I was born in a terraced house in the north of England in the Sixties. I was brought up by my mum and my grandma and grandad. Mum worked in a variety of shops in my early years, including the corner shop (or "beeroff" - an off-license) at the end of our street.
I only had one brief memory of my life before I was about four: a very clear recollection of having my nappy changed. Goodness only knows why that stuck.
There are photos of me with the family cat, who died long before I remember him. Probably just as well, as I am now allergic.
My grandad was an austere man who I principally remember as coming back from jaunts away from home with his mates and giving me presents. The kind of plasticy toys which give small children such pleasure. Mum, grandma and I did not seem to be included in these trips. He also went to the local bookies to place bets on horses and dogs, which seemed to drain what little money we had with precious little return.
He died just before my fifth birthday.
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