Lady And The Tramp

The Lady and the Tramp I took the bus from Ellesmere Port to Birkenhead, from there the underground to Liverpool, walked to Hanover Street; took a rickety lift up four floors to a studio where Miss Summers tried to teach me to speak posh English. A hopeless task my Norse accent refused to be relegated clung to my throat like phlegm, the size of a jelly fish, and anyway, when Miss Summer said my own voice was sexy I decided to take acting lessons with her instead. Alas this didn’t last; the doctor said I was fit to go back to sea and I was sent to join a ship in Aruba. I loved Miss Summers used to meet her secretly in ´ Southport on her days off, impressed me with her noble manners it was like making love to a duchess. The problem with being a seafarer is that when he returns, life ashore has moved on. My teacher lady had an acting job, when I rang her voice was arctic and, yes, she had also gone and married a doctor.