When we lived in Roache Street, Dingle, Auntie Maureen used to bring her daughters to our house, our cousins Janice and Pauline. Pat, Irene and I used to be there as well, Uncle Frank would come in and before long he had us all fighting and then would leave us sharply, laughing. He was good at causing chaos and then leaving. He also had a habit of pinching our food. He would come in and distract us and when we were looking to where he had pointed he would take a chip or what was on our plate, sneakily, put it in his mouth and pretend he hadn't taken anything. Took us a long time to phatham out what he was sneakily doing. We were travelling up to Kendal to look at a holiday place where Uncle Peter, Auntie Maureen and the two girls, Janice and Pauline where going to stay. They were travelling in Uncle Peters Morris Minor. We were travelling in Uncle Franks Ford Anglia. Unbeknown to us he had no tax on the car, so no tax disc, he didn't tell us till we were half way up to Kendal. We came to this junction where there was a policeman directing the traffic for whatever reason, of course, big queues built up and in the 60's the police would wave you forward to move. Well, Uncle Frank was like a hot potato on fire, sweating profusely. When it came to our turn to move and Uncle Frank didn't want the policeman to see he had no tax disc on the car, I'm sure we went around that corner on two wheels, it felt like it because we were going that fast, to top it all he then said, "that was good wasn't it'. We were all shaking.