Taken to be smacked

When I was a child, my mum was good friends with a lady called Mrs Leese – I think they had worked together before they both left to concentrate on raising their families, as was the norm in the 1970s.

I was often dragged along to Mrs Leese’s house when Mum went for morning coffee or similar, and I always had very mixed feelings about going there. First of all, I always found the grown-ups’ conversation totally boring – which I guess isn’t that unusual for a six-year-old boy, as I was then.

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