One evening, just before my seventh birthday, I couldn't find Mummy anywhere. Then I saw her, through a crack in the garage door, painting a small bike crimson. I know it will be for me - my first bike.
Once the trainer wheels were off, I could go adventuring anywhere, all about, to see the world...
What's happening here? I never forget to pull up my pants! Haven't their mothers taught them anything? I always just cycle quickly away and of course, I don't tell. It would probably be me that gets in trouble. I think it's something to do with girls having to keep their legs together when they sit.
Blogger protocol seems to require that I black the 'essentials' out. I'd rather do that than change the composition as these are the pictures that fall from my memory onto the page. I want to include this image as it seems such an intrinsic part of small town life in the days when children were allowed to roam free.