Ron entered university in Birmingham after his war Service, and we were determined to be together, no matter what. The Room, for we were only able to rent one room at that time, was grim, to say the least, furnished with an old bed, a food cupboard, a gas fire, table, and several unbelievably uncomfortable chairs. The cooking facilities were next to impossible - one gas burner and one grill mounted on a spindly iron stand which could be hidden when not in use by drawing a tattered curtain across the alcove.

The gas meter devoured shillings, sixpences and coppers as fast as I could feed them into the slots. The only running water was in the communal bathroom on the first floor and, yes, we were on the ground floor so every drop had to be carried, the clean downstairs and the dirty up.

The bathroom was old and in such a disgusting condition that we bathed at the Public Baths a short bus ride away. Mrs Mac caught sight of us going off one morning armed with towels, and tried unsuccessfully to persuade us to pop upstairs instead. UGH!

We were blissfully happy in spite of everyting and two months after our arrival Ron had his first and last experience of morning sickness. No, I wasn't sick, it was he who brought back his morning cup of tea, not I, though that instance was the first sign of my first pregnancy.

Here I must mention that lack of discomfort is a strong encouragement towards having a large family, and I'm never, never in better health than when I'm in the 'Family Way'.

Our delight turned to furtive whisperings whenever we remembered Mrs Mac. Would we be able to keep our happy secret from her for four more months? I had my doubts. To this end I was aided and abetted by everyone we knew, especially by the milkman. With rationing in full swing it would have been foolhardy not to take advantage of the few extras allowed to expectant mothers. So he, that is, the milkman, left my ordinary milk ration on the front doorstep with everyone else's and my extra pint was surreptitiously handed in through the window with a sly wink and a '"Thanks a lot" each morning. What a good sort he was.

This worked famously until I began to develop a pot-bellied side view and no longer zippable zips, and to hide I resorted to 'Sloppy Joe' jumpers. During this time Mrs Mac had blown hot and cold - one day complaining about my stair-cleaning not being up to scratch and another day pressing me to accept pans of hot, greasy soup. Sometimes I would help her out with gardening and be given a share of the windfall apples, which were more than welcome. A many-sided woman was Mrs Mac.

Gladly we gave in the agreed fortnight's notice a few days before Ron started his exams. From that moment she became a veritable Dragon - nothing I did met with her approval - she lurked constantly in the hallway ready to pounce directly I opened the door. When the questions and complaints became more than I could stand I escaped her tongue by climbing out of the window and coming in the same way. Even so I was obliged to use the staircase at least twice a day, and each time, there she was.

The last straw came when she stood 'arms akimbo' and said "It's just as well you're going, isn't it, Mrs S?" She had finally made up her mind about my 'condition'. Honestly, I couldn't stay in that house another minute, I picked up my coat and handbag, ran down the road and jumped onto the first bus into town.

For two hours I waited in the cold for Ron's class to finish and as soon as he came out through the gates I burst into tears. Very gently he led me to a quiet Tea Shoppe, and there I poured out the whole story of Mrs Mac's misery-making campaign. His "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" was little comfort, but he solved the problem by booking an hotel room for the remaining few days.

We had to return to Mrs Mac to pack our suitcases, and believe it or not, she actually wept when we left. "So sorry you are going, such a nice couple, pleasure to have you, etc., etc." Crocodile Tears!

It hadn't been easy, finding an hotel room, but our third, fourth or fifth rate was still a palace compared to 'THE FLAT'.

At last the exam results came through to make me the happiest, proudest woman on earth. Ron was well and truly 'Top of the Form' and so with this happy news we boarded a train and returned to the welcoming arms of my husband's family in Cheshunt.