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by George Wade.

Whenever Alfie's Dad came home from a another twelve months at sea, not only could our pal expect another brother or sister nine months hence, but he could also look forward to becoming a sixpenny millionaire. However with such a pocket money bonanza, he always found he had more fiends than a fox has fleas. Fortunately for Tucker Watson and I his two best pals,we were the only ones who shared Alfie 's annual inheritance.

Our steps takng us with the speed of water down an embankment, to Old Mother Doyle's house window shop in Victoria Road. Where Liquorice pipes lay alongside liquorice laces Sherbert Dabs and Silver Link Caramels. And always at the front of the shop window just below the home-made pies and cakes and wrapped in red and blue paper, was the Ever Lasting Toffee

A luxury that often got us into trouble. For if Fatty Jetferson our teacher caught you chewing in class he made you throw whatever was in your mouth, into the waste paper basket. And although it would have meant the cane if we had been caught slying back into school alter everyone had gone but before the baskets were emptied to retrieve our toffee, the risk was worth it. For even with the pencil sharpenings scraped off and the toffee still tasting of pencil lead and cedar wood, it was another five minute mouthful of Heaven.


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