Memories of Portholland
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My Dad grew up in Portholland, one of seven children. There were five boys and the stories he could tell. The boys would go out at night and splash water on windows and the next day listen to the residents talk about the storm during the night. They also went out in the morning and made the ladies come to the front door by shouting "fish for sale". The funniest was the boys putting sheets over themselves at night and gliding around as ghosts. That must have been something back in those days. My grandmother caught them one day because of mud on the sheets and told them not to do that any more because if the squire found out he would kick them out of the house. Maybe that was just a threat from their mother. I would like to think that the squire would think it just as funny as I think it is.
I know which house they lived in and I always visit Portholland whenever I go back to England.
Shared on 09 February 2008
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