Christmas 1944 in bombed-out Birmingham. A German PoW invited round for lunch, and your best present is a bar of Bournville chocolate. But some things never change: Patsy Cashman, 10 years old at the time, recalls how she would do anything to avoid eating her sprouts …
Just like children today, we were breathless with excitement about Christmas. We were even allowed to stay up on Christmas Eve to go to midnight mass. The church was two miles away and it was a big adventure to walk out at night during the blackout. But it was also a bit scary. My younger brother, Gerard, was only eight, but decided he was going to look after me. Every time he heard a noise he'd jump up and cry: 'Who goes there, in the name of the King!'