| around the shops, which wasn't much fun for Stan and myself . We would have to fill our time until it was time to catch the bus back at 6 o'clock in the evening.
My Mother My mother was a kindly, quiet, caring woman who cooked well, kept a clean and happy home despite a severe shortage of cash, which contributed to some hard times in those days. I believe she must have been a very good manager for we never went short of clothes, footwear or food. She enjoyed a good laugh which my father was always able to provide. She died of Congestive Cardiac Failure, age 76 on 9th November 1971. My Father My Father was a kind hearted, generous and funny man, who, as the years have gone on, I have come to realise, must have made many sacrifices for me to be able to carry on my education. His background and forbears are an unknown quantity, he seems to have been fostered from a very early age by people named Boswell who lived off Lodge Lane. My father had worked in the Lake District, at Ambleside as a young man, managing a MacFisheries fish shop. Then the 1914-18 War started. He joined the Army and became a Machine gunner, taking part in battles in France. He was later shipped to Palestine in Lord Allenby's Army. On the way the troopship was torpedoed in the Mediterranean near some Greek islands. As the ship went down and the troops abandoned ship, my father was grabbed by a Sikh soldier who was unable to swim, this poor chap dragged him down until my father had to kick himself free to survive. After clinging to some floating debris he eventually drifted to an island whose only inhabitants were goats and other survivors of the sunken ship. He was in the cavalry and was a good horseman. When going into action against the Turks they would ride the horses as close to their battle positions as possible when they would dismount, unload their arms and ammunition and some of the party would be detailed to take the horses back to the holding lines, each man having to take back six horses. The rider would have the reins of three horses hooked around one thumb and around the other hand he would have the reins of his own horseand two others. On this occasion my father was detailed to take the horses back, this was at night and on the return journey they had to negotiate some captured Turkish trenches. The three horses on one side refused to jump whilst my fathers horse and the other two jumped the trenches. the result was that the reins virtually tore off my fathers thumb and he was found at daylight slumped across his horse, unconcious, covered in blood and flies. |
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