I found this book when I was on holiday at my aunties in the fifties. It was a hot summer, and I would lay on the bed with the window open, lace curtains blowing, and read Onions In The Stew by Betty MacDonald, for hours at a time. I was only eleven years old, but loved the book. As the years progressed I read other Betty MacDonald novels and they are also full of humour, which reminds me of those far off summers when I was a young boy. Of all her...