Christmas.
A Memory of Bratton.
Just before Christmas in 1941/1942 which would make me 6 to 7 years old, still believing in Father Christmas I was invited to a Christmas party in a cottage in Bratton Lane. There was lots of snow that day and when I got inside there were lots of children and we were having a great time. At one point one of the adults asked us to be quiet and listen... suddenly there was a loud bump on the roof and someone said, 'it's Father Christmas', and low and behold he walked through the door. That moment has never left me and how great it was for those people to do that for us.
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