My first nursery was just around the corner from where we lived in Ilford. This was the 1960s and it was run by a lady called Doris Church who I remember had a blonde beehive hairdo, and a husband called Chas, who drove a large Rover. My dad was very envious of his car at the time, because his company car was a Ford Anglia.
Doris ran the nursery from her house and my parents considered her to be very well off. She had a whole house for herself and her family, whereas myself and my parents occupied a downstairs flat.
Whenever I smell hessian it takes me straight back to that nursery. I’m not sure where Doris had obtained her toy sacks – the local post office perhaps – but they certainly had that overpowering, slightly musty smell that endures (not unpleasantly) in one’s memory.
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