I started at Weelsby Street Junior School in 1966 when we first moved into the area. Like most junior schools, it had that distinctive smell of wax crayons.
At first, the school seemed strange to me. I was used to having a large open playing field, not a concrete yard, and here you moved classrooms for some lessons, in my last school we stayed in the same room. However, with the encouragement of my new friends, I soon settled in.
We had school trips out. We visited a farm and watched the farmers cutting sugar-beet; it was great to get out in the countryside.
The highlight of the year was always at Christmastime when we would be taken to the New Theatre in Hull.
One year we went to see Robin Hall and Jimmy McGregor – a young Scottish duo who sang folk songs. We would usually learn some of the songs later in music lessons.
Another year we had a great treat with a performance of Scrooge. This was a one person show and was absolutely brilliant.
When I was at junior school, we had swimming lessons at Eleanor Street Swimming Baths.
The building was so beautiful, but the swimming pool terrified me. The echoing voices made me feel disorientated and the smell of chlorine made we feel sick. I was scared of the water and I’d cling to my white float and paddle my way slowly from one end of the pool to the other.
I didn’t want to learn how to swim because if you could swim, the next step was learning to dive. Mr Jarman and Mrs Peckett were the swimming instructors and learning to dive involved standing on one leg – holding the ankle of your other leg at a right angle.
One of the instructors would walk up behind you, take hold of your raised foot and pull it up. This meant you were tipped into the pool headfirst. No thank you!
When everyone else had learned to swim, I still paddled up and down, holding my float in front of me. I was a solitary figure, very happy in my own little world, away from all the tipping, splashing and gasping at the deep end.
I made no attempt to learn how to swim at all.
Nan lived near us when I was young. She lived in Mansel Street. It was an ordinary street but people kept it really tidy and took pride in its appearance.
She had a Silver Cross pram; I’ll always remember it. She used it for her shopping trips to Freeman Street, it was for fruit and veg, not babies.
She’d trawl the market in the evenings to get bargains, fill the pram and get me to push it home. Well, that was the always the longest walk. I was so embarrassed and just to hope that none of my friends would see me.
I bought the material for my wedding dress from the Nottingham Lace stall on Freeman Street market. I made the dress myself - it was beautiful.
The stall was wonderful, full of bolts of all different types of material. It’s hard to find dressmaking material these days.