After Audrey and I broke up in July 1967, in my “thanks for the memories” letter, I wrote:
…I remembered things we did like going to Brock with you, visiting you at your Grandma’s at Heysham.…And when briefly, on Thursday 21st March 1968, I had Audrey back again, she mentioned
…things we did, e.g. going to Brock…The River Brock is a tributary of the River Wyre, and what I called Brock Bottoms (Brock Bottom on the Ordnance Survey map) was some 20-odd miles from my home in Thornton. Actually, we probably went to Brock Mill and walked downstream in the direction of Brock Bottom in the fairly steep-sided, wooded valley. We originally intended going there on my Uncle Ronnie and Auntie Margaret’s tandem bicycle, but when we tried it out in my back yard and drive we found that first, it was hard to keep our balance on it, and second, the chain kept coming off. So we went on separate bicycles; perhaps I borrowed our Steve’s bike, which had a large frame, and lowered the saddle of my smaller-framed bike for Audrey. While we were there I carved a heart and our initials on a tree. It seems strange to me that the event should figure afterwards so poignantly for both of us, for the only other memory I have now is of repeatedly bellowing “Come on!” on the way home at Audrey, who, weary with the length of the trip, was falling far behind me.
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