Just before the war, a very extraordinary thing happened. We moved to the outskirts of Cambridge because my father became a relief station master, which meant he went to other stations when the regular man was on holiday or was sick, and he covered the whole of East Anglia from King’s Lynn down to Broxbourne, which is near Liverpool Street, near London. I used to travel with him sometimes in school holidays. I went to a whole variety of stations and sat in the signal box for ages. I loved trains. I still love trains. I used to ride on the lunchtime goods train as it shunted the trucks onto the single line at Barnham, where we lived. I missed out one important fact. When I was four, maybe… four, I think, I was taken to see one of those ancient things, which still affect English theatre life and English audiences fully, the pantomime. I was taken to the pantomime at the Old Picture House in Bury, of Robinson Crusoe. All I remember of it, was… is beating drums, grass skirts, black bodies and an extraordinary erotic charge. At four I remember being actually quite sexually excited. I didn't know that's what it was. That was my first experience of theatre and it's a pretty good one looking back on it. From then on I was… and this is the cliché which so many of my profession utter – I… I built model theatres, I wrote plays for my model actors, I cut out actors and drew them and I'd seen almost no theatre but… I mean, I don't know why I did that. I was humoured in it. My father hoped, I suppose, that I would illustrate Gilbert and Sullivan one day but I didn't. And I was… I was just very interested in shows and how… how they were put together and why they were put together, and the… and the kind of excitement between audience and performer. So, I was lucky, aged eight, to be lumped near Cambridge because the next year the war broke out and Cambridge in… in the war, was the most extraordinary festival of arts, largely because so much was evacuated from London.