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"This story was submitted to the site by the ´óÏó´«Ã½'s Peoples War Team in the East Midlands with Muriel Walshs permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions"

I can remember my mother being very upset about my brother being at Dunkirk — we had no idea where he was — I can remember looking out of the window just praying for news of him. One evening my sister and I were both in bed and my aunt, whose son was eventually killed, got a telephone call from my brother to say that he was safe and back in England. He couldn’t say where he was but said it was important to him that people knew he was safe. The only thing that he was concerned about was the fact he’d lost his violin. My aunt said "bugger your violin". My aunt had a tandem so decided to ride to my mother’s house — 2 miles over rough country ground. They both wore false teeth. My aunt noticed that her teeth didn’t fit and they found that they’d got each others teeth in the wrong mouths. They got on the bike — my aunt on the back tried to steer the bike (which you can’t do) so they kept falling off. Eventually they got to us and there was much rejoicing all round.

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