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February 14th 2009

    For the Word Police:  "Whose coat is that jacket!" creates issues.  In the milk yard it was good humored and without malice.  And at three o'clock on a cold morning it was something precious.

   "Whose coat is that jacket!" made the tea.  He was always the first to get to work so the foreman had given him the key. 

    It never was actually cold, unless there was nowhere to dry clothes.  I would sometimes calculate in the bakers shop whether to buy lardy cake to thicken the blood against the damp or save for the electric meter. 

 

    Nor was it worth acquiring a bicycle because my part of Cardiff was a port town and sailors did good trade selling bicycles to Africa.  So I walked to work.

    I would wake up at two in the morning and be four miles away by three.  And that cup of tea was usually enough.  But all that was a long time ago.   

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