My paternal grandmother owned several Staffordshire figurines.

When I was quite young, the journey from Balham to Maida Vale would terrify me as I found the ornaments scary.

One was an old crone (probably about my age now) who had several balloons.  I envisaged that, aside from selling balloons, she would wait besides the Guillotine, cackling, smoking a small clay pipe and swearing in French.

There were also plates on the walls too.  This confused me – did my north London relatives stand up and eat – and eat sideways?

The plates mostly depicted hunting scenes – I assume my nan went out, after I’d left, to look for stags running wild up and down Baker Street?

None of my south London relatives had ornaments or plates defying gravity.  We had no hunting on Wandsworth Common so, if we had have had plates, they’d have shown a Black Maria; Princess Anne opening the new Balham Sainsbury’s or local lad, Mike Sarne, inviting EastEnders stars outside.

If I didn’t have a pathological fear of birds, I’d have loved three ducks hovering over my fireplace – readying themselves to dump something on balloon lady below.  Now, that would have made her swear!