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Mock Queen Anne chimneys with completely beautiful flower-cut pots stood at either end of the ridges, which themselves were ornamented with cock’s comb finials. Dark blue morning glory scampered all over a trellis at the portico, wallflowers, London pride and chrysanthemum borders softening the edges with a coppiced archway of fruit trees coaxing and beckoning a visit to the back garden…. Grandma Flo would hug us with jowly arms and kiss our heads and faces and haul our unresisting little bodies into the kitchen. She was plump, blousy and Cockney to the core. Although a child, I was blessed with a photographic memory and snapshot morsels of my childhood are etched like engravings within my brain…I feel at liberty to confidently express them. We would traipse through to Grandma’s kitchen in a little crocodile, giggling and skipping excitedly through the parlour…’come on me’ ducks’ she would say as she led us to Nirvana. Jimmy the huge white cat would tag along optimistically – his. I caught myself, because I hadn't realized what I was standing like that, and stretched a little, blinking and looking around and then hurrying back to the group.I'd have to save Mr. Cummings for later, mostly because I didn't know what I was doing.I didn't see Mr. Cummings the rest of the morning, not until it was lunchtime and we were sitting in the cafeteria, which was really like a restaurant, sort of, except different. The president of the company was there, along with four vice-presidents and they all introduced themselves and talked a little. The president made a short speech about how nice it was to meet us and how important we were, us kids, to the success of the company. I was lost mostly and I don't think any of the younger kids could follow the man either, but we smiled and swelled up a little cause we were important, and then we had a nice lunch.They'd seated us at six tables, big round ones, and split us all up so six or seven kids would sit with one of the executives..
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