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I was aged about three when evacuated from London to Armthorpe, then a mining village in open countryside outside Doncaster. My mother and I stayed in the council house of a wonderful couple, Mr and Mrs Gee. He was a miner, she a housewife who was always cooking delicious things. I remember most her individual Yorkshire puddings which she made specially for me and spread with golden syrup on both sides. They and their lovely grown-up sons had broad Yorkshire accents. To this day I feel pleasure in hearing a Yorkshire voice. My father wasn't there, of course, but occasionally letters would arrive with his cartoon drawing for me.

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