Funny Noises with our Mouths

Beryl Bainbridge

My father ended up a commercial traveller; he didn’t go from door to door, but that’s what he was. Mostly he travelled only as far as Liverpool, twelve miles down the railway line, to a public house called the Caernarvon Castle. He used it as an office and met business contacts there. Sometimes …

Where he was: Memories of my Father
August in my Father’s House