wood and pram tyres collecting horse manure . My grandad could spot a pile from miles off and would point ahead with his walking stick. We used to fight as to who’s turn it was to shovel and who got to push the precious cargo . I can see him now in his old blue cardigan that my grandma had patched and darned so many times. Happy days

Sitting in the cornfield at the end of our garden, in the sunshine, working my way through a half a pound block of butter before my parents found me! I was three at the time, and I can still smell the fresh air. My dad (85) loves reminding me. Oh yes I still love butter if I get the chance!

I lived in a London suburb during World War 2 and during one air-raid our windows were blown out and some ceilings down; it was normal to spend nights in our air-raid shelter, in fear of bombing and waiting for the 'All Clear' siren to sound so we could go back to bed. One year my Father took me on the train to stay with my Godmother at her farm near Chesterfield for the summer holidays, and it was idyllic to be free of air-raids, not need
to have my Gas-mask with me all the time, and enjoy lovely meals - they did not seem to have any food rationing on the farm as we did at home! That was a very favourite memory from my childhood.

My best childhood memory is from the very rare times we would go on a family holiday. Never abroad, money was far too short for that. Mum and dad could only just about stretch to a week at my Aunty Joans caravan in Wales once every 3 years or so.

The caravan wasn't on a site and had no amenities; just a basic caravan in the middle of a plot of land, right in front of the sand dunes. The four of us kids always had such a brilliant time, without the need for money. There was a swing next to the caravan which provided us with hours of entertainment. There were board games in the cupboard for once we had tired ourselves out and were ready for bed. I vividly remember that the cupboard under the sink held such treasures as tennis bats and balls and a rounders bat.
We all slept like logs every night because of the fresh sea air and in the mornings I would lie awake listening to mum and dad talking, not being able to make out what they were saying, but just enjoying the gentle hum of them speaking, it was very comforting.
Sadly, both of my brothers are dead now and I lost mum and dad within 5 months of each other, both due to dementia, but I will always remember our family holidays with a smile. .

My favourite childhood memory was New Year 1997, we had all the family over and we played board games and karaoke I was 9 at the time but it was one of the best nights

Meeting my friend Pat 45 years ago and sticking together through the laughter & the tears of life.

Fields full of buttercup, bluebell, cowslip ...
Purposefully planting a dried apple pip ...
Telling the time with round dandelion clocks ...
Playing barefoot after losing my socks ...
Forging long chains formed of delicate daisy ...
Counting the clouds beneath blue sky so hazy ...
Studying beetles and squealing at spiders ...
Stealing away from the watcher beside us ...
Rolling around fresh green grass, newly mown ...
Chanting to ladybirds “Fly away home.”

Chiming church bells on a clear afternoon ....
Learning to whistle, though seldom in tune ....
A jingle of shillings; the gas man is due ....
That scrape of the sweep as he brushes the flue ....
Noisy near neighbours who frequently fight ...
Trying to block out the bad words and spite ....
Radio programmes for children at leisure ....
Uncle Mack’s Favourites, a Saturday pleasure ...
The rallying call of the ragman with treats ...
The guilt as I trade him my new shoes for sweets.

Salt on my lips as I run round the beach …
Plucking ripe plums - though the best’s out of reach …
Refusing cold cabbage and soggy school bread …
Re-using the bubble gum beneath my bed …
Shocking pink slices of coconut ice …
Gobstoppers last twice as long at the price …
Icecream at weekends – I stay with my Gran
Mum says not to spoil me - Gran says that she can ...
Hot cocoa at bedtime, and bedtime’s at seven ...
Grumbling ‘cos grown-ups stay up past eleven.

Socks that are soggy through wellies that leak ...
The harshness of hailstones hitting my cheek ...
Much mended mittens and second hand coat ...
Scratchy wool scarf irritates neck and throat ...
Sliding and gliding on icy cold days ...
Chapped hands and feet - such a small price to pay ...
Warm smells of puppyhood, wrinkled and crinkly ...
A welcoming wetness of tongue licking pinkly ...
The anguish and grief as he sighs his last breath ...
My pet has been stolen by something called Death.

Reading and ‘rithmetic, spidery writing ...
Using a proper pen nib is exciting ...
Pink blotting paper and blue fingertips ...
Smudgy ink stains reaching noses and lips ...
Painting and plasticine, scissors and Gloy ...
Hopscotch and skipping games, shouting for joy ...
Conkers and ollies, a new top and whip ...
Climbing the monkey bars, hurts if I slip ...
Scraping my scabby shins on roller skates ...
Counting the endless days till I reach eight.

Going to london for our holidays where my mums brothers and sister lived .We stayed at my grandma and grandads house in Borehamwood near Elstree studios .The trips were a big adventure for me and my brother.