The ordinary becomes extraordinary when viewed through the long tunnel of time – and Irene Spencer’s memories of her childhood prove just that.

Born in Workington, Mrs Spencer now lives in Durham Hill, Carlisle, after moving around the county with her policeman husband, the late Bill Spencer.

She has two sons, four grandchildren and five great-grandchildren

Ten years ago, just a year after her husband died she, was mugged and left lying with a broken hip and having a heart attack.

She was in hospital for a month. “I lost my confidence and haven’t been so mobile since, but I still have a good social life – or did before lockdown.”

She was encouraged to send a story to Growing Old Disgracefully, a charity providing inspiration to older people to live life to the full.

Constrained only by the number of words she could use, this is a snapshot of a lovely life:

“I was born in October, 1928, an only child who was always very protected and loved. I spent a lot of time at my grandparent’s home which was a couple of miles away. Grandpa died when I was nine years old but I still remember him ­— his moustache, his pipe and the songs he used to sing.

“My Grandma and Auntie were very good seamstresses and I always had lovely dresses to wear. I can remember standing on the large kitchen table while I was being fitted and having hems adjusted.

“One of my early memories was my Dad taking my photograph outside our house on the main road. I was three years old and dressed for winter in a new coat and beret and gaiters buttoned up to my knees. We had to hurry in case a bus came along.

“When I was about seven, my Dad bought a car ­— a Singer 7, maroon in colour, shaped like a box with absolutely no ‘comfort’ features. It was very basic, but oh! Just to have a car was luxury indeed. Its registration number was JW387 ­— forever known by all the family as John Willie. We had wonderful trips out ­— not much in the way of traffic in the ‘30s. We always took picnics and a full car­— Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, all got trips out with us. One of my Uncles was a cabinet maker and he made a large trunk which was painted to match the car and which was strapped on to a luggage grid at the back ­— a necessity when we were going on holiday.

“Just as war broke out in September, 1939, I started at the local grammar school. My 6 years there were all war years, so lots of restrictions. The school was mixed, boys and girls. All the teachers wore gowns and I found them very intimidating.

“The highlight of the year was the Christmas party in the hall. For a few weeks beforehand we stayed behind on a Friday to learn to dance ­— barn dance, quadrilles, valeta, military two-step and more. The party started with the Grand March. Boys lined up on one side of the hall and girls on the other and we marched until we were in sets of four couples when we then did The Lancers ­— what great fun that was! Most of us would be picked up by parents at the end of the evening as the black-out was in force.

“ My Dad worked shifts on the steelworks and also served in the Home Guard. Sometimes when he was working, Mum and I would go to the pictures, which was a great form of entertainment and escapism for everyone. No sweets to munch on ­— perhaps a small bag with some cocoa and sugar ­— dip the finger in and suck away, or perhaps a carrot cut up into bite-size pieces.”

Mrs Spencer had many more tales to tell of times gone by, including the holidays taken near Crosscanonby.

“We used to say Allonby, but it wasn’t. We spent the summers there and I loved it ­— and the car would go back and forwards almost daily, bringing family down from Workington.”