Id just turned 11 and woke up one morning to bloody sheets and literally thought I was dying so stayed in bed. Mum came shouting up the stairs to drag me out of bed. When she saw me crying she just asked if I'd started something. I didn't know what on earth she meant so just nodded. She disappeared, came back with a sanitary towel and that awful belt and left. Not another word was said so I had to fathom out how to attach the pad to the belt. I thought it was a one off. She would never make sure there was a supply for me so every month she'd give me money to get them myself from the local chemist. I can still clearly remember the embarrassment each time being served by the male behind the counter.
Churchill to be axed from British banknotes in the name of diversity.
Should the NHS charge for such things?
