大象传媒

This story has been submitted by Alison Tebbutt, Derby CSV Action Desk on behalf of Ken Harrison. The author has given his permission and fully understands the site's terms and conditions

A young man I worked with in 1940 lived in the centre of town. Their street was a long row of terraced houses with long entries, with front doors in the entry. It was in the winter and or course no street lights at all during the war. Every house looked the same, but he automatically knew when he had arrived home. He took out his key and let himself in, but the clothes on the pegs in the lobby didn鈥檛 look familiar. Neither did the wallpaper and paint work. He could hear voices, but couldn鈥檛 recognise anybody, so he put his coat on again and quietly let himself out and he is still wondering whose house he entered.

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