'Honest, grippingly readable, funny and uplifting' MAGGIE GEE
Springfield Road is a journey into childhood in the late 1970s, a time of halfpenny sweets, fish and chips in newspaper, scrumping apples and foraging for conkers. Set in the dawn of Thatcher's Britain, it's a salute to every curly-top, scabby knee'd, mixed-up, half-crazy kid with NHS glasses, free school dinners and hand-me- downs, as told by the daughter of an Irish jazz musician and a Jamaican go-go dancer.
It's about discovering that life is unfair, that there are bullies out there, and that parents die; yet it is the very antithesis of a misery memoir. It's a vivid, uplifting tale that seeks out the humour, colour and tenderness in the world, and when you read it you will say Hey! I remember, we did that too!
You might say: I remember being closer to the ground; I remember summers were longer and how oranges were bigger; I remember struggling to comprehend sex and war, life and death, heaven and hell, and perhaps you’ll say, I remember I missed my dad too…
Springfield Road is a journey into childhood in the late 1970s, a time of halfpenny sweets, fish and chips in newspaper, scrumping apples and foraging for conkers. Set in the dawn of Thatcher's Britain, it's a salute to every curly-top, scabby knee'd, mixed-up, half-crazy kid with NHS glasses, free school dinners and hand-me- downs, as told by the daughter of an Irish jazz musician and a Jamaican go-go dancer.
It's about discovering that life is unfair, that there are bullies out there, and that parents die; yet it is the very antithesis of a misery memoir. It's a vivid, uplifting tale that seeks out the humour, colour and tenderness in the world, and when you read it you will say Hey! I remember, we did that too!
You might say: I remember being closer to the ground; I remember summers were longer and how oranges were bigger; I remember struggling to comprehend sex and war, life and death, heaven and hell, and perhaps you’ll say, I remember I missed my dad too…
