Eric FOX

It is over forty years since I last saw Eric and puzzling why I am so affected by the news that my friend has passed away; the shock of reading the news in my local paper and the memories that have come back. I have found, from personal experience, that this gradually passes and one can look back with happiness at the good things you have shared, without the sadness of this time.
I met Eric when we were little more that toddlers, I lived on Melrose Street, two up two down terraced houses in Lancaster, and Eric lived next door, another boy moved into the next house a few years later. Every day - apart from Sunday, when we stayed in so everybody had a day of rest – we would go to the shop at the top of the street and spend our tuppence pocket money, spending some time viewing the sweets on offer and working out the best deal!
We played on Melrose Street: marbles on the sandstone cobbles, sometimes looking through the windows of the school, on the other side of the street, much to the delight of the schoolboys, but not the teacher! Although Eric did not know it, he was destined to become a pupil at that school; for this was the Lancaster Royal Grammar School and he would undoubtedly take some lessons in that classroom.
As we became older, we explored the surrounding streets – all named after places in Scotland - the swings, seesaws and American Jockey on the Low Moor or roll down the grassy banks there and roam the wonderful Williamson’s Park. It was a happy, carefree life in the 1950’s and so unforgettable.
On a few occasions, when we had gone to bed, our beds adjacent to one another’s, separated by the party wall, I would on the wall, lightly mind, or parents might also hear the tapping; after a pause, the same number of taps and spacing would be repeated by Eric. If I dallied, Eric would prompt the next recital until a parent on one side or the other would tell us to get to sleep.
Goodnight my friend Eric and God bless you until we hopefully meet again.
Leonard