The following is an account by Ron Marsh of his early memories as a child, which he has so very kindly lent to me. He was born in St Marys Cray, Orpington, Kent , and is now retired and living in Bognor Regis, West Sussex.

When I reached the age of about 5 and a half in the year of 1924, my brother who is 2 years younger than me contracted Scarlet Fever. At that time, of course, this was quite a dreaded disease, so it was decreed that off to my ailing grandfather and step-grandmother I should be despatched, with all haste.

What I can remember about my move to 12 South Albert Road, Reigate, is a bit vague. I don't know whether I cried, but as I had never been away from home before I imagined I must have done.

I was quite taken, however, with the magic of the garden, having 2 apple trees, one plum tree and a very old and dark shed filled with wondrous things for a young lad to play with. Spring loaded rat traps, saws and choppers, and many pieces of horse harness amongst other things, too numerous to mention.

There was Polly the parrot in a cage, which was hung outside by the front door on sunny days. He spent most of his time whistling and occasionally saying 'Pretty Polly quite well', the limit of his conversation.

What really impressed me was at the bottom of the very large garden - the pigsties. I was completely captured by them, three in all, containing two or three pigs.

The house was, I believe, 2 up and 2 down with a living/dining room, lit by gas, facing the Downs to the north. It always seemed to me to be a dark, dreary place heated by a coal or coke metal stove with attached oven.

The scullery was a stone walled and floored room with a wood-burning copper in the corner for heating water for washing or having a bath. The zinc tub for such a purpose hung on a nail outside the back door.

A wooden staircase led to the sparsely furnished bedrooms, which were lit by oil lamps or, in my case, a candle.

My grandfather to me was a very old man who was confined to his bed quite often, a man with a sense of humour, and kindly in a way. My step-grandmother was also very old and crippled, who got about with the aid of a formidable wooden walking stick which she was not slow to use on me to enforce her will. Although I was very frightened of her, I was also nimble and quite good at keeping out of the way of that flailing missile.

I don't remember much about my early school days, although I do recall that I attended St. Mark's Infant School in Holmesdale Road, right opposite St. Mark's Girls School.

The only incident of any consequence that I can remember at that school was the time I was told to stand behind the blackboard - a punishment for talking in class. Now this blackboard was a massive thing and went almost down to the floor so of course, us little ones could reach it. Being behind it, however, I could not be seen and must have been forgotten as everybody went home and I was left there. What did I do? I got a chair, climbed out of the window and ran all the way home.

Whilst the infants left me with little memories my move, at 7, to the big boys school made its mark, which I have never forgotten.

It was to the National, as it was known; standing on the corner of Hardwick Road and London Road and, like St. Mark's was a Church School.

It was about this time when I was given a queer nickname, by whom I never knew, but it certainly stuck. Dare I tell what it was, why not? I was called 'Chuddy', although I have no idea why.

I suppose one's first day to a new school is usually a fairly daunting experience, but I really do not think it was to me. I was really looking forward to it. I am by nature I believe, quick to make friends, in fact usually see good in everybody and quickly make some good friends.

We copied the names of boys from the magazine 'Greyfriars' for nicknames, such as 'Cherry' and 'Nugent' and of course, there is always a 'Billy Bunter' in every school.

The classrooms were quite spacious with over 30 pupils per class, separated by floor to ceiling partitions, which could be folded back if so required.

The teachers that I remember were Miss Warren who took the younger of us. Miss Bloomfield I remember had a nasty habit of hitting you across the back of your hand with the edge of a ruler - very painful! Mr Shepherd was a rather kindly, but strict master and Mr Parker is the one I remember as being a fitness fanatic and also a one-time extremely good rugby player. I must not forget Mr Dungate the caretaker, who lived in a house adjoining the school whom we must have plagued the life out of.

They were indeed happy days for me, but on reflection I wish it had been a mixed school. I think one misses so much not being brought up in the company of the female sex. I know that as I got older I felt uneasy in the company of girls, I did not really know what to say to them.

We had two playgrounds, the larger one having a distinct slope, which was ideal in the winter, making some lovely slides when the snow was around. We were also lucky in having our own school allotments, although they never really appealed to me.

We had several beehives with which I achieved an affinity and which lasted all my school years, the highlight being when I won second prize for an essay on bee keeping, at the all England Bee Keeping Show at the Crystal Palace (which unfortunately burnt down). For this I received a certificate which I still have.

Of course we played all the usual games, marbles, conkers, etc. There was one I remember as being great fun, but also very dangerous. The idea was to get an open ended key, a nail, piece of string and some matches. You would break the match heads into the open end of the key until half full, and push the nail into the open end. Then tie one end of string to the top of the key, the other end to the head of the nail, strike the head of the nail a hefty bang against a brick wall, with the result being a fair explosion and the key splitting down the side, good fun!

We had our organised games, e.g. football and cricket, for which we had to walk to playing fields in Pilgrims Way. I enjoyed all sports, but never made top grades in any of them, being just an average competitor.

As for the academics, I don't really remember much, but I guess they must have been OK as I have a couple of prizes and several certificates for regular attendance. In fact I hardly had any time away during my seven years there.

I do remember woodwork, which took place in the hall in Slipshoe Street under a Mr Srudwick. I was not one of is favourite pupils after carrying out his instructions to burn a pipe rack, which I thought was one of my best attempts at carpentry.

Some activities took place in the Castle grounds, which is adjacent to the school, such as May Day and Empire day, when we had a church service and then, best of all, we had the rest of the day off.

Ron continued living with his grandparents until the day he was whisked off back to his mother after the death of his step-grandmother in 1931.

A day at the hop field, autumn 1917. Ron Marsh's mother is seated right with his baby sister on lap.