Memories – My Yard

My yard was small and was on the first floor, above a shop. It had a long flower bed, built with bricks, at the front and from the brick flower bed to the brick walls of the maisonette the yard was laid with flagstones, grouted with pitch. I remember there were nearly eighty flagstones, altogether, and each one was different, except in size.

On one side of the yard was a wall, which separated our house from that of our neighbour. On the other side were railings, through which I could see the ground floor yard of the Festive Briton Public House. Regularly, brewers’ drays would bring kegs and barrels of beer. They rolled them off the dray over a ladder, and then into the yard. Having unloaded, the delivery men would collect the empty barrels and kegs, while the publican put the full barrels and kegs into the basement of the pub.

The flower bed had very little soil, so we collected what soil we could from the bomb site over the road, and carried it back to the maisonette in buckets.

My yard was where we mostly played when we were very young. It was safe and secure, but small and dull, but in my imagination it was a football pitch, and a forest, a field and a sea.

It does not matter what space you have, provided that you have some space.

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