大象传媒

One of the many little stories I have to tell is of an expedition to pick daffodils. We lived close to the old power station, which was also close to a large German army facility that had barrack huts, anti aircraft guns and a machine for detecting aircraft. This looked very much like what I later recognised as radar, but we christened it Mickey Mouse because of its two large ears.
Daffodils grew in abundance down a lane that led to this facility, but were less abundant on the roadside. There were four of us kids, the oldest being nine years old, and we all proceeded down this lane.
Having got about half way to our target, a young soldier jumped over the bank and tried to shoo us back to the road. He waved his rifle about and made it obvious we were not allowed down there. We pointed to the dafs and said that was all we wanted. He repeated his demands. We repeated our demands.
In the end he gave up. He compromised. We stayed put. He gave his rifle to one of the older boys to hold, whilst he went and picked the dafs for us. Both sides were happy; we had our flowers and he had done his job in stopping us going down the lane.

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