The happiest days of my life
In 1931 I went to live in Park Street and they became the happiest days of my life. It was the families of the street who made life so rich with warmth and happiness.
My father, Alf Lindsay, was in charge of the Corporation depot in the street, and our house was inside the depot. Many years ago our house might have been a farm, as in the scullery, as it was known in those days, we had rafters where they hung the carcasses, but my father had all that altered. The town’s mortuary was in the depot; Sir Bernard Spilsbury came down to do the post-mortems. I remember particularly the trunk crime murder, which kept my dad busy keeping the reporters out. Next to our depot there was a family who used to sell their greengrocery from their horse and cart.
We had public baths in Park Street as not many people had bathrooms; they were nice and clean, and I remember Ada who worked there for years. At the bottom of Park Street there was a small Salvation Army Hall. During the last war when my dad had to take his rescue ARP team out, the Major there was always on hand with his team to give drink and food to people who were bombed out.