Our family lived in a semi-detached house that was quite new when war broke out. My parents were great friends with Mr & Mrs Woolf who lived next door, in fact they had already become “Uncle and Aunty” to me.  I was 2 years old when war was declared and it made no difference at all to me - at the time.

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The first time it impacted on me was at the age of 2¼ when I saw and remembered the upholstery of an Austin 12.  I am able to date this recollection exactly as it was the day my sister left by train. We were at the front of Cardiff station and the back door of the car was open.  I distinctly remember seeing the criss-cross open webbing of a map pocket that was attached to the back of the driver's seat of Austin 12s in those days. There were no other opportunities to have seen this distinctive green leather, so it dates my earliest recollections.

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Another memorable moment on that same day was being told to wait at the foot of the steps to the platform while one of our party went back to buy something. I can remember the small milk container standing on the third step.  So why would this memory be indelibly etched in my otherwise brand new and as yet unused brain?  Go to evacuation. . . .