Dear LPG,

Lockdown has been, and still is responsible for so much more than in-house imprisonment. I have spent a lot of mine looking through boxes of things that I have been through so many times before, using the excuse that I was having a bit of a sort out.  I am sure so many have done it and found one letter, souvenir or picture which has stopped you in your tracks while you remember.

I recently found a picture of my Uncle and started reminiscing.  I think he and the memories of him that brought my sorting-out session to an end that day, deserve a mention and so I would like to introduce you to…

                                               MY UNCLE NORMAN

My father was the eldest of eight, and one of five brothers and three sisters. Our family grew up in Hull, East Yorkshire and Norman remained in the locality with his wife and two sons. He loved adventure and challenges. Along with one of his brothers and a friend they motor-cycled round Scotland starting from the west, and finishing up on the east side of Northumberland, at Wall; a place renowned for its past Roman occupation. One of the party got left behind, while the other two waited, including my uncle, when a Roman soldier came pacing along ......they waited no longer. This all happened long before the era of historical re-enactments!

 Norman had a passion for climbing and, when his family was young, he was reputed on his excursions to have carried one of the boys in his rucksack. When he had no rocks to climb he was known to have at least attempted an ascent onto the roof of the large rambling house where my grandparents lived.

In contrast to his physical prowess, on a visit once to his house I was amazed to see a detailed and accomplished embroidered picture of his own making!

During WWII Norman was in the RAF where he met his wife, Eve, and their wedding was celebrated with a parting gesture from his compatriots when they threw weeds at them instead of confetti as they emerged from the church.  This was retribution for all of his notorious practical jokes.

Traditionally, our family Christmas parties were held at our house, including a number of local relations.

These were pre-television times when we provided our own entertainment.   I remember one occasion when I was upstairs in bed with mumps.  The family was enjoying a visit downstairs having been warned about how contagious that condition can be.   I was lying there, thinking about all the fun I was missing downstairs when, suddenly a face appeared at the window; it was uncle Norman’s. He had climbed the cherry tree adjacent to the wall, and he gave a momentary glance to see what I looked like, and then he was gone.

One year my father made a list of events for the party, and placed it on the front door, with a footnote reading ‘Norman keep it clean.’

Mary Credland, East Yorkshire