SISTER ACT

Wandering down the canal with my dog Flash at my side, I grinned to myself.

I’d got a bar of chocolate in my pocket and I was heading for the broken bridge with the field next to it where, if I was lucky, some of my mates would be kicking a football about.

In the 1950s, it was considered safe for seven-year-old kids like myself in my small village outside Cardiff to roam about unaccompanied. As I sat down on a tree stump and unwrapped my chocolate bar, a young guy walked past and started petting Flash.

‘What a good boy!’ he said. We got chatting, mainly about fishing.

‘Have you seen the frogs up