Walking along the Thames riverbank, my dog Molly jumped up at a passing elderly gentleman and muddied his smart trousers.  I apologised profusely, he smiled and said, ‘it’s ok.. I love all living beings,’ and patted her on the head.

I continued my walk, and on the way back, I found him looking out across the river.  He  told me how much it had all changed in the 40 years since he had been back there.  His walk that morning had been a spontaneous one.. a sudden urge to revisit the area. 

There were no trees lining the banks back then as the river was in constant use for deliveries.  He told me about the day he was walking home with his brother.. they felt the earth beneath them shake and saw a V2 bomb hit right by Chiswick bridge, no air raid warnings that day.. no one new they were coming.

He told me what life was like in the area during the war, that his father was so worried he would go out on patrol with the neighbour on the look out for air raids.  He told me White Hart Lane was bombed, right outside what was a fishmonger and is now Anni’s restaurant.  He told me he  had just missed being called up, but had to to his national service just after the War, where he ‘learnt to kill his fellow man.’ The look in his eye and the shake of his head said it all.

After sharing his trip down memory lane for a little while, I asked where he had lived.. he said the name of the road.. it was my road.  I asked what number flat.. it was my flat.  The place that has been my life raft for the past 10 years, had been his family’s safe harbour throughout the war and for many years after that.  He didn’t want to upset me.. but his father had sadly passed away in my front room.

We both cried together.  I told him, of all the rooms in the house.. that one has always felt the most peaceful and it’s true.  In the afternoons, it is bathed in the most beautiful golden light.. especially this time of year.  This is a place where I have felt incredibly safe and happy.  

I told him I’ll speak to his father sometimes, and I will.  His name was Ferdinand.  

We walked and talked. His family had grown vegetables in the garden for all the neighbours during rations.  They had an anderson bomb shelter.  Their closest neighbour lived in the flat which now belongs to my oldest and dearest friend here.  She regularly invites me down for dinner and wine.

He treated me to a bowl of soup. And then we played the lottery together.

He told me he felt like we had already known each other for years.. I felt the same.  

Life is crazy at the moment.. it is crazy and painful.. but above all, it is beautiful.  

Thank you Ferdinand. Your son is a kind man and he loves you very much.