My tenth year was probably the end of a period of reasonable stability because things were going to change in many ways during the next few years.

First there was the 11 plus and a move to Grammar School which coincided with moving to Norwich when Mum finally married George and he became 'Pop'. They had their shops (with flat above) only a few minutes walk from the school so I came home for lunch every day.

My sister Wendy was born a year later and Mum nearly died from a haemorrhage. Relations were a bit fraught between Pop and my grandmother so it was his mother who came to look after the new baby. Granny Smith always seemed a very hard woman and she obviously did not enjoy her new role. As soon as Mum was discharged from hospital she left her to cope.

I tried to help by getting up early and making the first bottle so that mum could stay in bed to feed the baby. Then I'd peel the potatoes for lunch before going to school at 7.30 to practise the piano. It wasn't convenient to play in the flat any more in case the baby was asleep but it meant I had sole access to the grand piano in the school hall for over an hour.

School meant a great deal to me and I would pass many days in the holidays helping prepare the books for the new intake. In fact, I had a couple of schoolgirl crushes:  firstly the nun who was in charge of the bookroom and also taught English, and then, after she was transferred to another convent,  I became attached to the music teacher who lived a few minutes walk away and who agreed to give me piano lessons when I told her I had given up (because the horrible man my parents had found when I left Miss Bunn  was a lech).

As proof of my impressionable nature my determination to become a nun faded when Sister T went away and, instead, I trained as a music teacher!

Fortunately the rift between Mum and my grandmother eventually healed  and it wasn't long before she joined us for weekends on Pop's pride and joy - a small cabin cruiser. I remember the day he bought it. Mum and I watched as he struggled with the controls, trying to get it away from its moorings. He had one or two very near misses with the bank and other craft and afterwards admitted that if someone had offered him a fiver for it he would have accepted. 

He and a mate took it to its new berth nearer Norwich and Mum drove Wendy and me back in the car. Of course, he did learn to manage it eventually but the craze didn't last for more than a couple of years. I was very thankful for that because it was my job to balance precariously at the front holding the mooring rope and then jump ashore to help pull the boat in. I couldn't swim (still can't) and we never wore lifebelts!

When they sold the boat they bought a caravan at Weybourne so we had many pleasant Sundays at the seaside - whatever the weather.