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y pink stuff in an oval matchwood box with a tiny tin spoon to eat it with； which cost a halfpenny。 both of those have disappeared。 so have caraway fits； and so have chocolate pipes and sugar matches； and even hundreds and thousands you hardly ever see。 hundreds and thousands were a great standby when you’d only a farthing。 and what about penny monsters？ does one ever see a penny monster nowadays？ it was a huge bottle； holding more than a quart of fizzy lemonade； all for a penny。 that’s another thing that the war killed stone dead。
it always seems to be summer when i look back。 i can feel the grass round me as tall as myself； and the heat ing out of the earth。 and the dust in the lane； and the warm greeny light ing through the hazel boughs。 i can see the three of us trailing along； eating stuff out of the hedge； with katie dragging at my arm and saying ‘e on； baby！’ and sometimes yelling ahead to joe； ‘joe！ you e back ‘ere this minute！ you’ll catch it！’ joe was a hefty boy with a big； lumpy sort of head and tremendous calves； the kind of boy who’s always doing something dangerous。 at seven he’d already got into short trousers； with the thick black stockings drawn up over the knee and the great clumping boots that boys had to wear in those days。 i was still in frocks—a kind of holland overall that mother used to make for me。 katie used to wear a dreadful ragged parody of a grown…up dress that descended from sister to sister in her family。 she had a ridiculous great hat with her pigtails hanging down behind it； and a long； draggled skirt which trailed on the ground； and button boots with the heels trodden down。 she was a tiny thing； not much taller than joe； but not bad at ‘minding’ children。 in a family like that a child is ‘minding’ other children about as soon as it’s weaned。 at times she’d try to be grown…up and ladylike； and she had a way of cutting you short with a proverb； which to her mind was something unanswerable。 if you said ‘don’t care’； she’d answer immediately：
‘don’t care was made to care； don’t care was hung； don’t care was put in a pot and boiled till he was done。’
or if you called her names it would be ‘hard words break no bones’； or； when you’d been boasting； ‘pride es before a fall’。 this came very true one day when i was strutting along pretending to be a soldier and fell into a cowpat。 her family lived in a filthy little rat…hole of a place in the slummy street behind the brewery。 the place swarmed with children like a kind of vermin。 the whole family had managed to dodge going to school； which was fairly easy to do in those days； and started running errands and doing other odd jobs as soon as they could walk。 one of the elder brothers got a month for stealing turnips。 she stopped taking us out for walks a year later when joe was eight and getting too tough for a girl to handle。 he’d discovered that in katie’s home they slept five in a bed； and used to tease the life out of her about it。
poor katie！ she had her first baby when she was fifteen。 no one knew who was the father； and probably katie wasn’t too certain herself。 most people believe it was one of her brothers。 the workhouse people took the baby； and katie went into service in walton。 some time afterwards she married a tinker； which even by the standards of her family was a e…down。 the last time i saw her was in 1913。 i was biking through walton； and i passed some dreadful wooden shacks beside the railway line； with fences round them made out of barrel…staves； where the gypsies used to camp at certain times of the year； when the police would let them。 a wrinkled…up hag of a woman； with her hair ing down and a smoky face； looking at least fifty years old； came out of one of the huts and began shaking out a rag mat。 it was katie； who must have been twenty…seven。
PART Ⅱ…2
gxiaoshuowang
thursday was market day。 chaps with round red faces like pumpkins and dirty smocks and huge boots covered with dry cow…dung； carrying long hazel switches； used to drive their brutes into the market… place early in the morning。 for hours there’d be a terrific hullabaloo： dogs barking； pigs squealing； chaps in tradesmen’s vans who wanted to get through the crush cracking their whips and cursing； and everyone who had anything to do with the cattle shouting and throwing sticks。 the big noise was always when they brought a bull to market。 even at that age it struck me that most of the bulls were harmless law…abiding brutes that only wanted to get to their stalls in peace； but a bull wouldn’t have been regarded as a bull if half the town hadn’t had to turn out and chase it。 sometimes some terrified brute； generally a half…grown heifer； used to break loose and charge down a side street； and then anyone who happened to be in the way would stand in the middle of the road and swing his arms backwards like the sails of a windmill； shouting； ‘woo！ woo！’ this was supposed to have a kind of hypnotic effect on an animal and certainly it did frighten them。
half…way through the morning some of the farmers would e into the shop and run samples of seed through their fingers。 actually father did very little business with the farmers； because he had no delivery van and couldn’t afford to give long credits。 mostly he did a rather petty class of business； poultry food and fodder for the tradesmen’s horses and so forth。 old brewer； of the mill farm； who was a stingy old bastard with a grey chin…beard； used to stand there for half an hour； fingering samples of chicken corn and letting them drop into his pocket in an absent…minded manner； after which； of course； he finally used to make off without buying anything。 in the evenings the pubs were full of drunken men。 in those days beer cost twopence a pint； and unlike the beer nowadays it had some guts in it。 all through the boer war the recruiting sergeant used to be in the four…ale bar of the george every thursday and saturday night； dressed up to the nines and very free with his money。 sometimes next morning you’d see him leading off some great sheepish； red…faced lump of a farm lad who’d taken the shilling when he was too drunk to see and found in the morning that it would cost him twenty pounds to get out of it。 people used to stand in their doorways and shake their heads when they saw them go past； almost as if it had been a funeral。 ‘well now！ listed for a soldier！ just think of it！ a fine young fellow like that！’ it just shocked them。 listing for a soldier； in their eyes； was the exact equivalent of a girl’s going on the streets。 their attitude to the war； and to the army； was very curious。 they had the good old english notions that the red…coats are the scum of the earth and anyone who joins the army will die of drink and go straight to hell； but at the same time they were good patriots； stuck union jacks in their windows； and held it as an article of faith that the english had never been beaten in battle and never could be。 at that time everyone； even the nonconformists； used to sing sentimental songs about the thin red line and the soldier boy who died on the battlefield far away。 these soldier boys always used to die ‘when the shot and shell were flying’； i rem