I was born, in Yorkshire, nine days after war was declared. My father, very soon afterwards, went to volunteer for the forces, saying, 'Those Jerries aren't going to get my lad!' He failed his medical, and was so disappointed that he got drunk, for the first and only time in his life. We lived on the outskirts of Bradford, so we never saw any enemy action at all, even though the centre of Bradford was bombed. I remember, as a toddler, walking with my mother through the centre of Bradford (it must have been just after the war) and passing Rawson Meat and Fish Market, which had been bombed and burnt out. I noticed the scorch marks above the window openings, but thought nothing of it. It was just - well, part of the scenery - so that was something that people lived with. We had shortages of some things, of course, and ration books had to be taken when we went shopping, but it was the way things were. My wife's father was in a reserved occupation, so he never went to war. I'm sorry if this is a bit disappointing, but that was my experience of the war. I knew that there was a war on, but I didn't know what a war actually was. Some soldiers were billeted at a school not far from our house, and I climbed on a fence to have a look. In 1961, I was stationed in Colchester, doing my National Service, when by pure chance, I met one of the soldiers. Small world, isn't it?