My Neighbour wore nylons
My hands were dug deep into my jeans pockets and my head was tucked into my chest to avoid the worst of the chill wind that was blowing across the fields to my right as I walked up the steep hill towards our house. During the day I would have had some cover by walking up the backstreet but my Dad locked the yard gate at 9pm ‘in case of burglars.' Who would want to break into our meagre terraced house was lost on me but he had his rules; so I had to enter the house from the front and it...