My mother Maureen Buckley Shaw was born in India during the hey-day of British colonialism. My no-nonsense, "where there's muck there's brass" grandfather obliged her to return to England to be educated: she swapped sunshine, warmth and a leisured home environment for the gloomy ginnels of Hollinwood in the shadows of the dark Satanic (cotton) mills of Oldham. War stopped her going to University. She was instead sent by the Chemical Inspectorate to check explosives and trigger mechanisms at Risley Royal Ordnance Factory....and to meet my father. The two things were not dissimilar. Her mother said, "He'll make your life an adventure " Mum wasn't so sure.........but she married Dad anyway. She was a lover of Life and all things living; she was kind and generous; she was intelligent and perceptive; she was humorous and articulate; she was unbiased, unprejudiced and devoid of bitterness or hate; she was inclusive and gregarious; she was understanding of human frailty and supportive of its outfall; she inspired confidence and respect; she was a superb teacher, cook, gardener and mother and, to cap it all, she was warm and affectionate.'A HUGELY ENTERTAINING BIOGRAPHY sprinkled with the author's customary vulgarity - something taught him by his father with his mother's eventual assiduous assistance.'