We lived near a Russell Group university – in fact within walking distance. Consequently the neighbourhood was home to several academics. The landscape a green haze with many large mature trees and clipped lawns surrounded by luxuriant shrubs. The nearby roads were cul de sacs – no noisy traffic to disturb the peace. An ideal environment for reflection and study. There was a terrace - not of mean two up two downs but an elegant terrace with double fronted houses overlooking long gardens. Each house had large vertical sash windows and a generous front door.

Philology at the end house. The professor an introvert, usually reading a book as he walked along the pavement – his wife a scatter brain. Odd how opposites attract! A Hungarian couple, they had fled when the country became communist. On a boating lake, she pointed to where her bracelet had sunk the previous year to promptly sink her current bracelet in the same place in the same lake. The eldest daughter studied Greek and Latin at school, then gaining a degree at Oxford, returned to her old school to teach Greek and Latin – no change there then. The son, a football fanatic, wanted to be a professional but although still at school he was already too old. He compensated with a season ticket attending every home and away game possible. The youngest daughter was a scatter brain like the mother- her behaviour unpredictable, erratic.

General Practice at the next house. A doctor and family who were Church goers. Pets were named after books of the Bible. The spaniel was called Deuteronomy, the cat Genesis.

Mathematics at the mid terrace house. He couldn’t tolerate ticking clocks, so all timepieces had to be silenced. The wife, a dour Scott with a tight bun in the nape of her neck, was understanding, tolerant. The eldest daughter was studious, not having any interest in teenage affairs – fashion, music, romance. French was her interest. Later she studied at Cambridge. A German school exchange came to stay. Her world was shaken up. The German girl spent her time lying on the bed reading popular romances in magazines, oblivious to the charms of Yorkshire. The son was really strange, eccentric. Creating complicated contraptions across his bedroom to get him out of bed and ready for school. The youngest daughter was placid and content. Father played the piano, the daughter the cello and the son the violin – an instant family trio. They had au pairs – Breda, Dutch, wore thick socks with clogs and was a dreamer. Next came efficient French Monique, who cared for the children part time whilst studying for her PhD.

Spinster at the end house. She cared for her mother and father. A dark house with a dark, overgrown garden. In the dark hall could be glimpsed remnants of Africa - spears and shields. Had her father been in the Kenya police?

Philosophy in the large, detached house away from the terrace. They had moved North from Oxford - an academic downgrade? There was a flock of four young blonde children who were ferried about in the family minibus. The large entrance hall with its shiny parquet floor became the flock’s playroom. They danced, they sang, they played. Mother maintained she and her husband had never had a cross word. Well - they ought to have done!!! He left to be with his female assistant. They were writing a philosophical treatise together- Um! The spurned wife rounded up the flock and returned to Oxford.

Psychology in a nearby detached 1930s house. A kindly popular professor who walked briskly to work carrying his signature leather brief case. His wife, an educational psychologist, was neurotic - not good mother material. The son was sent to boarding school at a young age. Considered uncontrollable, he was expelled. His crimes - he had climbed out of upper floor windows and other such pranks. He was returned to his parents. When he enrolled at a nearby boys’ day school, he settled down. Maybe all he wanted was to live at home with his Mum and Dad, however neurotic.