It was a Sunday morning in June 1973. My husband, my son – who was seven months old, daughter – eighteen months, and of course myself, had been to my in-laws for the day. We had to get a bus there and a bus back – which was a bit of an ordeal. My in-laws lived in Headingley, and we lived in Armley. Everything went to plan on the morning journey. We had a lovely time that day, and decided to get the bus back home in the early evening. We caught the single decker at the end of Queenswood Drive, got the pram and various other things onboard, and sat down. I was on the long seat at the side of the bus, and put my handbag at the side of me, as I was holding the baby.

We arrived at our stop at the top of Armley Town Street, got off, and started to walk home, when I realised I had left my handbag on the bus. I went into panic mode, as the door keys to the house – and all my money – were in my bag. When we got back to the house, my husband had to break the door down, so that we could get inside.

With it being a Sunday, the lost property department was shut. After a sleepless night, as soon as I knew the lost property department would be open, I phoned them up. I asked if a handbag had been handed in the previous evening. They asked me various questions, and I had to let them know exactly what the contents of the bag were. To my great relief – it had been found. And I breathed a sigh of relief. They told me I could go and collect it, but I would have to pay fifty pence to claim it back. That was quite a lot of money in those days – but it was well worth it. I will never forget that bus journey on the 91 single decker as long as I live.