Mum and Dad, back row right, with Uncle Bernard between them.
Grandpa passed on soon after this, but Grandma later moved in with us at Highlands.
Notice the steel bench seat in the background,
which Sally has preserved and we still use to
this day.
One Xmas before they left, they loaded us kids up into two jeeps (one for Sally and one for me) and took us to a Xmas Party they put on at their Polebrook air force base.
I remember all the courses where on one plate, meat course right their with the jello. It was great.
They probably had better food resources than we did and shared it with us.
I have always felt warmly to the States and their people, it's possible these early positive experiences planted the seed.
Flashing forward to 2012 when I am writing this, I am very concerned for the current political climate Stateside, especially given the recent election results. During the cold war Krushev was quoted " The United States can only be beaten from the within." That is worry some, but it is difficult to campaign against Santa Clause, when he is giving away free stuff to 47% of the population. Not that it will effect me, but it is sad to see such a great nation in peril.
I enjoyed sailing my little yacht on the boating pool. We would take in a show at nearby Yarmouth.
Our holiday timing coincided each year with another family, the Peeles. They had a turkey farm in Norfolk.
Two daughters, but no son's for me to hang out with. This holiday always covered 8th and 10th of September, being Dad's birthday and their weeding anniversary.
I was born they tell me at Lewisham hospital in London on Dec 3 1938. I know nothing of my natural parents, but I was fortunate, as was also my Sister to be adopted by loving parents. By all accounts seems I was quite a handful and that did not change over the years.
My father was the village baker, at Warmington, a small village in Northamptonshire, 80 miles N. of London, far enough away to avoid the ravages of the war. I was adopted at the age of three, so I guess I was a Blitz survivor, although I have no memory of any of it.
I remember Dad teaching me to ride a bike. He ran alongside me holding me up on the street in front of the village shed (hall). At the end of one of the runs he announced he had not actually been holding me that time. That gave me the confidence to make a start on the hundreds of thousands of miles I would ride a bike.
I also remember we had an old car at the bottom of the garden, which was our "den"
Dad was thrown into the First World War at age 18 (just a kid), what an awful experience that must have been. Then he was drafted into the family bakery business, eventually taking over from his father.
I used to enjoy scooting around the streets with my flat go cart, with Ian Wade from across the street riding shot gun.
Another regular playmate was Malcom Brudenell, from the large Brudenell family up the Great Green. Every Sat night a picture show was put on at the Village shed across the street. Tarzan was a regular feature, not to be missed.
As our physiques developed we where anxious to demonstrate our prowess with demonstrable wresting. Oliver Taylor who lived next to the chapel and Ken Harbour, who sadly passed away a few years ago being apposite combatants.
On one occasion the Taylor family, kindly took me on a weeks vacation with them to N.Wales. Naturaly we did the Snowdon thing.
We attended the village Methodist chapel every Sunday and occasionally had the visiting preacher, Mr.Darlington for a meal. He used to cook cornish pasties.
I attended the village primary school, of whom the dedicated headmaster was a Mr.Essam. Mum was later to teach at this school, following a twist of fate.
Four years after the end of the Second World War, they went into partnership with a local Farmer and his wife the Oakleys, to develop a smallholding.
While waiting for a bungalow to be built we crashed in a caravan and large shed, which was fine. Sister Sally was away to Austria and London I believe.
Mum had a rough time with Flu during this time, so thing where not easy for her. A large orchard was planted with apple trees ( a painfully long term investment), a greenhouse erected and some pig sties. A flock of free range hens rounded off the livestock.
While the idea of a smallholding was very romantic and Dad was finally doing what he wanted to do, unfortunately it was at a time when commercial enterprises where specializing with large pig producing facilities and factory like battery egg production. This time was to come again a few decades later as Organic Produce became the buzz word, but their timing was off and competition was stiff.
Dad hired a helper, Arthur Davidson, the two Arthurs worked well togther being about the same age and disposition.
Grandma Fife came to live with us, which resulted in my pocket money increasing a shilling a week, which was much appreciated. She used to cook Scottish pancakes on a grill on the Aga cooker.
Sadly Mr.Oakley died. Mrs. Oakley built a bungalow next door, and although I was young I could sense there was tension building up.
At age 10 I took the 11 plus exam to try to get into Laxton school. Mr.Essam came cycling up to Highlands one day to announce that I had passed the exam and would be going to Laxton Grammer School starting Sept 20th 1950. More expense for Mum & Dad. Although I had a scholarship, suits where required with shirts with detachable collars, sports wear, scouting wear plus plus.
Sally meantime was finishing at Stamford High School.
We had a little dog Dixie. a mostly white little terrier. The start of my life long affection towards canines.
NV 2184 AEG 618