The Jeffrey Box2.

Inside the Jeffrey Box is a small, decorated cardboard box, and inside that is an unused linen handkerchief, neatly folded. There’s a note in my mother’s handwriting which says:

Jeffrey bought me this for my birthday when he was five years old, from Smithsons in Abbey Hulton.

Seems she was so moved by the gesture that she never used the handkerchief, but kept it pristine in a little box for the rest of her life. Doesn’t that bring just a hint of a tear to even the driest eye? Well, before it does, let me tell you about the tear I brought to somebody else’s eye at around the same age.

One day, my mother had a visit from a very irate Mrs Evans.

‘Your Jeffrey’s just bitten my Barry!’

Her Barry was about four years older than me, so it seems that, whereas I could be sweet where mothers were concerned, bigger boys up the street got to see the other side. I might add, however, that it was the only time I ever bit anybody. (Except playfully, of course.)

Tell you what, though, I wish I had a scanner. I’d love to post some of these pictures. I never knew I was such a handsome little chap. Which god did I offend when I got older?