At that time I started to have piano lessons, my teacher was Bob Gregory
whose mother run the corner shop in Jury Street, Bob and his family were all
talented musicians both on the piano and the accordian, they had a Do-da Band,
my dad said they were salled the Gregs Pigs. The lessons were a shilling a time.
Bob lived at home with his parents his brother Bill and sister Mary, one day
I was having a lesson Bob was sat the table having his tea, when he and Billy
had an argument, next thing they were threating and “come outside”, and with that
they both took out their false teeth, put them in the jug and went outside.
Mrs Greg was a big Gypsy women with long earrings said “don’t worry John,
just keep playing, they’ll be back in a minute”, sure enough they were a bit bloodied
but as though nothing had happened. Billy had been in the 1914-18 was and was wounded,
he told me he had a plate in his head. When I told my dad who knew the Gregs that Billy
had a plate in his head, he said “I know, its a pot un”