Seventy four years ago this month I was a refugee.
I was evacuated from the London hospital where I was born to escape the very first bombs of the London Blitz which Adolf Hitler launched when he learned of my birth on August 25th 1940.
Along with my trusty gasmask and thousands of my fellow Londoners, I was shipped off to a safe haven on the south coast of England. Soon adopted by a local farmer, my safe house turned out to be anything but safe. Close to the major shipping port of Southampton which was obliterated later in the war, and directly under the bombers' homeward route, we spent every night huddled in our air-raid shelter. It's all that I really remember until the surrounding country lanes and hedge rows began to fill up with tanks, trucks and amphibious vehicles preparing for the invasion of France.