A working-class childhood

A working-class childhood

My curfew was the street lights and my mam called my name, not my mobile.

I played outside, not online. If I didn’t eat what my mam made me then I didn’t eat and hand sanitiser didn’t exist. But you could get your mouth washed out with soap.

I rode a bike without a helmet. Getting dirty was okay. If I got a sore hand from playing conkers in the playground
then it was my fault, not my teacher’s.

I drank water from the garden hose…and didn’t die.
Not my words, but so true!

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