There comes a time, and it comes early in life, when you first leave home. School. New things to learn and things you sort of knew but now there’s a different way of doing them. It all feels strange and then you find someone you get on with, someone who feels comfortable to be with. Friends - some last weeks, some have lasted my entire life.

And you start to realise, not everybody has porridge for breakfast and spaghetti on Sundays. Now I maintain to this day, no one makes spaghetti like my mum made it.

I was so lucky. Not only could I go to see my mum and dad (and the rest of my family) at work, I could actually go and work with them. “Julian, Grandma wants you to help her”. She’s still at the top of Burton’s yard, but now she’s got a sweet shop. Imagine the smells of chocolate, the shiny bottles of barley sugars, the trays of toffee and even salted peanuts lit up with a warming light. Irresistible.

I learned how to weigh sweets, to give change and grandma would say “Now Julian, talk nicely to the customers”. More of a command than a request. She’d been in and around Hudson Road all her adult life so everyone knew her, and those who didn’t call her Aunty Frances called her Grandma. They weren’t just her customers, they were her family. I learned about serving people, I heard the family stories and I learned that people deserve respect.

Now tastes develop, and people wanted more than just ice cream. They wanted lollies, choc bars and it wouldn’t be long before people would have fridges and freezers. Making ice cream in your cellar or in an unused mill can’t cope with the demand. So my Uncle Louis set about getting a factory. No real question as to where - Grimston Street in Burmantofts. Joe Greco’s wafer factory next door, Uncle Oreste’s factory (Treats) round the corner and Burmantoft’s Liberal Club in between for good measure. Fish and chip shops - well take your pick.

I was in my mid teens when my dad, Ronnie, said that Grandad thought I could start working in the ice cream stall in the market. It’s not as easy as it looks, making an ice cream sandwich never mind a 99. It’s always busy in the market, and the stall holders are all mickey-takers. I got to to know the regulars - you could time your clock by some of them. There were many faithful customers over the years. They would call my grandad Frank and they would call me Granelli’s lad.

It’s been so good remembering where I came from, I don’t think of these things every day. Your upbringing is just like Leeds - it gradually becomes part of you.