My parents worked hard when I was growing up; like many of their generation they lived through the Second World War and wanted to make a better world for themselves and their children.  I was their youngest and born in the 1950s  above the shop they bought, did up and ran in Dover Road, Folkestone.  They worked hard and to give them, and us, a special treat at the weekend we often went to George’s Fish and Chip shop in Guildhall Street on a Saturday after our shop had closed.  The warmth, the smell of frying, the ‘browsers’ (our name for the random left over bits of fried batter), the huge jar of pickled eggs and George himself, short with a moustache and dark hair smoothed back in only a way that Brylcreem can achieve.  My treat was always spam fritter to eat smothered in ketchup accompanied by as many chips as a little girl could manage. There was always a queue at George’s but it was always well worth the wait. (Sue Cowell)