Those Dagenham Days
George Beckman picked up the mail that was lying on his doormat. There was the usual assortment of letters, statements, bills and ‘To the Occupier’ envelopes. “If you don’t even know who I am, Pal, you can go straight in the bin!” he said to himself after viewing the small pile comprising this last category. His attention was drawn to a hand-written envelope with no postage and no address; he had a few of these occasionally, from people who had somehow found out his address and posted things...