A memoir of Branscombe 1934-1953. Having reached 90, with the 80th anniversary of VE Day coming up next May, I’ve been writing about my early life in the beautiful village of Branscombe on the coast of East Devon - a village often regarded as an example of the rural idyll.

I’ve reflected on the effects of wartime isolation and the discovery of a fascinating natural world of valleys, hillsides, woods, streams, birds, insects, adders, frogspawn, and rock pools for prawning. Then, the lives of people in the largely self-contained community around us at that time: the cobbler, blacksmith, barber, baker, postmistress, my piano teacher and evacuees.

My father, who was the Head Teacher of the village school, encouraged all these interests in place, people and landscape and I became more curious about the world. This led me to geography at Cambridge and a career in teaching.