by Max Maxfield
When I was a little lad about six years old growing up in England circa 1963, my mom and dad were both working, so I used to spend the halcyon days of summer up the road at my Auntie Barbara’s house hanging out with my cousin Gillian (who was one year younger than me) and the other kids on the street.
You have to remember that our homes were small by American standards (“three-up, three-down, semi-detached,” which they call a duplex in the USA), with correspondingly sized furniture and appliances. For example, the typical fridge, which fit under a kitchen countertop, could store only around one day’s worth of food along with a small ice box capable of holding six cubes of ice (reserved for special occasions), a pair of popsicles, and a pack of frozen peas.