Another Sylvain Landry challenge picked up from my reader which has generated a memory.
It was 1965, but nothing to do with power cuts or checking on elderly neighbours to make sure they were OK when the lights went out.
I came home from school to find a removals van outside our house and our furniture being loaded into it.
I couldn’t remember being asked to pack anything, or being told we were moving, so thought it was a mistake.
Living in a council house as we were at the time (where I was born actually), there had been an exchange and the new family arrived earlier than expected.
Like by a week.
Given the fact that the Mrs was about to pop with another baby, Mum and Dad had risen to the challenge of decency and consideration (read didn’t have a leg to stand on as Dad was technically no longer a tenant), and packed up our home in a few hours.
Their possessions were being taken in through the front door as ours were being taken out the back. From an outsiders viewpoint, it must have looked like something out of a Benny Hill sketch.
The house we were moving into had been built by my Dad for us, but apart from mains water and gas, no other utility had been connected, no carpets laid, no curtains up.
We had fish and chips for supper, and Mum was able to make a pot of tea as luckily for us, her new gas cooker had been delivered and installed the day before.
But lights? Nah.
It was therefore quite an adventure for us kids to be going to bed by candlelight, like a character from a Dickens novel or Wee Willie Winkie.