I was born in 1943. Dad was a miner and loved the fresh air so he had an allotment and grew fruits and vegetables to supplement our rations. Mum’s sister was in the Land Army and one day she came to visit, walking down the street with a cockerel tucked under her arm - dead of course - in full feather, together with a puppy from the farm. That dog called Ruff became my best friend.

Mum made lots of stews on our open fire and baked her own bread in the brick oven at the side of the fire. I remember mum’s sister had a big hat and long socks up to her knees and I thought she looked funny, 'cos Mum always wore a headscarf or a turban when she worked. She sat on the window sills upstairs to clean the windows outside and never fell off. Her legs were inside with the window pulled down onto them.