Back in the 1950s when my dad working in the Easington Colliery coal mine – the ‘pit’ – we never had much money. Our first home was an ex-army nissan hut, vacated by the army just after the war.

Funnily enough, I never realised how poor we were until I joined the Royal Air Force years later. Being poor meant that my younger sister and I were dressed in hand-me-down clothes. One of my proudest possessions whas a pair of boots my dad had given me. They were once white cricket boots that the previous owner no longer had use for. Dad stained them black and filled the toes with newspaper to make them fit my feet. Later, I had more newspaper inserted into the boots because holes had appeared in the soles. They looked just great for a while, until the sole started to separate from the uppers.

By the time we put them in the dust bin, several layers of sole flapped every time I walked.

Thinking about clothes reminded me that my mam was very inventive. It was cold in winter where we lived in the north-east of England, and I think I was a fairly sickly child, forever getting coughs and colds. She knitted me a balaclava with chest and back pieces that went under my coat. It served to keep me warmer, but gave the impression at the same time that I was wearing a woollen jumper, something not many families could afford.

I suppose, too, you have to remember that England still had rationing of certain items like wool and sugar and a whole raft of things, as World War II had not long ended.

My dad was very handy with his hands, like many men of those times. He could partition rooms to make cupboards, and he was in great demand for all sorts of minor construction projects for family and our neighbours.

He made me a sledge one winter out of bits of timber and iron bars for runners. I would join the rest of the kids at the top of this steep slope, push the sledge in front of me and throw myself on top of it, belly first, to finish at the bottom of the hill in a flurry of snow kicked up by the runners as we turned sharply, before the sledge had time to go across the main road in front of us.

There were a few cars about in the 1950s, but not that many, thank goodness!

What memories do you have of your mother and/or you father? Do you remember your first family home?

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