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I've just a read an autobiographical letter that my Uncle wrote to his two sons (my cousins). The letter runs to many pages, and details his life between the ages of 7 and 13, between the outbreak of World War II and VJ (Victory Over Japan) Day, when the war was officially ended. It's a fantastically entertaining document, because my uncle is a great raconteur, and it's full of interesting family history, and anecdotes, and biographical details about his young life (and by extension that of my father too), during an unimaginable time for anyone who didn't live through that period. Many things that I read will stay with me. My uncle chewing a softly heated lump of tarmac, because it was flavoursome (it had a smoky flavour, he says), and he was so starved of sweets/toffees to chew because of rationing. But, he also says that you didn't dare let it harden in your mouth as you'd never remove it from your molars. My dad got blown off his bike in a V2 rocket blast. He