Hello, I’m Harry Riley. I was born in 1940, just as the Second-World-War was getting under way. My dad was not around, having been sent abroad as a gunner in the Royal Artillery.

Arriving in Singapore harbour, their ship was torpedoed by the Japanese and he was declared missing, presumed dead. Later, very much later, my mother got a letter from the war ministry, they had heard via the red cross, that he had survived, having been pulled out of Singapore harbour, more dead than alive, with a bullet in his leg, after several hours immersion and he was working on the Changi railway construction. I had never met him and he was never in my thoughts as I grew up, being cared for by lots of aunts and female helpers whilst my mother worked on munitions in the local cigarette factory.

We lived in a big Midlands town and this factory had been taken over by the government. My mother was a very lively young woman and I understand she had a great time working and singing along, with the other girls. The factory played loud music all day long to keep the workers cheerful and productive.

As you’d expect, there were very few men around us kids, except the dads who were required to stay at home, doing essential jobs, such as Bevin Boys (coal miners) and men too old or sick to join the forces.

For us kids the war was fantastically exciting. We were pretty much left to our own devices. I didn’t have a care in the world. I would go to school breakfast club and I also belonged to the school tea club where we ate a substantial meal (in spite of rationing) and would afterwards sit cross-legged on the floor of the big assembly room and sing sea shanties.

My mother came from a large Irish Catholic family, with eleven children, of which she was the eldest. She had been educated in a convent and was destined to be a Nun. This was never going to be an option for her. She was much too outgoing. So she absconded and eventually married my father in a Church of England ceremony, (he had grown up in a small Derbyshire vilIage and was rather a quiet soul) her other brothers and sisters remained in the Catholic faith, going to Catholic schools.

So here I was, an untidy, little fat ginger haired lad, with a lopsided neck, who always viewed life at a slant (and still do!)