My memory is now a bit vague about some of the actual details, but I can recall that I was about 6 or 7 years of age at the time. My parents and myself were on our annual holiday in Wiltshire, visiting some very distant relations of my father on a day trip from Devizes - and I don't believe we had ever seen them before, or saw them since, that occasion. I do remember that they lived in rather a grand house (by our standards) attached to a horticultural business (something to do with roses I think).

We arrived about mid-day and I recall that our hired car had developed some sort of serious mechanical failure that could not be fixed until the following day when the local garage reopened (it was a Sunday). This chance happening necessitated an unscheduled overnight stay with my 'uncle and aunt' who were only too pleased to offer us a bed for the night. They had two daughters who were about my age - perhaps they were twins; I can no longer remember. I remember being introduced to the girls by my aunt and although shy at first, the ice was soon broken, and we played happily in the large walled garden until tea, and then again until bedtime approached.

My 'aunt' in particular was a rosy cheeked lady not unlike the typical stereotype of a jolly farmer's wife. I remember her bustling about in the large Aga equipped kitchen preparing the girl's bedtime drink (Ovaltine I think), which to my surprise she then carefully poured into two glass feeding bottles to which she attached teats (feeding bottles in those days were always glass and were unlike the wide-necked type in common use now). Although they were both well past the age that a normal child would need, or want to openly use, a baby's bottle, nothing was said by either parent that indicated that this was otherwise than normal routine in this household. Both girls eagerly accepted the offered bedtime bottles and clutching them tightly to their chests were carried upstairs to their bedroom by their father after wishing good night to the gathered adults.

Sleeping arrangements were soon sorted out for me also - I was to sleep in a spare bedroom adjoining the girl's room. On my way upstairs my aunt asked if I would like a warm drink - thinking nothing of it I replied that I would...
 
Within a short while I was undressed and tucked up in bed by my parents and given a good night kiss. I had almost fallen fast asleep when I heard faint footsteps in the hall and I sleepily opened my eyes to see my aunt enter my bedroom carrying a baby's bottle. She drew a chair closer to the bed and before I fully realised her intention she slipped the bottle teat between my lips and held it until I began to drink the contents. My feelings at the time were difficult to describe (even if I had known the meaning of the
words!) but elation, contentment and embarrassment were all jumbled together just about describes it. It seemed to take an age to finish the 'feed' but she occasionally spoke gentle words of encouragement as she held the bottle in place.

Finally the contents were drained and saying something like, 'I thought you would like that - my girls love their bedtime bottles!', she withdrew the teat from my mouth and before I had a chance to respond her hand went to her apron pocket and produced an 'all rubber' baby's dummy of a type not seen much these days. 'Have a nice dum-dum,' she said in a gentle encouraging way and placed it against my lips. My mouth opened almost involuntarily to accept the large teat. The dummy had a very distintive rubbery sort of aroma which is quite distinctive and quite unlike the types today, which are virtually odourless (especially the ultra modern silicon rubber type). The sense of smell in particular can evoke powerful images (who remembers school dinners!) and even today, well over 40 years ago, that smell instantly conjures up the mental image of that moment, frozen in time!

Sensing that I was now almost asleep she gave me a peck on the cheek, before turning the bedside light off and leaving the room - and a very confused seven year old sucking avidly on the dummy like a small infant.

In the morning I awoke with my dummy still in place. Thankful that no other adults (or even the girls) had seen me enjoying such a shameful practice for a seven year old boy. However, I could not resist a peek into my cousins bedroom. Both girls were still fast asleep, still sucking on their dummies like mine, and their feeding bottles lay half empty besides them in their bunk beds. I was sorely tempted to pick one up and drain the remaining contents, but the fear of discovery dissuaded me, as the household started to rise.

At breakfast in the morning nothing was said about the previous night's incident, and I believe my parents knew nothing of my aunt bottle-feeding me and giving me a 'dum-dum' to suck - the only actual evidence being three unwashed feeding bottles on the kitchen draining board. I still wonder about my aunt's motives and what would have happened if we had stayed longer. I also wonder what became of the girls, and for how long they kept up this nightly ritual - they would now be well into middle age and probably with their own children.

That the incident left such an impression on me cannot be denied. My 'aunt' little realised by her act of kindness how much she had influenced my life forever....

Saffy

This story is perfectly true, but it has a touch of fairy tale magic to it. Wiltshire, of course, is a county which reeks with mystery and magic - if my readers in Britain have never been to Avebury, and walked at sunrise around the mysterious stone circle there (Stonehenge is hopelessly commercialised, and the Avebury stones are older anyway), then I strongly suggest that they do so one day.

Wiltshire is also home to a number of chalk horses impressed on hillsides; either ancient Briton, or winsome eighteenth century follies, and, of course, Salisbury cathedral, so well known from John Constable's famous painting.

The unscheduled breakdown, the grand house, the walled garden, the mysterious relatives, and all in the setting of this loveliest and most ancient of English counties, all made a profound impression on me as I read this letter. Saffron was lucky to have spent at least one night being cared for by a woman who understood that what many boys love - and many girls too, apparently - is to be treated as a baby and given the comfort of a bottle feed and a dummy.
Susan