Jug

Many, many (many, many, many) years ago, on a Sunday morning, my brother and I would be dispatched from one of the houses in this street to either (a) go and catch 'tiddlers' (sticklebacks) in the pond behind me (see extra) or, (b) more commonly, to collect my grandad and uncle from the pub on the corner so we could have our Sunday dinner. They would often walk back with a pint jug in one hand and a grandchild in the other. 

The house has long since been sold and the pub is quite different but it still brings a smile to my face when I go back. 

Lunch with my brother was fun, and quite long; we got home well after 8pm (and it only takes and hour to get there).