I have a couple more stories I'd like to share. "Stinky" Knibbs During his days as a prisoner of war my father, Harold George Knibbs picked up the very unpleasant nick-name of "Stinky". My mother told me about the nick-name but not the story behind it. I assumed it was perhaps related to personal hygiene or bodily functions so never raised the subject with him. However, one day he was reminiscing about his time as a prisoner of war and told me the story. During one of his many escape attempts, he and several of his friends had escaped from the prison camp. They'd managed to get many miles away from the camp and out into the German countryside, hiding up by day and travelling by night. One particularly dark night, they were walking along a small country lane when they heard several vehicles approaching. Assuming that it was a German patrol they realised that they would have to find cover. Dad saw a large hay stack across the hedge in one of the fields, so he scrambled through the hedge, ran for the hay stack and dived in. Imagine his surprise when he found it wasn't a hay stack but a manure heap on a pig farm! That was one time, he told me, that he was more than pleased when he was recaptured. The manure washed off but sadly, the nick-name stuck! "Vanity" Knibbs: A couple of years ago, I came across an old photograph of my grandfather George Levi Knibbs and decided that I would like to have some copies made from it. At that time, I had no scanner, so instead, took it to the local photographer to be reproduced. It was a busy Saturday morning and whilst standing in the queue, looking at my grandfather's photograph now out of the frame, I suddenly noticed that with the light shining across it, I could see lots of indentations and scratches on the surface. Closer inspection revealed that these were pencil marks. At first glance of the photograph (taken in his 30's) he appeared to have a pretty good head of hair - the pencil marks were in fact his attempt to cover his bald spot! It certainly fooled me at first. When I reached the front of the queue, I pointed this out to the photographer and he told me not to worry. He would restore the photograph to remove the blotches and blemishes and whilst doing it, would sort his hair out. And that is what he did. I am now the proud owner of a very old photograph of my grandfather with a full head of fair curls. I hope he would approve. The marvels of technology. I mentioned this to my aunt (George's daughter) the next time I visited her. She had a good chuckle but wasn't surprised by it. She told me he was always a very vain man and told me another story about his vanity. During the war he worked as a railway porter at Basingstoke railway station and fell off the platform during an air raid. He blacked both his eyes. Apparently, he wouldn't set foot outside of the house for several weeks until all the bruising had completely disappeared. Don