I like taking school visits to places where the kids get to see the magic and mystery in their own everyday lives, even more than taking them to places they don’t get to experience often. Both are important and valuable but my proclivity towards embellishing the mundane with meaning stems from quirky adventures with my grandad when I worra lad.
My grandad had to take early retirement due to ill health, so growing up we got to see a lot of him. Every Tuesday we would pick us up from school and provide me and my brother with a lumpen sack full of sweets, to the visible envy of classmates. Then, in holidays and weekends, we would visit their house.
Grandma and Grandad live, as they always have, in Tickhill, a market town just outside Doncaster. We were in Donny, so it is only about a fifteen minute drive –…
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