I have a real soft spot for cockneys - because I found whilst living down there, they are truly friendly and welcoming, without being loud about it. I lived on a very long street which ran from Upton Park to Stratford and each evening as I walked down from teaching at East Ham College, I would see an elderly gentleman standing at his front gate. After a time, he said hello and when he heard my name, regaled me with tales of when he was a POW in Germany /no, not torture, the laughs, getting the beer for the camp etc/ and german songs he had learnt. Eventually, I would buy a couple of cakes on the Green street on my way home and he would put the kettle on. One Saturday he asked me in - to watch the races. I just sat there doodling not concentrating, which I should have done for a better image, as I am not a sports fan. Sadly, they took Goo to a care home after he went into hospital with a minor matter and he died soon afterwards as is usually the case.. my mum too. His niece was in the house like a shot, though they had never visited him before. I couldn't help reflecting, how sad things are for us oldies.