My granny use to say, ‘if these steps could talk what stories they’d tell!’
I’d laugh and say ‘tell me a story then.’
She would whilst we sat on those steps outside her house with the summer sun on our faces and people waving as they went by.
Granny would spin truth and fiction together, making her simple life exciting for my childhood self. There’d be stories of her dancing the night away with my granddad, long days working in the cotton factory down the road and her adventures as a nanny in London.
Continue reading at The Story Files