It's Saturday afternoon, and very quiet on here, so pull up a chair and I'll tell you a story:
We were still on a late summer holiday in Hastings in 1939, when Mr Chamberlain intoned on the radio, in a solemn voice: This country is at war with Germany.
My parents soon went back home, but I at about ten years old, was boarded as an evacuee with some elderly ladies and attached to a school from London.
Some nine months after, even Hastings was deemed too dangerous for us and the word went out that we were going to South Wales. I was provided with a postcard to inform my parents and soon found myself on a train bound west.
Fast forward some seventy years, and I happened to pass the Imperial war Museum in Lambeth, where an exhibition was on about children in WW2, something to do that afternoon.
The rooms were quite dark, and the displays were viewed in small lit up windows. A little way in I had an eerie feeling that I had seen this exhibit before. It was my postcard from Hastings.
My writing has improved a bit since then. Dennis.
