Flea's on board
If mother seen me scratching your head, all hell would break loose, up went the shout " Billy Sinclair here " pointing to a spot on the floor, " Stand there and don't move, or you will get one of these," SLAP !!!! so I was rooted to the spot, mother would appear from the bathroom, sit on the chair, and somehow twisted her legs, locking me in, unable to move, cause she knew, I would have run and took the slaps later
Out would come her Bone Comb and a bottle of mixture, I can still smell it to this day, a clear bottle, hexagon shaped with ribbed sides, I don't know whether it killed fleas, or ward them off, it smelled horrible, she used to dab it on my head with cotten wool, you couldn't go out to play, cause everyone knew the smell, so I used to nick my father's Brylcream, to hide the smell from my mates I looked like George Raft with blond hair
My mother searched and searched all over my head, Flea Hunting, fore fingers and thumbs, now I was the same as the other lads, and mother would find the odd one or two, and I would get a slap for each one found, mother would get the flea, squeeze it between finger and thumb, quickly place it on her thumb nail, and with the other thumb nail press them together, you would hear a crack, dead !!, then I got a slap as if it was my fault, then she would use the Bone Comb over and over in case they had laid eggs, I always got the slap, to remind me to be more careful who I played with or sat beside, as if you could.