The Lost Slippers
By Andy Hardman
A good few years ago, early 90s I think it was, my mum’s uncle died. He’d had alzheimers and had been going downhill for a while. He owned a terrace house in the Kirkdale area of Liverpool, an inner city suburb where kids still play football, ride bikes and play in the street. My dad was clearing out his house in preparation for selling it. One of the lads who was playing football in the street asked my dad if he could go inside to use the toilet (the front door was open as dad was moving out furniture and carpet). Dad was like “Yeh, sure”.
The kid came back out a few minutes later and said “Hey, mate. There’s some old fella upstairs looking for his slippers”. Surprised, Dad asked him what he looked like. The kid described my mum’s uncle. This has stayed with me ever since.
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