A few words from somebody who can see beyond our ‘lockdown’.
I was just a twinkle in my father’s eye when this photograph was taken on June 8th 1945. My mother is the lady front right, and the little boy she has her hand on is my older brother, who’d have been about two at the time. The face behind the camera is almost certainly my father’s. He loved gadgets and was a keen photographer as my trip to the family photo box has just shown me.
The scene is Regent Street in Kettering, Northamptonshire, my grandparents’ home, where I was born and lived for the first year of my life. It’s a place that features in some of my novels, and I have happy memories of it – a secure, tranquil place where I knew I was loved.
But life in the years immediately before I was born were far from secure or tranquil, and it’s only by living through…
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