Born just before WW2, collectible aircraft toys became pretty scarce when war broke out. My father was away in uniform contributing to the downfall of Hitler and Mussolini, and I had to look elsewhere for the three items in my meagre collection.
The first was a battered Dinky toy model of what hindsight now tells me was probably an Armstrong Whitworth Ensign, with much-chipped silver painted finish. Surviving examples, particularly if they still have the box, are likely to change hands for ridiculous sums, but to me it was priceless.
An industrious and friendly uncle, an ARP warden and cement supplier for airfield construction (so in a "Reserved Occupation", however much he volunteered for military service) had a wondrously well equipped shed and tool set. He made me a huge wooden model of a Vickers Wellington, with lovingly painted camouflage finish and RAF roundels, with two nails in the nose turret as guns. Almost as big as me, aged about 4.
In the summer of 1944 the V1 "doodlebug" flying bombs roared over our home in Maidstone, exciting for me, but deadly for others, and uncle made me one which made me envied at infant school among my peers.
Oh how I would love to still have those three treasured pieces now! My grandchildren would think them pretty tame compared to their Playstations etc., but they were better than gold dust to me. I think it's clear that my fascination with aviation started in those far-off days.