On Sunday mornings, we had strict orders to stay put in bed until called. We then had to get up and make what seemed like gallons of tea. On one particular morning, through the open window of our back bedroom, we could hear excited voices. Malc and me were both lying quiet and exhausted. My teasing had really irritated him and had ended in a tussle, with everything except us falling on the floor. We lay looking up at the ceiling thinking, watching the rays of the early morning sun finger their way across the room, trying to think of something we could do with our day. The distant voices outside interrupted our thoughts.

"Sounds as if it's coming from outside Idris Davis's. That's right!  I remember. The older boys are going to the seaside today on their bikes," I said, shuffling across those unforgettable bare floorboards to get our clothes.

"I'd like to go on Dad's racer, but my toes barely reach the turn of the pedals.  My arse would be pretty sore after a few miles. Besides, they're all much older," I said regretfully, looking at Malc for a helpful suggestion.

He nodded in agreement. So we quickly got dressed and went across the street to watch. As  soon as we left our front gate, we were met with gleaming chrome. It seemed to be shining everywhere; the bright reflections of the sun's glare flashing like stars. Spanners rang musically when they were dropped for one of another size. We were among a happy chorus of lively chatter. The friendly atmosphere could be felt, each one pretending not to notice their Mums  in their aprons at the front gates.

Time yet, I thought, before they leave. I loved every moment of it. There were a few bikes still upside down. Some had been greased, tightened and oiled, propped majestically at the curb, and carefully checked over by others, ready for the off. Idris Davis was in leisurely mood, supplying most of the humour, and enquired dryly,

"Who's gonna bring Fatty back from Mountain Road this time then, after 'im and the bike collapses under the strain?"  (It was a very steep hill, a few streets away).

"If you're really worried," retorted Fatty, "I'll bring YOU back from the island on my handle bars!"

"Perhaps you could stuff me in your saddle-bag when you've finished your sandwiches," said Idris quietly, returning a smile.

- 28 -