A trip down Memory Lane - The good old days of grown-ups and Dubonnet

WHEN I was a lad, our house was like a scene from a sitcom, always bursting at the seams with grownups.

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Our small living room was a veritable circus of friends, neighbors, strange relatives and relative strangers.

You name it: the rent man, the Man From The Pru and even the bailiffs made appearances, all larger than life and overflowing with bonhomie.

Or, in the case of Aunty Glad, overflowing with Dubonnet!

I'd often find myself wedged under the dining table, no easy feat when you're 5ft tall at 12, eavesdropping on the fascinating conversations buzzing around me.