A man in a cart would

come round. He had a

sharpening stone which

turned to his manual

address. Sparks would


fly in all directions a sort

of pyrotechnic show except

in miniature - we kids would

rally to his call after his cries

had gone echoing down the


street - it was a sort of gratis

entertainment after the war,

after the bombings of Merseyside,

as we gradually acclimatised to

something unusual called 'normality'


Yet on a different note, those who

had backed both sides (just in case)

where pilloried by the media and our

Government speedily had them put

away, for forfeiting their loyalty points 





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