Ian C Kenson

The boy in the kennel Ian C Kenson

POSTSCRIPTTERMINATION BY CHOICEAlmost twenty five years to the day "escaping" from being deposited to inner England as an evacuee, close and within the area's that received more bomber raids than my original home town of Hove, for which the foregoing writings have covered, did the boy, now a man, with his family journey to the town and place of my "internment", suitably booted and suited as a fully grown thirty three year old husband and father, knocked on the door of the house that held far and distant memories, ( non good ). Within two minutes the door was opened, introducing myself with the words, "hello Mrs Arnold, my name, giving her the name she had known me as, shock and horror etched in her face, visible shaking she opened her mouth to speak, no sound past her lips, as though looking straight through the person before her, she immediately shut the door by slamming in my face, her the parting words, "I don't know you, I have never seen you before, go away, I am going out, you were never ever here", with the door now fully closed, the boy/man stood there, wondering what he should now do, staring at the closed door, he smile slightly to his self, before turning away and returning to car, explained to his family what had happened, then decided to drive back home, obviously the boy/man has never to this day, had any contact with her again, or has she ever tried to make contact with him.