One Special Day

Born in Devon before the outbreak of the Second World War, l have very vivid memories of the horror that war brought to the average man and woman in the village that l lived in. When l was 7 years old my parents moved up into the Peak District on the outskirts of Sheffield. This town in particular was the subject of nightly bombing raids by the Luftwaffe as it was the main supplier of majority of England's steel production. The austerity of such a life, the rationing for food, the disturbed nights when l woken up to spend many an hour in the local Air Raid Shelters listening to the sound of the bombs screaming down, and the noise of the buildings being hit by them all made an impression on my young memory. Educated at the local Grammar School, l went on to University to achieve a Ph.D. in Psychology and a Masters in Sociology and Psychiatry. My Father, who was a self-employed Dentist, had always dreamed that l would follow him into the business when l graduated. He was very upset therefore when l told him that l had decided to move on from University and join the Royal Air Force and make a career as a Fighter Pilot. This l did and soon reached the ranks of a Squadron Leader when a tragic accident cut short my flying career and the necessity to wear glasses meant that l couldn’t even stay in the Air Force as ground staff. With the compensation l received as a result of this accident, l was able to set myself up as a Psychologist taking in both Health Service referrals and private patients. Becoming, as did, a ‘workaholic’ soon increased my bank balance quite considerably but l paid the price for this in two failed marriages. Now, in retirement, l spend my days in a small cottage situated on the South Downs of Great Britain. Putting pen to paper so to speak is a new experience for me, but one l am looking forwards to very much and l hope that you like what l submit.