I used to live near Six Days Only. It was my favourite walk, down Shay Lane and through Heaton Woods, with my dog Fred when I was a teenager.
The name comes from a notice put up by a local cottager, who used to supply nettle beer for passing walkers but would not sell on Sundays.
Eventually it became a place name. The Jacobean farmhouse opposite had a lintel marked '1632'.
An old lady in these cottages still made ginger beer for sale when I was haunting the area.
It was sixpence a glass but she'd refill it for threpence. 
Behind the cottages was a large market garden run (and maybe owned) by our next door neighbour, Mr Gudgeon, who also helped me start a garden at home and gave me many chrysanthemum corms and good advice about care of plants.
His wife was Welsh with such a strong accent that no one understood her and she seemed very lonely.
I always felt very sorry because, as Mum said, 'she won't mix' which meant she had no friends. 
House about to go on the market. Any useful tips?
A terrible crime unpunished!! Imho 🙄
Why do hospitals, most of whom have large catchment areas, make accessing them so difficult?


