Happy memories of childhood

The hottest day of the year so far (June

25), and the July edition of The Great Outdoors arrived with me. The editor’s welcome, which described his experiences revelling in nature as a child, brought back wonderful memories of my early years.

I was born in 1946 to a nurse matron mother and a cotton mill manager father. From a very early age, I and my two brothers were weekly taken out to the Ribble Valley to walk in the countryside and explore nature, while having the opportunity to breathe in fresh clean air.

At that time the northern mill towns, together with most of the industrialised towns and cities, were experiencing regular days of smog. On the worst days I remember walking in the town with visibility down to virtually nil. To find your house on a terraced street you had to run your hand along the brickwork from the corner of the street and count the number of doorways you passed; if not you would run the risk of entering someone else’s home. In those days lung damage was the biggest cause of sickness and death.

While we were out in the countryside you could taste the difference of the air quality. My mother would instruct us to breathe in a certain way – I now appreciate her efforts to keep our lungs healthy.

That, and being brought up in a nonsmoking environment, I believe, has helped greatly in me reaching my 70s with no underlying breathing problems.

When I was small and getting tired towards the end of a walk my dad would pick me up and put me on his shoulders. Later as I grew older the way we kept our spirits up was singing the old wartime songs like It’s a long way to Tipperary and Keep right on to the end of the road.