大象传媒

I was born ten days before Pearl Harbour. The Battle of Britain had finished over a year before.

Mum had a prime job during the war. She used to paint blue lines round kit bags, to denote they belonged to the RAF. Not unreasonably, she become a little fed up with this, and thought pregnancy might be a more interesting option.

Just before my birth, she was living at the time with my grandmother in Marble Hill Close Twickenham. They got on a bus to Twickenham Junction and then a trolley bus (667) to Hampton Court. Mum checked into the Jewish run Bearsted Maternity Hospital, after her friend Ruby Mears had made a phone call to book a bed. The building is still there. An imposing white faced building a few yards up from the palace entrance opposite Hampton Court Green. In those days mothers and babies were kept in hospital for a fortnight after birth.

Dad was away with the RAF. When he was called up he was asked what was a quarter times a quarter. 'A sixteenth' he replied. This appeared to impress them, as they sent him to RAF Cosford, Wolverhampton to train to be an engine fitter. He ended up working on the Rolls Royce Merlin engines of Lancasters. He was lucky. As ground crew he saw very little action. Occasionally suffering white knuckle rides with rookie pilots on test flights. He always reckoned his little bit of knowledge probably saved his life and enabled mine. Then he was sent to RAF Dumfries. Rather than deliver new aircraft to front line stations, RAF Dumfries was deliberately out of the way and gave the RAF the opportunity to prepare its aircraft properly. I looked it up. It now seems to be a trading estate.

Later he was posted to RAF Lindholme (first known as RAF Hatfield Woodhouse) Yorkshire and we lived in Wheatley Hills Doncaster. I acquired my long lost Yorkshire accent. There I had my first serious encounter with a girl. Fiona was her name and she lived next door. We were both three. Mum bought Dad a second hand post office bike. Obviously there was no such thing as a new anything. This bike was apparently indestructible and weighed a ton. Anyway, he reckoned he cycled nine miles to attend to his engines. He used to return with accumulaters on his handlebars, which powered the landladies radio. He took them back in the morning for recharging. Unfortunately, the spilt acid burnt holes in his trousers. Later on he managed to acquire a motor bike - presumably running on RAF petrol. I was occasionally taken for a ride seated on the tank.

The RAF threw a party for us kids. An RAF truck picked us up. I got lost and was found wondering around a hanger amongst all the planes.

Later on, back in Twickenham. I remember sheltering under a metal frame because an air raid was on. My wife was born in August 1944 at West Middlesex hospital apparently during an air raid. All the medical staff are said to have dived under the delivery table. I presume the raids were flying bombs (V1's) as we had air superiority at that time.

Dad was transferred to the Fleet Air Arm with the intention of working as an engine fitter on an aircraft carrier. Then the Americans dropped two atomic bombs on Japan. So that was that and he didn't have to go. End of WW2.

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