In 1967 when I was eight we moved house. My sister and I were sent to the local primary school, but it was awful and I really didn't settle there and became very withdrawn and unhappy. Long story short, my parents, God bless them decided that if they both worked full time jobs and we did without luxuries like holidays and fancy clothes they could just about to send us to a nearby private school.
We all started at the new school, my sister and I in the main building (which was just a large house with the headmistress living on the top floor) and our brother in the nursery. We were happy at the school, but because our parents were both working long hours we were basically 'latch-key kids'. We would go home, get a snack, do homework, watch TV (not necessarily in that order!) and while away the hours until our mum and dad came home.
This is where our lovely lollipop lady, Mrs Dawson came into the story. She didn't only see us across the road, but would spend time chatting and playing with us. She would bring little sweets and even a skipping rope and French-skipping elastic. When she had finished her crossing duties, she would join in with the skipping etc. It helped fill a gap in the long afternoons. I think the school disapproved and eventually had a word with her (by this time there was a small gang of 'regulars' gathered every evening on her crossing corner!) I often think about her and what a lovely caring person she must have been.