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I remember every fine Sunday afternoon dad and I would set off from White Cross Avenue, Tideswell to Little Hucklow to visit my auntie and uncle, Alwyn and Alice. We used to walk there and back, I would have been 4 years old then and when I got tired my dad would carry me. We walked on Castleton Lane, no (...Read full memory)
Will I ever hear the wind sough in the trees as I lie in my trench in the night? Will I ever hear our Anna's laughing voice. or see my mother's kindly face? Here in the trenches of the Somme, lying in the mud, the everlasting mud, my thoughts fly like the birds on wing, back to my home, to Little Hucklow's gentle (...Read full memory)