ABSTRACT
My mother, Daisy, was born in Scarborough in July 1911 to an unmarried woman. The twin effects of grinding poverty and social stigma drove her to desperation. Unlike many women at that time, my grandmother rejected the options of abandonment or infanticide, usually by smothering. Instead, she looked for a home for my mother and the manner in which she did this was quite extraordinary. She took my mother in her arms and knocked on doors in her neighbourhood until she found someone who would accept her into their family. This was a form of care where a seemingly callous action was actually in a crude way compassionate. At least she had some knowledge of the person who was going to care for the infant.
