[Brinty]

I have two distinct memories of my early years. One of which I saw evidence of for years, while the other one is completely impossible.

The first one is of when I was only a few months old. My mother had been nursing me and then lay me down on my stomach on my parents' double bed on a rose colored, satin bedspread. I was then sick which left a permanent stain that lasted for years.

The second one was when I was two years old and we were moving house. The truck containing our furniture pulled up just outside our back door and I can still see, in my mind's eye, a radio which was about four feet tall, sitting on the back of it. That was in 1938.

The only problem is that it wasn't until ten years later, in 1948 when dad bought a Morris 8, and had to dig out a driveway wide enough for the car to get up to the back door, that a vehicle could access that area.

The property next door was about six feet higher than ours was and our footpath had a six foot bank on that side, and a stone wall on the opposite side. Dad had to cut into the bank far enough to allow access for a vehicle.

So I can't explain why I have this vivid memory of a truck parked by out back door with a radio sitting on the back of it.