I had no way to judge whether we were poor, given that everything was rationed right up until my twelfth year, and everybody was , as far as I knew, in the same boat.

My father came over from Eire in 1935, and married my mother in April 1940, having already refused the option of remaining neutral (as an Irish citizen he was exempt from conscription), and joined the Royal Artillery, serving as a Bombardier on the Anti Aircraft batteries at Woolwich. Having a damaged hip, it was decided that he was unfit for active service, and he was medically discharged. He promptly joined the Local Defence Volunteers (later the Home Guard), and served continuously throughout the war.

After demob in 1946, he returned to his trade. He was a shopfitting joiner, a craftsman in the era of handmade timber shopfronts, but thousands of soldiers were pitched into an emerging job market, and wages were poor to abysmal.

He used to cart a complete kit of joiners tools in a huge black toolbox and a leather toolbag, and he would go off every morning, by bus, to whatever shop he was working on.

Sometimes he would be spending five hours a day on travelling to and from his eight hour shift, and that would be 6am till 9pm, with a twenty minute lunch break on the job.

He then would go out and do odd jobs on evenings and weekends, to support Mum, my younger brother, and me. A fiercely proud man, he wouldn't countenance the idea of my mother going to work, and she never did.

Mum wore the same coat and best dress (special occasions only) for at least seven years, but we kids never went hungry, and never felt the rationing restrictions, as we got our share, and most of my parents' share as well.

I cannot recall my father ever working less than seventy to eighty hours a week during my early years, and it wasn't until the boom years of the late fifties that, with the help of my Uncle Bob, Dad and Mum started to build a property business, and almost miraculously we were comfortably off.

As a child, I had one toy which I still can remamber. My father made a rifle out of copper tube and a hand carved stock, which was the envy of every boy for two miles around. We made our own games in those days, and that rifle took part in every kind of adventure, from opening up the Wild West, to handling the rebels on the North West Frontier.

I guess, reading this, you might say we were poor, but, in comparison to today's over-indulged, greedy, lazy, and self absorbed kids, I think I lived through the best that childhood has ever offered.

We were safe out on our own at the local park, and we were free to get filthy dirty, eat worms, roll in the dust and generally do all the things that made us tough, and self sufficient.

We had respect for our elders, respect for authority, and respect for each other, but most of all WE HAD FUN!

Don T.