This week Marion tells us all about her mother and father

My mum and dad were simple, contented people in the nicest way, living in a council house in Knowle West.

Mum had lovely hands - piano hands she called them.

She was with me in July 1961 when I gave birth to my second child, Julie.

It was a home delivery and the first thing mum said was, “She is so beautiful - and look, she has my hands”

My mum was the strongest and most moral person I have ever known and I get my strong sense of right and wrong from her and also the stubbornness never to give up.

I only wish I had appreciated her more when I was a child, especially during the war years.

As a little girl of five I knew she was equally proud of me - I often heard her say, “Our Marie (my family name) was vaccinated with a gramophone needle.”

And do you know, I could chat the hind leg off a donkey.

I was also old for my age - and I did have a bit of trouble with that.

Certain topics of conversation then were more guarded than today - not meant for little pitchers.

Mum would tell people, in an affectionate way of course, that I was a right little greedy guts.

This was probably true - I loved my food.

Our cooked dinner was at mid-day and as long as I cleared my plate I could always have a slice of bread and home made jam.

As mum said there was always water in the tap - at least there was until the war came when it was sometimes cut off.

We were never allowed to go hungry and always encouraged to drink plenty of water.

Even today I don’t buy bottled water - what comes out of my tap tastes fine to me.

However knowing right from wrong didn’t stop me being naughty as I got older.

If I strayed too far and my sister had to look for me, or if I was cheeky and answered back I would be sent to bed without any supper.

I don’t know if mum ever realised but this was’nt really a punishment for me.

I loved to read and write and since dad was a wonderful artist there was always writing paper in the house.

So I would go off to bed quite happily.

And as for going without supper, dad always brought me up cocoa and a few broken biscuits before kissing me goodnight.

Although mum was the disciplinarian she must have been in agreement with this.

After all, the only way from the kitchen to the bedroom was through our living room.

She would have thought it wrong to see us go hungry.

We were always expected to be on our best behaviour, especially when we were taken out.

I think this is what gave us confidence in life; whatever happened mum and dad were always there for us.

Mum might have been strict - but so was everyone else in those days.

If I had misbehaved at school and been told off (which, of course, I never was) and then gone home and complained I would have been punished again.

Mum liked to sit down at night and have a read.

As well as belonging to the chain library she bought the Red Letter magazine every week and I think also the Red Star.

When I was older I used to walk down Wedmore Vale to St John’s Lane, where they had a branch, to change mum’s books.

Years ago people left school at 14, but unlike today I never knew anyone who couldn’t read and write.

Gran, who was born in 1881, used to talk about a book called East Lynne which she had read as a girl.

I don’t know where she was educated but after I married I found a copy in a second hand bookshop in St Michael’s Hill and bought it for her.

I was amazed at its thickness, the small print and the fact she could have read it.

Bye for now, Marion.