1939 - 1944 56 Granville Road, Sevenoaks, Kent.

It was said by 'somebody' that we moved here when I was 4 mths old. The reason for the move seems to have been that my grandparents, the Webbers, Ernest and Florence were fleeing the shame etc. of bankruptcy. Back then bankruptcy, like illigitimacy and divorce were a matter of far, far greater shame than they are now. That's more of "my story" that I'll never get the answers to.

Anyway, move here we did, southwards for most of the length of England. The war had just started or was just about to start. Under the circumstances it was an odd place to move to, given that Hitler's anticipated invading armies would have been here very quickly if "Operation Sealion" had suceeded.

He didn't manage his invasion but much of the Battle of Britain was fought in the skies over Kent and was later part of "doodle-bug alley" when his V1 Flying Bombs began in 1944. As a toddler none of this meant much to me. Memories of "then" are of course dim and fragmented for me. But seemingly I spent the greater part of World War 2 very much "in it."

Sevenoaks was presumably chosen because my grandfather had got a job there. No idea what he did then. My dad had disappeared about then never to be seen again as far as I know. My mother joined the W.A.A.F. (Women's Auxliary Air Force). She went wherever the RAF sent her. She appeared from time to time, to see how I was doing I suppose. All of these people will get their story told in more detail in due course (time pernmitting).

The house was huge or seemed so in the eyes of a small child. The outside was finished in pebble-dash. (Look it up somewhere!) Three stories (floors) I believe. It was near the railway station. At the top of the road was the church where I was christened and my name went from Eric to DErick to Derek ... there's a clever little tale.

During the war the government "billetted" military personel in houses deemed big enough to house them. 'We' were no exception and a steady stream of soldiers and airmen shared the house with me.

A V1 'doodle-bug" crashed at the top of the road and most of our windows were blown out by the blast. The war was very real, but now seems so remote and it's sliding steadily into history.

I think my grandfather must have got a new job because in 1944 we were to move again.