WEEK 42

It was one morning, in the depths of winter, in 1944.  On a Saturday morning to be precise, when there was no school to interfere with my leisure pursuits.  After partaking of my usual sumptuous breakfast repast, i.e. Kellogg’s Shredded Wheat followed by tomato drip on fried bread, I turned my attention to creative matters, specifically to read ‘Kidnapped’ by Robert Louis Stevenson.

While I was engaged in this pleasurable task, my attention was momentarily distracted to a bowl of apples, freshly gathered from the local orchard.  Not bothering to obtain my mother’s permission, I greedily detached the largest, reddest orb from the pile.  Eagerly crunching the delicious fruit, my attention was once again distracted by the thought of a niggling chore, which I needed to complete for nature study at school.  Grabbing a pen from the sideboard, I launched the necessary task.

After completing the list for the nature study with a sigh of relief I turned back to my book, only to be interrupted by my dad, brandishing a gigantic read and white scarf, previously owned by my granddad.  The colours on the scarf were of Rotherham United Football Team.

“Here you are,” my dad passed my coat and the scarf, “we are going to the match.”