An Early End to a Summer Holiday

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My first memory of the war is from the summer of 1939. I had turned 7 that June and was on holiday with my family in Margate, where we used to rent a house every summer for 6 weeks. I woke up on the last Thursday of our holiday thinking that we still had 3 days left, only to be told by my mother and father that we were packing and going home that day because of the war. As a Jewish family, my parents made the decision that the family would stay together no matter what, but I remember feeling so disappointed that I was losing 3 days of our holiday.

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