The Village Policeman

A Memory of Harrold.

My father was the village policeman in the late 30s. My first memories was the police house next door to the garage, and the sweet shop with a lot of steps, (is it still there) the bridge sticks in my mind. The time dad chopped his leg badly and we were shipped off to Grandma's and we had a car accident we made the papers that day (would love a copy of that). My first school teacher Miss Negus, and going to Sunday school and collecting my stamps for attending. I have an old photo of our policehouse taken by my brother on one of his vists.
I now reside in Australia but I still feel a touch of nostalgia for my home country.

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