When I was an infant, before my brother

was born, my parents cycled down country

lanes nearly every weekend. I was placed in

a seat at the back of one bike or the other;

they took this chore in their stride,

     after all, they were taking their

             “Little MissMuffet” for a ride.

cycling club, situated in Walthamstow. He sometimes rose at "2 O’clock" (it seemed to me) Sunday morning to train for the bicycle races.

Seated carefully, I could hardly complain,

As arrays of beautiful billowing bluebells

Appeared amidst the ample woodlands and dells,

Primroses graced the lanes and roadside edges.

Stopping to marvel at the sights nature pledges.

The names of trees from my mother I imbibed,

Lovely silver birches danced before my eyes,

Huge oak trees would fill me with sighs,

Oak apple with their lava intrigued me,

Nature’s beauty my parents made me see.

Giving their shiny prize free for all,

Conkers would be the ultimate prize,

In the height of their fall, we did not stay if wise,

For sticks and stones would be thrown aloft,

The biggest ones were the ones that were got.

Ponds would brim with wildlife. Now and then

We would stop to picnic in a farmers field,

The buttercups and daisies would have to yield,

Cows sometimes chased us out of their fields,

At one such tricky time dad had to jump a gate,

He had nearly left his escape too late!

Haranging the roads today, and by far,

The polluted fumes they emit,

From their rotting inners they transmit,

Harmful gases of all sorts,

Will now lay deep in our lungs

If those cycle paths families should now cavort,

No more lanes,

Only distant memories to haunt future generations. I have mine forever, thanks to mum and dad!

I am now classified as an invalid. Not Certified!

It is not that I do not want to come out, but;

My body says no, it cannot mix with crowds .

It is getting older, and my head is sore and bad.

It is sad that it is so full of noise. The less worried

and stressed I am, the better I function. After all,

when I was five I was taken out of a rough school

and put into Hale End physically disabled school,

picked up by bus and brought home at four in the afternoon.

I now have help from social services, various things they

do to keep me living. I have home-help; I had a male

one last week!

Protection from the world,

It jumps on the back of the weak

Tearing at them with their bare hands,

Making their lives empty and bleak.

Bullied all my life,

So I’ve had to make a haven,

To escape from the wicked,

My very soul they have craven .

I hide in my upstairs haven,

Away from any awful din;

Verbal or otherwise!

The world I once knew,

Has been brought down to size.

I can rest, write, or pray,

Watch TV or speak on hearing

Phone. Another peaceful day!

From the age of 10 years,

I went to Christian Hall and Bible study.

Brownies, Girl Guides Church and Wingfield

Music Club carried on a while. This was my

interesting style. A doctor had told my mother.

“While she's young, do not stop her from doing

anything. She will be all right by 21!”

My nerves from 12 got very bad,

I could not easily socialize,

which was very sad.

My mother took me, I was glad,

Walking to Lee Bridge Road from

our little terraced house in Richmond Road,

Walthamstow, East l7. The meetings were

held in a disused shop near Markhouse Rd. end.

We often heard the peel of church bells from

St. Savious Church, opposite my dad’s cycle shop,

(Lipscombes, it was called), on a Sunday morning,

going to the “Hall”.

left her pack at l6, because she said they

could not have anyone with speech problems,

taking a small group, even though my turn had come.

A grammar school girl had just joined, not qualified

took my place. The story of my life, always 2nd best!

Not now, I say, because indoors I stay!

Doing something others will never do.

It had taken all this time to make me wise,

I had not heard in Bible Hall,

Nervous at the same time.

Hours I sat with everything flowing

right over my head.

Not telling others, though I expect

they understood. It was me who suffered silently.

I did call on that guide captain, who lived in Boundary

road, and preached to her from my very own bible!

How happy I was, that God had shown her that

I COULD INSTRUCT AND SPEAK.

After all he had chosen Moses to speak to Egypt's Pharo,

with brother Aaron second in command. Moses

was slow of speech, like me, and very qualified

in experience.

My ears had been damaged by either birth, measles

or by the Lennox Rd. bully, Mr. Smith whom everybody

intensely disliked. We were only sitting on a wall, that

wasn’t his,chatting happily. Because he thought we

were rude to him,- somebody had called out

“Smutty” to him, which was his loathsome nickname

he told us off, grabbed hold of me

and whacked me round both ears;

knocking me out

into the middle of Queens Rd,

which was at the top of my road ,

Richmond Rd., and joined onto the adjacent Lennox Rd.

where George Gascoigne Central School was situated.

George Gascoigne later became an experimental

comprehensive: at least it was this

by the time I attended it in the middle l950s.

Richmond Rd. had an allotment

opposite a row of terrace houses,

Mine was number 25 ,

and Queens Rd. Park could be seen in the distance

over the allotments

After a while, I came too, picked myself up, and struggled

home like a wounded dog,

never to be the same again.

That man was never prosecuted ,

The proprietor of the Off-license opposite,

were too scared of the bully to testify.

The police would not take notice of my friends.

There were nine or them including

twins, Carol and Christine,

who always stood by me!