Light and dark

Ah, the sun appears to be staying out; how marvellous. At this time of year, it really warms the bones, don't you find?

But perhaps you don't feel the cold so much at your age. At least, that's what I have to assume, given the number of young people who dress as if it were summer, rather than winter. Where are the hats, the scarves, the warm mittens? As I said, changed times indeed.

The world was a very different place when young Charles and I first met. Compared to this green and airy park, London was almost unrecognisable; a hellish sight.

You must remember that then, homes and factories alike poured out thick black smoke, with the effect that almost everywhere was covered in a layer of soot. Stand still long enough, and it would settle on you like a fine black snow - as I found to my cost, waiting for the generosity of passers-by.

I remember sitting on the pavement, trying to find shelter near the doorway of a building, shivering and filthy. A sorry sight I must have been - and yet, when young Master Dickens happened past, I fancied there was at least one individual sorrier for himself then I.

Did I mention that he worked in a boot-blacking factory? Well, from head to toe, the filthy black griminess of the unfortunate boy advertised his position to the whole world.

And yet - and yet - this young fellow, who was working hard to repay his father's debts, paused to look in sympathy at me. And then, can you imagine? He reached into the pocket of his grubby coat, pulled out a farthing and placed it into my hat.



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