So, if you’re not family, you may as well look away, as this is going to get pretty boring.
If I can get this done before I get senile and forget it all, it may well be a long story.
In the summer of 1950, John and Joan Granger were enjoying a holiday at the seaside. It was Par sands, in Cornwall. The war was 5 years in the past, and life was looking up.
Their little boy, Richard, was 3 and loved playing in the sand and paddling in the sea with his mum and dad.
Dad was obviously thinking – well, what was he thinking, I wonder?
Anyway, as luck would have it, I was born about 9 months later…
In the summer of 1951, at our bungalow in West Wickham, I seemed to be settling in.
As soon as I was able to get out and about, I had a good think about what I was going to do with my life. I was a pretty grounded kind of kid.
What career should I take up?
I got Mum to explain the pilot thing to me
but the proximity of the pool was a bit distracting
Maybe a deep sea diver?
or underwater pilot?
Then she introduced me to ice cream, and I forgot everything else!
Around that time I was disappointed to find that I could not walk on water
But then realised the trick is to choose very shallow water.
I had quite a nice day at the seaside
and my mum seemed glad to be there with me.