Of course some events disrupted our story telling. World War II was a big disrupter. I was 11 when it started. Nearly every adult, who did not go ...o war, worked at shift work at a war industry. We lost three members in the war, one uncle and two cousins. Near the end of the war my parents split up and my sister left for California. It was now just my mother and I and my mother seemed to alienate everyone and only a couple of uncles ever came to visit. Personally, the only way that I. Slowly she dropped the cups away, a thin set of red lines on the sagging breast skin told of their recent constraint, the nipples , surrounded by that dusky pink areola, stiff and erect pointing towards him like the guns on a battleship, though at that moment she was anything but a man o` war. For a long pregnant moment they sat still, his eyes taking in every tiny detail, every bump in the areola, ever ridge on the delicate raspberry coloured teat, her eyes watching him, fascinated by the look. More

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