Mr Reeves, our milkman, circa 1947-ish, was heard to remark...'there go the ** snobs...' At the time, I would have been six and my sister four. We lived in a council house on the downside of our village. We had been taught polite ways - p's and q's and such. Our young parents had always made sure that, apart from behaving like little ladies, we also wore polished shoes and nicely laundered clothes. I have NEVER forgotten how hurtful his throw-away remark was to me at such a young age.