Hopefully recalling these deep memories will move this depression from me and I will again enjoy my now easy existence.

I recall how many privilege’s both Bernard and dear Elizabeth got. How so many times they were given concessions. I was always told it was because Bernard was the eldest or it was because Elizabeth was a girl. I am so thick I accepted this and believed it was because I was the middle child, and money was tight.

I had always been beaten, or ignored yet as kids do I survived and lived in wonder of the world around me. I longed to see the many things I had read about, like the pyramids and the Golden gate bridge. The engineering attracted me the most and thanks to the gift my father gave me I knew how most things worked by instinct alone.

The poor children in the German camps survived in much much worse conditions than mine. The main difference I always felt which lingers still even today is the not having friends to come along with me and suffer with me.

I was alone, always alone.

It was dear Liz who I had helped raise that eventually became my first close friend.

My half-sister had taken to following me around as I was the only one near her most of the time and I did love having a comrade along with me.

I could live as any other child around the home when Stan was at work and becoming a different child seemed to have a liking to try so many things. Along with this trying came the doing and dear Liz was a great helper and runner. She remembered this next adventure all her life and would tell the story over and over again.

Step father Stanley had just bought a new screwdriver and it was the latest thing. The ratchet allowed easy turning either way while the handle of the screwdriver held many shiny new ends to be switched at a moment’s notice, speeding up all jobs and allowing extra time for tea.

Just before Stan left for a few days, going to Scotland to value a printing works for insurance, he held up the screwdriver in front of us children and said in a deep stern voice “This screwdriver must not be touched by anyone. It is a very useful and expensive piece of equipment and is not in any way a toy. I shall be extremely cross if I find out someone has touched it while I am away.” The monologue carried on a little more and was accentuated by severe looks and tightly gripped eyebrows, with his large threatening hands holding the tool in front of my face.

Everything was fine and when mother was out or busy I did try out the screwdriver, by pulling apart the telephone, and rebuilding it. In the extra ends, housed in the handle was a new just out Phillips end which eliminated the chance of the screwdriver slipping and scratching the object it was being used on.

Just at that moment Liz arrived saying “I am bored what have we to do?” Now Liz’s bedroom overlooked the front of the house and in an instant, because I was holding the untouchable screwdriver in my hand at the time, I had a great idea. We would tie some cotton to the flashy screwdriver, Liz would place it outside the front gate on the pavement while I was in her bedroom upstairs with the sash window open a little and holding the other end of the cotton.

As someone came and tried to pick it up I would pull the cotton and it would lift the screwdriver, over the gate hopefully out of reach, leaving the passerby astounded.

Liz dutifully ran downstairs and placed the screwdriver on the pavement just outside the gate. The first man came and spotting the screwdriver, brand new and shiny, he bent to pick it up, I pulled the cotton and it lifted, in an instant over the gate. Surprised the man stood up again and looked around in a dazed manner, to walk on after a short while. Our game had worked fine and we were in the bedroom laughing till we cried. As soon as we recovered Liz ran down the stairs and reset the trap. Most people were surprised some laughed out loud and only one was cross. We were truly entertained and loving our new game, becoming impatient if nobody passed for a few seconds or minutes. At last we heard some more footsteps and they turned the corner,---It was Stanley returning from his trip!! In an instant I yanked on the cotton to break it and we both went down stairs to greet him after he had entered the house. He arrived into the lounge holding his screwdriver, and looking extremely puzzled he said “I found this outside the gate, I wonder how it got there?” Mother at that very moment came rushing in, not knowing what we had been up to, saving the day, and said "This is nice you are early I was not expecting you,” as the conversation advanced they both moved to the kitchen. I grabbed the screwdriver Stanley had placed on the table, tore off the remaining cotton, and put it back exactly as he had left it before going away.

Thankfully the screwdriver was never mentioned again and I escaped a beating, and had bonded a little closer with my dear half-sister Liz.

When we were older in our teens people would say “Wow you two look alike you are like twins, I can tell you two are brother and sister,” both Liz and I would pretend to be sick and protest saying that we hoped it was not true. Yet in privet we both confessed just how much we loved being alike and inside I was always so proud to be

“Like Liz.”