On Friday the thirteenth of March 1953 in Mill bungalow Darsham Suffolk I was born in a bungalow with no running water or indoor sanitary facilities. The doctor that was present said to my parents this baby is not well I will give him an injection and return in the morning to see how he is doing. My mother said she felt sure that the needle would pass right through me. The bungalow was damp and infested with rats and mice, as they chewed holes through the floorboards my father would nail flattened food tins over the holes to keep them out. He collected drinking water from a cottage down the street using his bicycle handlebars to hang the buckets of water on every evening.

The next morning the doctor arrived to see me and was surprised that I was still alive. My mother said he seems to be ok, the doctor admitted that he had returned expecting to right out my death certificate (what a bedside manner). Cause of death would have been bronchitis.

We later moved to a house near Darsham railway station that was not damp or infested with rodents. I evidently thrived in this new environment as did my parents who went on to provide me with a sister. I have little recollection of my older brother Brian at this stage who apparently looked after me very well.

We then moved to Westleton for a while we lived next door to my mother’s sister on one side and her brother opposite this meant a lot of contact with my cousins. I started school while here I don’t think I was overly impressed by school but enjoyed the social aspect of it. While in Westleton my mother’s father died I do not remember him but my mother told me that while he was ill in bed I threw his new gloves into the fire. I of course cannot remember the incident but he told my mother not to punish me. He died of his first illness, when asked if he had a headache by the doctor he explained that he had never had one in his whole life so was unsure what it was. It’s a shame that I cannot remember meeting him he seems to have been an extraordinary man. While living here I discovered some traits within myself that were not good. For reasons unknown, my brother Brian and I were standing on top of the chicken hut when he pushed me off, also for reasons unknown. I suffered a sprained ankle and was somewhat incapacitated for a while. After my recovery he was tormenting me as older brothers do, when I picked up the yard broom and swung it at his head, knocking him senseless if not unconscious. This seems to have been the start of my temper as it became known. On the plus side I did not seem to get tormented by Brian or anybody else, for several years to come I would happily respond with punches to anyone that I felt deserved it. My father had a job that meant he worked away and left on Sunday evening on his motorbike and returned on Friday night. As he left he would let me ride on the pillion to the bottom of the cul-de-sac which I loved to do, I did however fall of on one occasion and walked back to the house very ashamed. I also fell out of a van while on a day trip out, sitting on my father’s lap in the passenger seat I became car sick, I assume that he opened the door for me before the vehicle had stopped and I fell out, I remember lying on the grass verge watching the van come to a halt up the road away. I suffered no injuries.

We were not long in Westleton and moved back to Darsham to a farm cottage it had a huge garden but no indoor toilet and a tin bath.