大象传媒

My name is Julie Weeks and my Father, John Wickstead died on January 29th 2005, aged 66. He had regailed our family with this story for as long as I can remember and it only seems fitting to make sure that it is entered onto the site even though he is not here to do it himself. He was born in Basingstoke on January 21st 1939 and this is his story.

Dad's parents were matron and master of various poor law institutions around the country during the war years. They were living at Wednesfield where Edward and Doris Wickstead were house parents at Newcross Hospital running a place where Sailors could stay over when they did not have time to go home on leave. Dad went to the Coronation School and the family lived in the hospital residence.

One day, aged about five, Dad went to school and whislt standing on the paly ground was asked where his gas mask was. He had forgetten it and got into a great deal of trouble. He really did not see why he had gotten into trouble as he did not understand why his gas mask was so important.

What he had failed to infrom his teachers was that along with most boys his age they kept so many different things in their gas mask cases that their gas masks would probably have taken to long to extracate from thier boxes anyway.

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