The Way BackChapter 7
Friday morning dawned sunny and crisp, a beautiful March morning, even though it was mid-February. I stood at the window and watched the traffic on the main road as it stopped, started and crawled by in a parody of the phrase 'rush hour'. It suddenly (all my new memories seemed to come suddenly) came to me. There was a picture in my mind of a little boy of five or six years old waiting for a bus on that road. Then a picture of the school. Yes, I travelled at that age alone on two buses to...