|About the Book|
Sentimental recollections of growing up in Tipton in The Blackcountry, once known as the Venice of the Midlands.One of the hazards of living in a place like Tipton, surrounded by a busy canal network, was drowning. Yet I can’t think of anyone falling in and not getting out alive, kids or grown ups. There was the occasional suicide but that didn’t count and the odd dead dog or cat didn’t either. From the centre of Owen Street you could not get out of the street without crossing a canal but although falling in was common no one ever seemed to die as a result. I don’t mean that shoppers regularly fell in on the way home from the butcher’s, just that no one in Tipton ever seemed to drown in the canal. Maybe that’s why we were born there, God’s will and all that.