I was in my cot. My Mother said I caused the Second World War. By the war's end I and my pals knew all the aircraft that flew around. My old man helped build Wellingtons and Warwicks and Windsors at Brooklands/Smith's Lawn/Wisley. We collected shrapnel and bits of a V-1 that landed close enough to leave hot bits that burned my fingers. The Avenue Sunbury on Thames. Abiding memory was of a POW [Kempton Park] detachment of Luftwaffe aircrew types, one of whom was allowed to show me pictures of his kid and who hugged me and burst into tears. Not directly involved, my childhood war was full of exciting moments like being thrown Chocolate bars, biscuits, Beamans Spearmint Gum while the passing US troops wolf whistled my Ma and her pals!
Later my Mother blamed every weather anomaly [snow/rain/lack of sun] on what she called "The Atom!". She smoked like a chimney, drank gin and let me put lead toy ships in my mouth while I played with my pals Ant and Mike in our cat **** laden sand pit!
Apparently Film Star Jessie Mathews lived next door and took me for pram rides but I don't remember that at all! She had gone by the time I could walk around.
Onward and upward!
