When I was 13 years old mum had the offer of a house.  It was 9 Old Council cottages.   The rent was about eight shillings per week.  

It had a bathroom, flush toilet, electric light and a cold water tap plus a gas boiler to heat bathwater and to boil washing.  

It had three bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen with an indoor coalhole. 

Grandad said that he was staying put at Rose Cottage and I think mum was rather tired of looking after him with little or no thanks so we moved out with the help of some lads and the scout hand cart.   As the days went by it became obvious that Grandad was unable to look after himself as well as he thought.   I went in to see him at tea time one day and he was having his breakfast.    Mum spoke to Uncle about him as something had to be done and she felt that she had done her share so Grandad went to live with Uncle and his family.  

This only worked for a short while however.   Uncle came to the conclusion that he would put Grandad into a home.   Mum said that she couldn't let that happen.  As Grandad had often moaned about Den, mum put this to Den whose reply was —

"I don't care, I don't take any notice"

so Grandad came back to live with us until he died at the age of 81.

The only thing lacking in the council house was felt under the roof tiles so when it snowed one had to get up into the loft to sweep it up before it melted and dripped through the ceiling into the bedrooms. 

It did just that at the time that Grandad died.  He was laying in his coffin in the bedroom.  We had taken our bedding downstairs and were sleeping in the living room on the floor. Mum thought of Grandad in his coffin and went upstairs and laid the lid on the coffin inside up so that the name plate writing on the lid wouldn't be spoiled by the dripping water.   She didn't think what would happen to it later when he was buried.

When we moved we had little furniture and mum didn't buy any new so she was pleased to be offered a table.  A family were moving away from the cottage along the A24 about half a mile away from us.  

Mum, Den, a friend and I went to look at the table.   Mum said that she would have it and that we would take it with us.   With a struggle we managed to get it out of the door and with a lot more lifting and pushing the four of us got it onto the bypass heading towards Worthing.  

The table legs and frame were from a billiard table, it had a scrubbed top and it was on casters.  Mum's idea was to push it home.  

This was really heard going as it rattled and bumped along the concrete road.   When we came to where the road sloped we each sat on a corner of the table and propelled it by scootering along with one our legs.   I don't think one would last long today pushing a table down the A24 with the way cars race along at high speed.  

When we arrived home we found the table was too big to get in the door.   Not to be beaten mum got out the saw and cut the casters off the legs. 

After all the trouble we went to we didn't keep the table very long as it took up most of the space in the living room.  It ended up as wood for the fire.