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My wife and I have been married for 40 years now and we still love each other dearly.
We've been through many challenges like any other couple - one of the worst, though, the one time I thought we might not make it, was when we had to live in Six Bells Cottage.
I was posted to RAF Wattisham in remotest Suffolk in June 1967. The RAF provided me and my family with Six Bells Cottage in October.
It was cold! And as as the nights grew longer the damp and cold grew stronger in the thatched cottage and even the mice grew braver.
I was out at work all day in the warmth, but Angela for all her trying to put a brave face on, found the lack of facilities and, more to the point, friends hard going.
She was alone all day with 2 -year old Adele Jane and another baby on the way.
At night, Angela and I pushed the sofa against the single bed and snuggled up to try and keep the cold at bay. We dressed and undressed speedily with the dubious aid of a single bar electric fire.
On Christmas eve there was a loud knock at the door. I went to open it with the nine-inch key provided. "Happy Christmas! We are collecting for the unfortunate" - a beaming man shook a collection box into which I put a few small coins, being unfortunate myself!
For Angela, the final straw came when we couldn't get transport from our remote cottage to the hospital for her check-ups.
In January, she left me. She took Adele with her to her mother's in 'Castle. I didn't know if she'd ever come back and I wouldn't have blamed her.
When the landlady gave notice to quit by March 30, I told Angela and she trusted me that the situation would be better this time. 'Hooray' we were moving to civilisation!
