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I cannot remember much when I found out my Uncle Fred and cousins Mike and Barry were essentially my pop and brothers. Was I thrilled to find my real family or was I sad to see my surrogate family go? I really can't remember much of those years. I know they were never very happy times due to the tormenting of my 2 bros. I was the youngest and last one in so they'd already joined ranks against me and I did suffer badly at their hands. But slowly things got better and there were new things and places to explore and I had a new brother only eighteen months older than me to play with. We were the great adventurers going fishing at Cooks Ferry and The Hollow pools. Frogging in the 'LoonyBin' a disused swimming pool in Whipps Cross hospice that reportedly had psychological cells beneath. Conkering and scrumping, playing run-outs and football, swimming and Sat. morning pictures. We were wild street kids, free by parental control. The world was ours to explore and explore it we did. We were really creative making our own toys from go-carts and skateboards to the powerful Tank. If we needed money we might do a Corona bottle hunt for the deposits. We never had much money but I don't recall us complaining. We used to have family parties each Christmas with decorations up that we had made ourselves, listening to 45's on the suitcase record player with it's arm loaded with pennies to prevent it from jumping. Attempting to hide from my nan who would fully out-dance everybody on the floor and have a sing-a-long to my dad's piano playing and doing the March of the Mods.
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