Tuesday, 3 September 2019

The Bridge Lane girl


When I was young I lived in a small town with small town people with petty ideas about who was OK and who wasn't.

So those who lived over in Bridge Lane were somehow not like us for there was a class divide. Mind you, young Maisie Young was in the same year as me at school and when I looked at her and she looked right back at me, we both smiled even though she came from over there.

I used to walk her home after school. Once over the bridge with the river running below, I dared to hold her hand for it was soft and warm and that put a smile on both our faces.

It was my brother that told on us to my dad. I looked across at Ma who for some reason was looking down not saying a word as he raved on about me finding a better class of girl to walk home with.

Later on as I was helping her with the dishes; putting them away and sorting out the cutlery, Ma whispered to me saying "I came from Bridge Lane son, your Dad has forgotten that". I looked up at her and smiled and said "So I can still walk her home?"

"Of course you can lad, and you can kiss her too if she wants; but ask her first" She said smiling. "Don't forget to say hello to her Ma from me, as I haven't seen her for ages".

Childhood romances don't often last and that was such a long time ago. Even today I think of Maisie and wonder what lucky man married her for sadly it wasn't me.

Image found at www.picturesof england.com


  1. Ah, your mom had such a lovely heart. Now the divide between rich and poor is even wider.....but I dont see wealthy people as being any happier. I enjoyed this remembering, Robin.

  2. Oh those barriers of class... sometimes they have a way of staying with you a long time afterwards...

  3. This is such a poignant write, Robin 💖💖 I resonate with difference in class and status.. love often overlooks such details doesn't it 😊

  4. I enjoyed reading this, Robin. It reminded me of my first school romance. We go pretty steamed for first and second grades. Guess maybe that's partly why her Dad took her out of school for the third grade on, a church school, and I never saw her again. I was away after graduation when she committed suicide. Never
    heard any rumors what the problems were.
    At the country school where we went all were farmer kids and all were on the lower class side of the bridge.
    Glad to hear you have visited the Vaux-le-Vicomte castle. I don't know when or how it came about to have that prison cell exhibition. I had not known of this part of French history until then.

  5. Class barriers always existed. Child romances are the sweetest.

  6. Dad forgot! What a wonderful mother...