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During the height of the blitz my brother and I were put on a train to an unkown destination as 'evacuees'. I was seven at the time, my brother only five and when we arrived we were taken to the village hall where the local population were required, by law, to choose evacuees to stay with them. We weren't the most angelic children at the best of times and the long journey had not exactly improved our appearance, with the result that no-one chose us. The woman supervisor, seeing everyone had gone, wondered what to do with us when suddenly a large Rolls Royce pulled up outside and a rich looking couple came in. Seeing there were only us left, they had no alternative but to take us back to what I still remember as a 'castle' and it transpired they were Mr. and Mrs. Fry, owners of the famous chocolate company. Needless to say, our 'war' was spent in absolute luxury and, having no children of their own, they really took to us, Mr. Fry giving me piano lessons which eventually resulted in me becoming a semi-pro pianist, playing with the best musicians in the country. Music resulted in me meeting my wife and I sometimes ask my daughter 'would she have ever been born if someone else had chosen us in that village hall'?

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