MY Mom and Dad would take my brother and I to Birmingham on the train from Blackheath station nearly every Saturday.
There was so much to see in the old Bull Ring and in the old market hall. There was a wonderful clock there where statues would move round and strike bells on the hour.
Easter time people queued up in Woolworth's in the Bull Ring to have their name printed on an Easter egg (price was an old sixpence).
I was two years older than my brother and when we got to the front a lady with an egg in one hand and a piping bag in the other stood there. She asked my brother: "What is your name?"
We both said his name and she wrote on a paper and said "Is this your name?" She spelt it Jeffrey and I had to tell her it was Geoffrey.
My name wasn't a problem she said "Only one way to spell Mary." She put the eggs in boxes and how happy she had made us. Mom put them carefully in her bag.
It's as if it was yesterday – but I am now 88 years old and Geoffrey died 13 years ago. But if he was still here I am sure he would remember.
11 St Giles Close,