Another day, we were really low on food, there was a sign ‘Post Office’. We went in the house, the front room was a big room, a log fire burning, two armchairs by the fire, two huge beautiful cats asleep in them. We asked if there was anywhere to buy food. They said, “A van comes round each week…” Each week! The local shop! “… and a bus comes once a fortnight…”
That same time there was a very strong gusty wind blowing in London, and we were all walking along a street, and my father was typically smoking a cigarette, and a piece of hot ash blew off the tip of his cigarette and went into his eye. Now you remember that my father wore glasses, and so it went under the glasses and into his eye. It burned straight into his eye. He tried to ignore it, but it must have been agony, and the next day, I remember, he called on an optician. And this optician, he cut the top film of the eye, and removed this piece of ash that was embedded in my father’s eye.
Does she mention about a holiday in Wales? Reg may remember. Reg was the only one who went with them. They stayed at a farm.