We had very few possessions. I had come out of the Army with only a kitbag, my uniform and boots and my demob clothes, and about £300 which included savings and a gratuity from a grateful country. None of my prewar clothes fitted after being away for six years. Marjorie was a little more fortunate. She had only been in the WAAF for three years but she had no savings because she had never had a job.

While staying with Mum and Dad we had no furniture of our own because there was nowhere to put it, except a brass topped table which Marjorie had bought. Hilary has it now, but its legs have been replaced with shorter ones. Whilst I was back in Italy Marjorie had managed to buy a divan bed and had had a headboard made by a local carpenter. It had to be kept in store and we paid storage for it. I think we gave it to Malcolm when he set up home in Ipswich.

During the War no furniture had been made because all the factories had been turned over to War production, and that also applied to household goods such as sheets, blankets, crockery etc. Houses had been bombed and not rebuilt, three or four million men were coming back from the Forces - many of them had got married, and some had one or two children and had to live with parents. I've already mentioned the 'points' system for houses. I think it also applied to such things as bedding etc., but I'm not too sure about that.

Once production started for furniture there was a 'Utility' system which meant that it had to be made of specified wood and to a limited number of designs, although of a very good standard. It meant that other peoples' houses looked very much like your own when you walked in. Sheets, blankets and pillow cases were of very good quality, made of white cotton or twill. I have just given ours to the Church for Romanian Relief, so they lasted over forty years and still have many years of wear left.

So when our turn came and we went to the flat there was very little to take. We bought a 'Utility' drawleaf table, four chairs and two easy chairs. The kitchen was fully equipped with hot water heater, shelves, etc., but no cooker. These were scarce and only just coming back into production. The Gas and Electricity Companies had a semi-official priority system for returned servicemen so I had no difficulty (except for the cash) in getting the latest 'New World' model.

There was no wardrobe so I made one in a recess in the bedroom out of gas pipes covered with some old curtain material.

The floor was bare boards, stained and polished, and for a few weeks we only had two or three small slip rugs. Then we managed (via the unloved cafe owner, Frank Westerman, Dad's neighbour) to get hold of a new carpet - about 12 ft by 14 ft - I think. It was part of a consignment which had arrived in London Docks and had 'accidentally' fallen into the Thames so was unsaleable in the shops. This was a well-known Docker's racket to deliberately drop goods into the water and then buy them as 'damaged goods'. It was one of their many rackets and one of the causes of London Docks being eventually shut down a few years later.

It was a good carpet, red background with a large centre motif and patterned edge. It went with us to Cheshunt and then to Ipswich where we left it when we came to Dunstable. So we had a 'black market' carpet for over twenty years.

Things were in short supply in those times. If you saw a queue outside a shop you knew that they had had a consignment of something or other so you tagged on irrespective of what it might turn out to be. Marjorie got a mixing basin like that - stood in a queue in Maltham Cross High Street outside the Co-op for about two hours. I've still got it. Cutlery was scarce - we bought secondhand stuff, some of which I've still got. It was years before we got a full set.

As well as converting large houses into flats there was a programme for building houses and a 'points system' as I've said elsewhere. Some of these houses were prefabricated - known as 'Prefabs'. The builders would lay the foundations and put in the services, and the 'Prefab' would arrive on a lorry sometimes complete and sometimes in sections. They were mostly made of wood. They were supposed to be temporary and be replaced by brick on the same foundations after ten years. Some of them are still occupied!

There were also brick built houses, traditional two or three bedrooms and bathroom, and fully fitted kitchen. That was what we went to in Tudor Avenue, Cheshunt, in August 1949. "Our own front door at last" as Marjorie wrote. I didn't need to take the 'gas pipe wardrobe' because there were fitted recesses in the bedroom walls. James's house in Tonteg is almost the spitting image of that house except that his back door is in the side wall and he has an additional downstairs 'loo'.

We had collected more furniture and other belongings by that time and hired a 'removal company'. This was Charlie Goodwin's coal lorry, imperfectly swept so that our belongings arrived with a fair covering of coal dust, but we didn't care. Charlie worked in Grandfather's butcher shop most days of the week, and was what Dad used to call a 'scratcher' meaning someone who would do anything to earn a few shillings. He owned a plot of land by his house and had a large number of chickens, so he sold eggs and chickens of his own account. Bryan says that Charlie became very well off when his land became desirable building sites, and he sold out. I think he is still 'scratching' about, although he must be well over eighty.

Up to that time there had been a 'credit squeeze' with strict controls on hire purchase, but these eased off. So we splashed out and bought a three-piece suite. The settee was a four-seater so with its cushions on the floor we had two extra beds for visitors. It was very well made. We had it re-covered in Ipswich and again in Dunstable, and only got rid of it about 1982. Some newlyweds from a few roads away trundled it to their new home on a large trolley (no coal dust in sight!). It had got too heavy for Marjorie to move about so we replaced it with lightweight easy chairs with legs that can be swept under and moved more easily.

We acquired another double bed at Ipswich. Dolly Brown came down from Holywell a few months after we had settled in and had some sort of discussion with Marjorie about extra furniture. They settled on a double bed, so we went down to Carr Street, the main shopping street in the town, and straight off Dolly spotted a big store with furniture in the windows. "This looks all right," she said, so in we went to the Bed Department and picked out a double bed with walnut head and bottom boards. "Can you deliver today?" "Yes, late this afternoon, if that's convenient." "Will you take a cheque?" "Yes." So it was' all settled, and the Salesman started to make out a receipt, and said "Can you tell me your number?" "Number 8". "That's a very low number, you must be one of the original members, but if you don't mind me saying so, you don't look old enough, madam." They were at cross purposes, and rather puzzled. "What do you mean?" asked Dolly. "Well madam, this share number goes back to when the Co-op was founded, your parents must have passed it down to you." "Co-op! Is this a CO-OP?" says Dolly, horrified. She was a True Blue Tory, an Independent trader from way back. Anyway, the deal was settled and the bed arrived that afternoon, as promised.

Dolly had never set foot in a Co-op in her life. When we got outside she said "Well, I am surprised, such a nice place and everything of such good quality. And such helpful people!" I think she expected them to have horns! I still have the bed but it's in the spare room. Not that there is anything wrong with it.

When I slipped a disc for the third time, as soon as I recovered we went to a bed shop in Dunstable for a new one. I was walking with a stick and sat down on one in the shop, telling the man what I wanted. He was a short, fat man, very keen on displaying his wares. He would keep laying down on beds and having great difficulty in getting up. He told me the price of one that took my fancy and I went rather quiet. "We can knock some discount off for cash," he said after a few minutes, obviously thinking the price was a bit too high for me. "No, that isn't the problem. It's too cheap. What I want is the best quality one you have - my back is more important than my wallet." So we finished up with the best orthopaedic bed in the place, about £300 more than the one he had started with. I had made his day! Marjorie and I often had a laugh about that man.

When I came home after the War, happily married at last, there were several things I had set my mind on.

Firstly to have a suit made to measure by the famous London Tailors, Hector Powe. I used my clothing coupons to be measured in their Birmingham premises while on the Course, and took delivery when I returned to Cheshunt. All my suits have been made by them ever since, so OXFAM got some real bargains when I retired. Their visiting tailor used to come to the house to measure up and bring fittings, then final delivery. I also had shirts, pyjamas and Barker's shoes from them.

Secondly to play cricket for Cheshunt with Nichol Greene and other boyhood heroes. I did this.

Thirdly to have a small barrel of beer at home. This went wrong. Lovibond's delivered a 'pin' (4.1/2 gallon capacity) to Dad's bungalow and we put it in the conservatory. Just as well that it wasn't in the house! After the second day the bung leaked and there was beer all over the floor the next morning.

Fourthly to make our own wine. I had seen this done during my three years in Italy. Someone gave me some books on wine making. I had a very small garden at the rear of Tudor Avenue, and grew some potatoes and marrows, with the intention of making 'marrow rum.' The book said to cut off one end, scoop out some flesh and add brown sugar every day with it hanging up endwise. The sugar dissolves the flesh and eventually - rum! I did this most faithfully, hung it inside the top cupboard of the 'Easiwork' and looked forward to cheap drinks. NEVER AGAIN. After a few weeks the thing disintegrated during the night and we came downstairs to find the place smelling like a distillery with raw sticky rum in all the cupboards underneath including the pull-out ironing board.

Better success at Ipswich though. The garden at Tolworth House was full of all sorts of things to make wine with - elderberries, blackcurrants, redcurrants, potatoes, peas (the pods make a nice brand of Hock) apples, pears, plums, everything you could wish for. I made cider from apples and pears in a five gallon jar, and it wasn't at all bad. Just after they arrived from the States to take up duty on the Base, Jeff and Madeline Phelps came visiting to make themselves known. I asked them what they would tike to drink and found that they were Baptists and teetotal. "What about some cider, then?" "What's that?" "Apple Juice." That sounded harmless enough and I filled a large tumbler for Jeff which he downed in a couple of swallows. "Very nice" he said. After about fifteen minutes Jeff went red in the face, broke out in a sweat and tried to stand up. He couldn't! Jeff was 6 ft 1 in. and weighed about fifteen stones. I reckon that stuff must have been as strong as Somerset Scrumpy, although it had never affected me, probably because I had never drunk such a large amount as Jeff had, or as quickly.

Then there was the wheat wine. I got some wheat and barley from the Mailings I was doing Gas business with, boiled it up, spread yeast on toast to float on top, as per instructions, put it in the airing cupboard and waited. Wheat wine in about three weeks and very nice too. I went a bit too far and distilled some through two kettle spouts. It must have been over fifty proof. The house smelled like a distillery for weeks afterwards, and I was too scared to drink it.

There was a very large walk-in larder between the breakfast room and one of the lounges, and I kept all the wine in there. One day the corks shot out of some of the bottles with loud reports, some hitting the ceiling together with some of the wine. We had a red and white mottled ceiling and puddles a11 over the floor.

Marjorie had great success with the 'ginger beer plant'. There was a recipe for this in one of the books, using sugar, root ginger, spices and water, and it was self-perpetuating. You could take about an inch of it and start all over again. It supplied our five kids and most of the neighbourhood's with tasty drinks for many years.