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I was born in December 1937 at Paignton in Devon. My father joined the Territorials before the war and was sent to France. He returned to this country via the Dunkirk evacuation and was hospitalised and then invalided out of the service. I still have the silver lapel badge such discharged servicemen were issued with so that they could show they had served their country. During a visit by my parents to my wife and family here in Lincolnshire we were passing through the Bullring in Horncastle when my mother remarked that the Red Lion pub was where she stayed when she came to visit my father when he was in hospital at Revesby. She used to catch a bus from Horncastle to Revesby. That was the first I knew that either of them had been to Lincolnshire. I think the hospital may have been where the huts, which can still be seen and known locally as the Italian prisoner of war camp.

My father returned to his previous occupation as a butcher. He bought a treadle sewing machine for 2 shillings and sixpence and made a complete uniform, including hat, from his army greatcoat. He made lots of clothes for my sister and I after that even though he had no previous experience of sewing. His father was a tailor so it could have been in his genes! It may be in mine because I shorten trousers and make curtains.

We had one of the steel tables as a shelter, not one of those dug into the garden. We did not get many bombs dropped on Paignton but there were often air raid warnings — raids going to Plymouth no doubt. I can remember often going to bed upstairs but waking up in the morning under the steel table without realising that I had been moved. I never realised how lucky I was to have my father at home — it just seemed normal. We had evacuees at my school but they were no different than the rest of the boys and girls from the local area and wer were all treated the same.

Although food was rationed I never felt deprived. We had a good sized garden and grew vegetables and soft fruit and also kept chickens. A percentage of the eggs produced were collected by the packing station. The milk was scalded each day to produce Devonshire cream which eked out the butter ration. Cakes were baked and jam made from the fruit we grew. My great uncle who lived in the far end of our three house terrace had an orchard so we had apples, pears and plums in season. My grandmother lived in the middle house and also kept chickens so we were able to share any chickens which were past laying. We also used her garden for growing vegetables etc. When we had chicken it was padded out by means of a boiled suet pudding used in the same way as Yorkshire pudding is used — Devonshire dumplings? When meat came off ration and steak chops became available the same type of pudding but with raisins in it was used in the same way. Having a butcher for a father did mean that we were first in the queue when anything unrationed such as offal, was available.

During the build-up to D-day thee was an American tank transporter parked outside the house with a guard. Mum and Dad used to give him cups of tea and coffee even though rations were short. One of them gave us the first orange I can ever remember seeing. It looked massive to me.

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