A Dead Good Blog

It was the mid-1960s and we, that is, my parents, toddler sister and I had arrived. From pubs in Manchester, Lancaster, brief stay in Marton...

My eldest grandson liked to enclose himself in the book corner. He discovered that by opening a door to the toy cupboard and a door on the f...

photo of my maternal grandparents My first thoughts on Northern Man were of my grandfathers and my father. Northern, Manchester born and bre...

It snowed yesterday. Just a tiny bit. Enough for my grandson to notice and tell me and sure enough, there was a flurry. We watched through t...

  When my parent's wish for a pub on Blackpool promenade was granted, I had the joy of having a front bedroom facing the sea. I was fasc...

I was washing glasses in our pub, hidden away in the ‘still room’ on my regular Friday night and Saturday night stint during the busy Il...

My father loved his cars and nursed his Jaguars like they were babies. He polished them inside and out and tweaked engines until they so...

It took ages to pluck up the courage to tell my mother that I was being picked on and bullied by my supposed ‘best friend’. The tears came b...

My father’s job meant that we moved house a lot in my younger days. Sometimes, to me, it seemed like we had just got settled and we were off...

I can’t remember the last handwritten letter I received, not counting notes in Christmas cards. The speed and availability of social media a...