I’d known Mervyn since we were in prams – apparently my eldest sister and Mervyn’s sister used to walk us to the local park. I played for the same football team, we used to sneak into the pubs together (he looked old enough… I didn’t!), he worked as a bingo caller in one of the Cleveleys arcade – I think it was called the Starlight.

He enjoyed pinball machines, soul music and rode a pale blue and white Lambretta scooter with lots of chrome accessories. And that scooter would be the subject of an on-going issue with my mother for nearly 20 years!!

Mervyn got an apprenticeship in Fleetwood and would ride to and from work past my mother’s house – any excuse to stop for a brew and quite often I would share my tea with him – for some reason my mother felt he needed to be ‘fattened up’.

His Dad was a bit of an enigma – often seated in front of the television, his Mother leaning on the door frame talking to noone and he would just get up and leave the room. He worked at the ICI I think, and Mrs Sherlock never worked.

Anyway, they had a heavy oak dresser in the dining room and the long top drawer was crammed with hearing devices – plug in, battery operated, ear horns – every type you could think of. And all because the old man was ‘mutton’.

Fast forward to the wedding between Mervyn and Lesley (1977?) and I was seated next to Mervyn’s Dad talking loudly to him. He’d had a few drinks when he turned to me and said ‘Andrew will you stop shouting, I can hear perfectly well!’

I apologised and explained to which he replied – ‘it’s for her!’

So, for about 10 years he had feigned deafness so authentically that she had tried everything to help him… and maybe that was their secret!!