Jill Sparrow

Quite agree, Brew. I have never had children, from choice, because it is a huge commitment and I have no qualifications which fit me to be a parent. I don't have the answers to life's fundamental questions, therefore how can I guide someone else? Of course, I've been criticised for not having children by people who have the absurd idea that by not doing so I have wasted my life and not fulfilled my existence as a female! Complete and utter tosh! I might add that those who made such observations usually had an unruly tribe with whom they struggled to cope. They are more than welcome to my share

Listen to our Ben! It's just an excuse to get admitted to hospital so he can chase the nurses! Gets more like Chulla every day!

I clearly recall seeing Mitchell & Butler on the gable end of Le Grand. One reason why my father never went there.

It's a shame he can't find something more constructive and educational to do with his time. Personally, I can't see the point of gaming. The only things I've ever been addicted to are crosswords.

Jake and Bailey would love a swimming pool!

I protest, young Trogg. I've always been a trouble maker. I come from a very long line of trouble makers. Its in my DNA. The head mistress at The Manning once told my father during parents' evening that his daughter was a troublemaker. "Of course she is," he replied. "She's my daughter and she's been brought up not to follow the herd which automatically means she's a troublemaker!" I'm almost 61 and I'm not going to change now...and, anyway, I don't want to!

Pianoman is not wrong! Some big chords!

Bring me my sword of burning gold/ Bring me my arrows of desire/Bring me my shield, oh clouds unfold/Bring me my chariot of fire!/ I will not cease from mental flight/Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand/Til we have built Jerusalem in England's green and pleasant land. We used to sing it regularly in morning assembly at The Manning and I love it still. Good old Hubert Parry!

He ain't nothin but a hound dog, Ben!

Sometimes I come home at night not having understood a word I've heard all day, not to mention feeling that mindless trivia has taken over the planet. It's time I retired!

If I was being cynical, and I often am, I suppose that the majority of people who have fought in this world's conflicts didn't really understand why. If you can prevent people thinking about things and understanding situations, you can control them with ease. Providing them with access to lots of addictive food and drink helps, as do social media sites and brain numbing rubbish on 24 hour a day tv channels. Life is cheap, always was, probably always will be.

There'd be some trouble if I still lived there and the mullah...or whatever he's called...woke me up at that time with a racket from the minaret!

They don't care, Loppy. As long as there's food, beer and fireworks...a lot of noise to preventing em thinking too deeply about things, they're happy!

Yes, Catfan. They lived at 178 Bobbers Mill Road. Ken passed on years ago but would now be in his 90s. I believe Violet, also in her 90s, is still with us. Peter sadly died young and Margaret would now be around 63. Violet came from Dorset and had a strong accent.

I'm trying to remember what it was before Steans. It may have been an ordinary house. Can anyone recall?

Violet Beardsall, mother of my childhood friend, Margaret Beardsall, was the cleaner at the Le Grand and Violet, husband Ken and their son, Peter, often spent an evening there. The Beardsall family lived just up the road from us.

I remember Steans opening because the shop frontage was altered. It would be around 1966/7.

I have never been in but Le Grand was my grandfather's favourite haunt. In the late 50s and early 60s, he would nip in there for a pint of Mitchell & Butler's or what his wife, my grandmother, called 'loony beer!' I believe he sometimes met up with some of his comrades from The Great War in Le Grand and, because he had little capacity for alcohol, he came home in a morose and tetchy mood after possibly recalling the horrors of 1914/18, including witnessing his little brother being blown to pieces by a German shell. Grandad wasn't a heavy drinker. He couldn't afford it! However,

But look at the antics you've packed in to such a small area!

You'd better offer her your very best bone as an olive branch, Loppy!

When I've visited Italy, I noticed that the concept of a queue is alien to Italians. It's a British thing really, waiting your turn in an orderly manner!

But how do you know, colly? How do you know your mother isn't waiting on the other side of the black hole to administer another biffng...or to apologise for those she administered when she was this side of it? Questions, questions!

Maybe not, Brew, but we could be back there very easily!

Get away with you, our Ben! There's life in the old dog yet!

The receptionist would be female, Phil, and Ben has worked his magic on her. It's a lifetime of working his magic on women that has worn all his bits out! what a way to go, eh Ben?