My father is 91 - born in 1918 at the end of the First World War, he was the second born of 13 children, he has many a tale to tell of good times and bad times , happy and sad times , but most of all he has an incredible store of memories of bygone days.
His childhood days were spent on a small farm in the sight of Stiperstones, the farm is now in ruins but in those days it was called Black Top.
He lost 3 young brothers in a whooping cough epidemic - 2 brothers were lost so close together that they were buried in the same coffin
His memories include those of cold hard winters, suppers when yesterdays meatless bones were yet again stewed up to provide a warm meal for those inside those four walls. he had an eight mile walk to school,helped out on the farm and during school holidays he went to stay with his uncle, the local butcher.......