I haven’t got a clue what to talk about today, other than the fact some bugger has stolen my hole punch. OK, that might not be of great interest to the world in general but it’s pissed me off big time.

It all started after we had a move around and the photocopying/stationery room moved next door to me. I’m not a materialistic person and I’m honestly not normally possessive over my things – my mummy taught me to share and play nicely – and other than the dalek* incident, I always have. I don’t mind anyone using my stapler or ruler – as long as they bring them back. And it’s down right bloody rude to just take something without asking and then hot footing it away with said item. I’m sure it’s a shooting offence somewhere in the world and when I’ve found out who the culprit is they’re going to be extradited.

*The dalek incident

The first house I lived in was a terrace which had a small courtyard that was shared with the house next door. My dad had fenced this off to make sure I and the children next door were safe and couldn’t wander off. The houses belonged to Baggeridge Brick, built for their workers and the brickyard - with its many dangers - was only at the end of the gardens.

Now the girl further along the terrace, Wendy, didn’t have restriction of freedom put upon her like Helen and I. Helen being the youngest of our neighbour’s children and my best friend at the time. Wendy was allowed to wander up and down the row and would apparently often ended up standing on the other side of the fence hoping to be let in if a passing adult noticed her. It’s ironic really – she wanted to be inside our fenced off courtyard and we wanted to be outside and free of the enclosure. The grass is always greener on the other side and all that malarkey.

Anyway Helen and I had a favourite game that we played – Daleks. Thinking about it, it’s a bit worrying that our parents used to let 3 and 4 year olds watch Dr Who. I mean, at the time (the 60’s) that was probably quite a frightening programme. I still have memories of hiding behind the sofa when the music started – and that’s just the music, not the actual programme.

I don’t really have any memory of the dalek incident, just what my mum told me later on in life. Apparently my mum was paid a visit by Wendy’s mum complaining that I’d bitten her daughter’s finger and made it bleed. When I’d been questioned over this I’d readily agreed that I’d done it, in fact I was extremely put out that I was being told off for it, we’d only been playing after all – Wendy had stuck her finger thought the fence and I’d exterminated it!

Years later and Wendy still carried a small scar on her finger from her encounter with a dalek.