While we were at West Buckland, of course, we were tortured by news of the war and we were doing nothing, just kicking our heels and attending lessons. And, I have to say, that many… many of the masters teaching us had been combed from all over the place. Why? Because in wartime, men had been conscripted so that the masters who taught us were a very varied… varied lot. Mr McLintock was retired, but nevertheless, he taught the OTC, and he was a good man.

Then there was Mr Dale, Daly Boy… Daly Boy. Daly Boy taught us geography, and I think we made fun of him.

And, there was Harold Boyer... now Harold, I can't speak highly enough of Harold. You see, why was Harold there? Because he was of German extract and he was married to a charming lady, and they had, I suppose, they had fled from any centre of cultivation [sic], and they lived in a small cottage. I visited them there – a small cottage by steep cliffs on either side and this little river running by. So that every morning, Harold would walk two miles up to school to teach us. And he came from this place where the cottage was, which on the map is identified as Charles Bottom – always known at school as Charlie's Arse, of course. Charlie's Arse was where Harold Boyer lived.  And Boyer was a marvellous teacher, and he would walk up and down and say, 'Facts! You must have facts'. We used to imitate him doing that.

But… he discovered that I was writing stories, and instead of beating me for it, he tried to induce me to write better stories. And he and I did establish a kind of rapport – the sort of rapport that, I don't know, I think is rather rare, but then, it was wartime.