February 1941

I am one year old and find myself the subject of a newspaper advertisement!

'Good Home Wanted - for a brown-eyed little girl - one year old etc. etc.'

Well, at least it wasn't in the Pet section!

My new foster mother was a married lady whose husband was in the army and away fighting in the war.  She was childless and I suppose I was company for her and the money would have come in handy.

I stayed with her until her husband was invalided out the services and decided he didn't want someone else's toddler disrupting  his life - can't say I blame him. I did meet her when I was about 14 and she had gone on to have her own little girl, whom she named Christine.

Back I went into the bosom of my family - grandparents; uncle; father; brother and myself in a 2up, 2down cottage! I was 3 years old.

to be continued ...