An extraordinary memoir from a 94-year-old man who remembers everyday life in a North London now long gone: the hardships and deprivations of a life of poverty; but also the resourcefulness and determination of a community determined to survive between the wars. Sidney Day was born and raised in 'a street where there was so much villainry going on, so many drunks and gambling and Gawd knows what, that at night the police would only come down in twos. Everyone knew it as Tiger Bay.' In a breathtakingly original memoir, Sidney Day, who is now ninety-two, remembers everyday life in a London now long gone. Growing up in grinding poverty, his Dad away in the trenches, Sid had to take every opportunity he could get to make a few bob. From the age of six he was having to scavenge, soon learning how to run rings round the local bobby, Ernie Costen. With relish, he relates how 'going out on the fiddle' sometimes put him and his friends on the wrong side of the law. Breaking in to the tailors' shops to kit themselves out in fifty-bob suits was all part of keeping up appearances. As he says, 'we was all at it.' couples in Parliament Hill Fields; of public baths and washpots; of bread and dripping round the range. And he goes on to tell of the Second World War and his determination to survive for his wife and family - 'the only thing that ever counted.' Sidney Day is funny, irreverent, warm-hearted; a voice straight from the past.