A word out of place

I attended a junior school in the north of England during the early 70s, and one of my friends was a lad named Philip Jones, whose dad was a coalman. I would have been around 10 years old at the time of this story.

Mr Jones was good fun, but expected a high standard of behaviour from Philip and his two younger brothers. One day, a group of boys including myself were playing board games at Philip’s house, as the weather outside was wet and miserable. There were four of us in total.

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