My father was in the civil service. I can remember standing in a bus shelter in the pouring rain, and that we were allowed candy floss at the end of the holiday if we had behaved.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When my dad was badly weakened by the flu and my mom wanted to call an ambulance to take him to the emergency room, he wouldn't go unless he could shave first and change into a nice shirt and a pair of slacks.
I was raised in a family dedicated to public service.
I lived all my life thinking the reason I was in care was because I was naughty. Because I was breaking and entering, pickpocketing, vandalism. I wasn't party to any social workers' reports.
I was the oldest of the children in my family. I had to do a lot of diaper-changing and lunch-making. I was taking my little sister to ballet, picking up my brother, sort of being a super-nanny.
My dad worked on ambulances for a while; my mother had a lot of different jobs with the city.
I wasn't allowed to have sugar as a kid. We didn't have candy or soda or anything, so Easter and Halloween were my favorite times 'cause I could eat as much candy as I wanted.
My dad worked for child protection.
My dad took on every job he could get. He worked like mad. But then, at some point, he had saved up enough to open his first pub.
My father was a security guard. I was a security guard.
I was a child, and in 1942, I was evacuated to the Cotswolds with my mother, who was a teacher - she went with her school. I lived in one house in the village, and my mother was in the vicarage.