Or thereabouts. My daddy, like all the other daddies roundabout, was away at the war. He was in the Royal Navy, an Able Seaman, and we were very proud of him, especially when he was chosen to take part in the King's broadcast to the nation on Christmas Day. We all sat around in the kitchen, while the dinner bubbled away in the back kitchen - I can still smell the carrots and turnips, and see the rivulets of condensation as they ran down the windows as we all sat waiting for Dad to come on the radio. His bit began "My name is Robert Edward Mackay Campbell Ingham. I have served on this ship .........." There is a script of this broadcast somewhere in this house - once upon a time there was a black record of the whole thing, and even a steel one. I broke the black one myself, bringing it home from Grandma's one day, and only wish I knew what become of the steel one. The BBC deny all knowledge of the broadcast - I would pay real money to get a copy of it, to hear Dad's voice again, for he died in 1953, aged only 41. Not killed in the war, but killed BY the war. Marged