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This will be weird but I fell down stairs and wound up in hospital which gave me time to read all the Enid Blyton Mallory Towers books without being told to go outside and play! I loved it, haha.

My favourite childhood memory is walking into a Library, for the first time, I love to read, had lot's of books, but when at the age of seven, we moved from Manchester to Sale, to a newly built house, we went to the local shops, just across the road, there was the most wonderful building in the whole world, a Library! Oh how I look loved it, so many books, I was in heaven, and forty odd years later, I still love books, and even though I've been living in Eccles for over twenty four years, that little library still holds s special place in my ? x

Our first holiday when I was 9 was a week in Hunstanton. We played on the beach and ate "Funny Face" ice cream lollies. Stayed in a caravan with a toilet and shower block at the end of the field but it felt like a 5 star hotel.

Spending time with my pony friends and sleeping in a wood in the horses field in a tent made from a stretched out piece of plastic tied to trees. Only to be woken by the ponies pinching our breakfast in the morning. Pure childhood joy.

My favourite childhood memory is when I used to stay overnight at my Nans. She had an amazing feather bed that I slept in. In was like having a great big cuddle as I went to sleep. I wish they still had beds like it!

my dad finishing his shift with british rail.smelling the coal smoke on him. and me running up the road to meet him...he swept me up in his arms and hugged me(a rare thing)......

Building my first electronic circuit using an intergrated circuit (ic) in the eighties. It only required a few components and it’s purpose was to flash a Light Emitting Diode (LED) on and off continuously. With the right size battery it could operate for about a year. The circuit was simple and it worked first time, I thought it was great.

Picking wild mushrooms with my brother and Mum near the Roman Wall where we lived - great fun until Mum got chased by a bull once!

It's so hard to choose one memory of my childhood when there are so many which I cherish but the one that comes to mind is Christmas at home with mum and dad, two older brothers and younger sister who has grown up to be my best friend. I was born in 1954 and Sandra 1959 and so we were playmates. Mum used to cook us all a fried breakfast after we unwrapped our presents. then after we had eaten, the big moment came! There were 2 big parcels of gifts posted from my older sister who married and went to live in America when I was four. What excitement! Beautiful dresses, dolls, books and chocolate and chewing gum for us girls. I always remember that after dinner everyone fell asleep and we couldn't get anyone to play games with us. I suppose they did after the nap but I can't remember. At tea-time the famous sherry trifle appeared with the walnuts on top which was only made by mum on special occasions. Christmas time seemed forever when we were young. How I would love to go back and live my childhood over again. The happiest days of my life.

Going down the "passage" at the back of my nans house to the back gate of my grandnans house and digging by the coal bunker to find lead soldiers my dad had buried there as a child.

My mum decided to treat me and my brother, she turned up at our school saying we had a dentist appointment. She took us in to town and shopping but best of all she had packed sandwiches and drinks and off we went to the cinema with our picnic , I felt so special. This was over forty years ago, I had one very special mum ❤️

Hot beef and onion soup in a flask at school on a cold day

My Granddad taking all the grandchildren and my uncle (who had down syndrome) to the beach searching for treasure (that he would plant) and the one who from the £5 note would buy all of us a slurpy slurp (which is an ice cream. He was one amazing granddad and I am so privileged to have had him as mine, miss him everyday

Christmas at my aunties house in the 1960's, all the relatives gathered, a real fire, their little poodle and lots of lovely food, she was the best cook ever. Shes 94 now and still the best.

Picking pears with my godfather in his little orchard. I remember wrapping each one in newspaper and putting them in cardboard boxes. There was always a box for us to take home.

When it was one Christmas morning, my sister and I woke up to see a baby kitten in a little box, with christmas wrapping paper surrounding it, his little head just peeping out at us, we loved that kitty so much, and he lived to be over 18 years old. My lovely step dad had gone out in the snow to get him from a friend, whose cat had kittens , being Christmas eve when he collected him, the kitty was just the right age by then to be the most perfect Christmas present we ever had!!! His name was Smokey, and he meant the world to us two little girls. The most perfect Christmas ever!!!

Swinging in a little wooden swing set up in an inside doorway so mummy could keep an eye on me .

Going to london for our holidays where my mums brothers and sister lived .We stayed at my grandma and grandads house in Borehamwood near Elstree studios .The trips were a big adventure for me and my brother.

Fields full of buttercup, bluebell, cowslip ...
Purposefully planting a dried apple pip ...
Telling the time with round dandelion clocks ...
Playing barefoot after losing my socks ...
Forging long chains formed of delicate daisy ...
Counting the clouds beneath blue sky so hazy ...
Studying beetles and squealing at spiders ...
Stealing away from the watcher beside us ...
Rolling around fresh green grass, newly mown ...
Chanting to ladybirds “Fly away home.”

Chiming church bells on a clear afternoon ....
Learning to whistle, though seldom in tune ....
A jingle of shillings; the gas man is due ....
That scrape of the sweep as he brushes the flue ....
Noisy near neighbours who frequently fight ...
Trying to block out the bad words and spite ....
Radio programmes for children at leisure ....
Uncle Mack’s Favourites, a Saturday pleasure ...
The rallying call of the ragman with treats ...
The guilt as I trade him my new shoes for sweets.

Salt on my lips as I run round the beach …
Plucking ripe plums - though the best’s out of reach …
Refusing cold cabbage and soggy school bread …
Re-using the bubble gum beneath my bed …
Shocking pink slices of coconut ice …
Gobstoppers last twice as long at the price …
Icecream at weekends – I stay with my Gran
Mum says not to spoil me - Gran says that she can ...
Hot cocoa at bedtime, and bedtime’s at seven ...
Grumbling ‘cos grown-ups stay up past eleven.

Socks that are soggy through wellies that leak ...
The harshness of hailstones hitting my cheek ...
Much mended mittens and second hand coat ...
Scratchy wool scarf irritates neck and throat ...
Sliding and gliding on icy cold days ...
Chapped hands and feet - such a small price to pay ...
Warm smells of puppyhood, wrinkled and crinkly ...
A welcoming wetness of tongue licking pinkly ...
The anguish and grief as he sighs his last breath ...
My pet has been stolen by something called Death.

Reading and ‘rithmetic, spidery writing ...
Using a proper pen nib is exciting ...
Pink blotting paper and blue fingertips ...
Smudgy ink stains reaching noses and lips ...
Painting and plasticine, scissors and Gloy ...
Hopscotch and skipping games, shouting for joy ...
Conkers and ollies, a new top and whip ...
Climbing the monkey bars, hurts if I slip ...
Scraping my scabby shins on roller skates ...
Counting the endless days till I reach eight.

Meeting my friend Pat 45 years ago and sticking together through the laughter & the tears of life.

My favourite childhood memory was New Year 1997, we had all the family over and we played board games and karaoke I was 9 at the time but it was one of the best nights

My best childhood memory is from the very rare times we would go on a family holiday. Never abroad, money was far too short for that. Mum and dad could only just about stretch to a week at my Aunty Joans caravan in Wales once every 3 years or so.

The caravan wasn't on a site and had no amenities; just a basic caravan in the middle of a plot of land, right in front of the sand dunes. The four of us kids always had such a brilliant time, without the need for money. There was a swing next to the caravan which provided us with hours of entertainment. There were board games in the cupboard for once we had tired ourselves out and were ready for bed. I vividly remember that the cupboard under the sink held such treasures as tennis bats and balls and a rounders bat.
We all slept like logs every night because of the fresh sea air and in the mornings I would lie awake listening to mum and dad talking, not being able to make out what they were saying, but just enjoying the gentle hum of them speaking, it was very comforting.
Sadly, both of my brothers are dead now and I lost mum and dad within 5 months of each other, both due to dementia, but I will always remember our family holidays with a smile. .

I lived in a London suburb during World War 2 and during one air-raid our windows were blown out and some ceilings down; it was normal to spend nights in our air-raid shelter, in fear of bombing and waiting for the 'All Clear' siren to sound so we could go back to bed. One year my Father took me on the train to stay with my Godmother at her farm near Chesterfield for the summer holidays, and it was idyllic to be free of air-raids, not need
to have my Gas-mask with me all the time, and enjoy lovely meals - they did not seem to have any food rationing on the farm as we did at home! That was a very favourite memory from my childhood.

Sitting in the cornfield at the end of our garden, in the sunshine, working my way through a half a pound block of butter before my parents found me! I was three at the time, and I can still smell the fresh air. My dad (85) loves reminding me. Oh yes I still love butter if I get the chance!

One of my favourite child hood memories is of me,my sister, my two girl and our lovely grandad walking along the old farm paths pushing an old home made barrow made from offcuts of wood and pram tyres collecting horse manure . My grandad could spot a pile from miles off and would point ahead with his walking stick. We used to fight as to who’s turn it was to shovel and who got to push the precious cargo . I can see him now in his old blue cardigan that my grandma had patched and darned so many times. Happy days