by Roland Gardner | Oct 29, 2008 | Stories
I am waiting in the hall for my mother to get her hat and coat on. The Daily Mirror is on the hallstand. In those days it was compulsory to take the Mirror – I pick it up. The date is 29th March, 1943. I smile to myself. It’s my birthday – sort of. I’m 14 months old...
by Roland Gardner | Oct 21, 2008 | Stories
When I was three, my greatest friend was Pop Figgit. He and his wife Margaret were two of the nicest people I ever met – and sixty years later I have found no reason to change my opinion. Early in 1941, their house in a south London suburb was bombed. They were...
by Roland Gardner | Oct 9, 2008 | Stories
In 1954 I was thirteen years old and was a pupil at Colditz. Well, Skinners’ Grammar School for Boys, as it was more commonly known. Every Thursday afternoon, everyone in the third, fourth and fifth forms was consigned to the loving care of Sergeant-Major Jock...
by Roland Gardner | Aug 28, 2008 | Stories
At eight years old, one of my jobs during the school holidays was to make a daily trip to the corner shop for my mum. I was a bit of a dreamer, was seldom in any hurry, and would chat to anyone I met. On this particular day, there was a man waiting at the bus stop,...
by Roland Gardner | Jul 30, 2008 | Stories
If you drive north on the Golden State Freeway out of Los Angeles, the first settlement of any size that you reach is Saugus. The freeway roughly follows the line of the San Andreas Fault. As you drive, you are aware that the highway crosses and re-crosses the Fault....
