We were cock-a-hoop when our Billy said he was coming home.  His Mam’s been up all hours polishing the copper and she’s scrubbed the front step until it’s gleaming.  She’s busy baking enough to feed Billy, his lass, the bairn, and the entire street I reckon. It’s not as if Billy will even notice, he just wants to see us. 

It seems like yesterday he was a babe in arms.  He was hardly as big as a bag of sugar when he was born.  Wouldn’t have given tuppence for his chances.  His mam gave him sips of milk on her finger until he was strong enough to take a bottle.  He soon got a taste for it, mind. Used to yell blue murder till he was fed.  When she shoved the bottle in Billy’s gob and the yelling stopped, I used to think I’d gone deaf. You wouldn’t think he’d started off like that to look at him now.  He’s grown into a fine lad.