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I am now a retired engineer who has always been fascinated by anything mechanical. I am quite happy to pull anything apart and then re-build it. Which brings me to the short story concerning myself as a five year old child in approximately 1949 in Manor Avenue in Hassocks, West Sussex. One day I went out to play in the long grass opposite my bungalow. As I was playing in the grass I picked up a black object and wondered what it was. Fortunately I did nothing with it except to take it to my father, who immediately almost had a heart attack. He said, “Give it to me!”, which I did. He then placed this object, which I now know to be a grenade, on top of the chicken house where I couldn’t reach it. He walked to the local police station to tell them what I had found. A policeman on a pushbike came to our bungalow and put the grenade in his pocket and cycled back to the station. How lucky I was that I wasn’t as inquisitive then as I am now!

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