As per usual I had a good laugh over Bill Lawless’s column, Lawlessly Yours (Science has killed simply family fun, July 1), it reminded me of a tale from my childhood, of a brief holiday in London.
We had moved to Morecambe when I was six to take over the family property on the corner of Park Street, which seemed gloomy to me as a very small child.
We had lived in a modern terrace house in Streatham, my father working in a chemist shop in the city, just by the monument to the Great Fire.
At the back of all the small gardens was a park with tennis courts, roses, lawns and swings.
When we moved up here my grandparents were delighted to move into our small house, from their much larger one in Brixton.
A letter came to invite my mother to stay with myself and my younger brother for a week at least. We packed immediately and were on the first train back to London, we were excited.
After going to the Tower of London, Madame Tussauds, having a toasted tea cake at Lyons Cornerhouse, the Natural History Museum, etc, we went to the zoo – well, my aunt suggested a ride on a camel, a quite horrid, hairy one. I sat round its neck.
That night she undressed me in order to give me a bath and was horrified to see lots of red bumps on my chest.
I was plunged into hot water, scrubbed with Lifebuoy soap and drenched in TCP. A really awful experience. I won’t forget that flea in a hurry.
Mrs S J Morley
PS: War was declared whilst we were there.