Family and Friends.

PC Pleb made enquiries: "I have been wondering do you have any friends as you have not written of anyone so far?"

Pleb, my dear friend. I have to admit that I have spoken very little of my nearest and dearest family members. Its much the same for my circle of close friends. I tend to protect their anonymity as much of my knowledge of human behaviour comes from observing them. I have to admit that a lot of my knowledge of animal behaviour also comes from the same observations.

My closest friend is Albert, we served together man and boy, for many years before our retirement to our respective allotments. Now we can socialise together and at the same time reminisce of the good old days. Of a time long before rickets and ring worm were eradicated. When beer was delivered in a wooden cask and we admired the various bulges (including the arm muscles) of the bar maid. Muscles, grip and wrist action built as she hand pulled pints of the finest brew. Enjoying sometimes fleeting thoughts of being pulled ourselves, before being taken in hand by the same wench. 

The late wife Edna was made of the finest Yorkshire stock. Brought up on a diet of suet pudding and with a girlish charm forged by wringing chicken necks. Both of us brought up in a god fearing community, as Mr Scargill was one not to be messing around with. Edna, was one of the finest cooks and bottle washers to ever grace the hallowed turf of the cricket club ladies section. With a mean backhand at playing bowls on the crown green. Whilst at the same time, carrying an even meaner backhand if you got out of control. Times were hard and we both led a life in crime. Me as the local police inspector and her as she shoplifted our meals from the co-op.

We had three wonderful children, Eric, Agnes and Nancy. So we were blessed with one of each gender. Our family was made complete with Thatcher the sable coated Whippet and Attila the feral cat.   Many happy family holidays were spent camping and rabbit strangling in the Yorkshire dales, as we waited for the house interior to undergo the annual fumigation. Our much modernised home, had all mod cons, including glass in the upstairs windows and a dual seat in the outside privy.

We both attended the local village school, where we learned the three "R"'s. Raiding the gas meter, rustling sheep and running a tossing ring. Our education came complete with a love for brass, first as money and secondly with the the colliery band. Edna, played the cornet and I played the fool. Discipline in church school was strict, with cane, strap and slipper. If those failed we would be sent to endure the ultimate deterrent. A week long stay with the local priest.  

But we had our local hero's to look up to. First the was Geoffrey Boycott the legendary slow batsman. Who could bore the opposition into capitulation.  Then there was deaf Billy, he was the hero of the colliery disaster. When he was used as a pit prop to hold up the roof - his deafness came when the other miners knocked him in with a sledge hammer.

Regards.

Uncle Mort.