hazel Posted May 3, 2011 Share Posted May 3, 2011 Ice patterns on the inside of bedroom windows, beautifuly traced ferns that melted when you breathed on them. Cold feet on lino floors, the smell of scorched paper as the coal fire was lit. My dad cooking sunday breakfast with reconstituted egg powder on no egg weeks. The smell in Butt Woods when the may blossom was out and the carpet of bluebells swished as you walked through. hazel Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
shooter Posted May 3, 2011 Share Posted May 3, 2011 Ice patterns on the inside of bedroom windows, beautifuly traced ferns that melted when you breathed on them. Cold feet on lino floors, the smell of scorched paper as the coal fire was lit. My dad cooking sunday breakfast with reconstituted egg powder on no egg weeks. The smell in Butt Woods when the may blossom was out and the carpet of bluebells swished as you walked through. hazel Hazel how evocative of times past ! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sand_dollars Posted May 3, 2011 Share Posted May 3, 2011 The days seemed to last forever ,running up the hills with our cardboard only to slide back down then laughing as we gained speed .All the summers back then were long and hot and we did`t care we had nothing our games were free,picking bluebells in bluebell wood, making dens.Easter parades.may queens ,new clothes and the long march to the park on Whitsunday . Happy days filled with laughter and fun................ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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