My mother (Evelyn Hignett 1891 - 1974) and father (Thomas Broster1891 - 1981), known respectively to their eight grandchildren as ‘Mimpi’ and ‘Grampi’, first met when they were both seven years old at a Christmas Party at the Jones family pub (The Aldersey Arms) at Tattenhall, Cheshire. My father lived with his family at Newton Farm, Tattenhall a few miles south of Chester, the eldest of five children (the farm house was much later to be completely destroyed by German bombing, destined for Liverpool, on 28th November 1940, but fortunately with no loss of life as the family were at the cinema in Chester at the time!). My mother, the only child of the marriage, lived with her parents in Bebington, on the Wirral peninsular, in a house called ’Swallowcroft’. At the party, my father told my mother that he would marry her when they were grown up! He was right, as they obviously stayed in touch and married on 12th February 1919. My mother was a talented pianist, studying at the Manchester School of Music, and then taking her LRAM (The Licentiate of the Royal Academy of Music) in London. Among other
things, she sometimes played the piano at the Duke of Westminster’s Cheshire family home (Eaton Hall), and also at the home (Thornton Manor) of Lord Leverhulme, on the Wirral. Lord Leverhulme was William Lever (originally from Bolton) who, together with his brother James, founded Lever Bros (initially a soap-making company - Sunlight Soap, Lux, Lifebuoy and Vim, etc - one of the first to manufacture soap from vegetable oils (including palm oil) near Bromborough Pool, Merseyside in 1885. The factory and model workers’ village built by the Levers were together named ‘Port  ’. In 1929, Lever Bros merged with the Dutch company, Margarine Unie, to become Unilever. My father didn’t talk very much about the First World War, but some of his photos
taken in a Turkish prisoner-of-war camp show grim scenes (he had a box camera and film with him, even when he was in the camp!). In Palestine1917 he was told he could go home and train to be an officer, but unfortunately General Allenby ordered
all troops to prepare for an attack. My father (a sergeant in the Middlesex Yeomanry) was taken prisoner at the defence of Point 720 on el Buggar Ridge, Palestine on 27th October that year, one of only three survivors of the final attack against the position by Ottoman cavalry and artillery. A Turk shot my father in the chest, but the bullet hit a silver cigarette case in his breast pocket and the ricochet went through his finger into his abdomen. He survived, but his Commanding Officer, Major Alexander Lafone, was one of the very many killed and was later awarded posthumously the Victoria Cross for his part in that action. He is buried in the Beersheba Commonwealth War Cemetery . My father was taken on a donkey (a challenging journey – the Turks were
not particularly kind to the prisoners!) to Beersheba to a hospital run by Christian Nuns. Newton Farm, Tattenhall Swallowcroft, Bebbington .

There is a photo of men in pyjamas on a ward (all propaganda, of course) which included my father. Normally they didn’t wear pyjamas. I actually saw that picture in a film for tourists, during a later holiday in the Holy Land My father was quite a daredevil and wasn’t afraid of his captors. The patients had noticed a tree full of oranges in the garden of the hospital. One dark night he climbed out of a window and gathered a lot of beautiful oranges for him and his pals, but only to discover that they were very sour marma-lade oranges! After a time, he was sent on a cattle train heading for the Taurus mountains to join other prisoners digging a tunnel. On the way the train stopped at a prisoner-of-war camp. Already behind the wire was a pal of my father who said: ‘get out, Tom. It’s not too bad here and they need someone who can speak French’. My father walked through the camp gate and, because of his ability with French which some of the educated Turks spoke, was put in charge of the food for the pris-oners! His hut did well – he purloined extra food for them, and his captors never found out. My father’s diary of his prisoner-of-war years survives.

I was born on 3rd October 1923 whilst living at ‘Swallowcroft’, Chester Road, Bebington (my grandpar-ents’ house) near Birkenhead, Cheshire. My sister, Nanette, was 15 months older than me. We had a very happy childhood and learnt a lot from Grandmother Amelia who had been a headmistress at a tiny school in Wales, and had married my grandfather, John Hignett, a Registrar for Births, Deaths and Marriages. They both lived together with my parents, but John had died in 1921, shortly before Nanette and I were born. My father worked for the Civil Service (HM Customs and Excise). Before the First World War, he had been sent to work in London and there joined the Middlesex Yeomanry (a volunteer cavalry unit) in 1912.

My grandmother, born Amelia Thomas, had an extremely unusual incident in her early adult life, which is worth recording here for posterity, in case it gets forgotten, Amelia was the Welsh-speaking daughter of Evan Thomas, the sexton and clerk of the church in the village of Bwlch-y-Cibau in Montgomeryshire, Wales. Amelia was employed as the housekeeper to the vicar, the Rev John Rowlands. She also became the Sunday School teacher and after the illness of the village schoolteacher. Amelia also took on that responsibility, being encouraged and educated by the vicar so that she became a ‘certified teacher’.


They spent much time together over several years, writing copious romantic letters to each other and eventually falling in love. They became engaged to be married, but after a time the Rev Rowlands broke off the engagement after his father, also a vicar but of another parish in Wales, objected to it on the grounds of their ‘social disparity’. Amelia, then 25 years of age, sued John Rowlands in the Sheriff’s Court in London in July 1876 for breach of promise. No defence was offered by the defendant, and Amelia was awarded £850 (around £85,000 in today’s money) in damages.

Because of my grand-mother’s health, we moved to a lovely bungalow in Rock Ferry in 1929 (27 Ravenswood Avenue). We had a large garden, so I was able to have a grey long-eared rabbit, lots of Guinea pigs, and Taffy (a Welsh terrier). Taffy and Mrs Bennet (the rabbit) would play and eat together! Nanette and I both attended the Queen’s School in Chester. My grandmother died in 1939.

We fortunately survived the Second World War, although the house sadly didn’t! The bungalow was built on a slope so my father shored up the back with railway sleepers making an air-raid shelter. It had electric light and fire, and three beds. My father made a trap door in the hall of the bungalow, with a ladder down to the shelter. When the air-raid sirens sounded, my mother, sister, the dog, the canary and I would spend the night down there until the ‘all clear’ sirens sounded. My father was an air raid warden and would be dealing with incendiary bomb fires.

Once we were down in the shelter for three nights running and felt pretty weary not getting much sleep (with school the next day) so we decided to stay in bed. But Taffy, our dog, pulled the eiderdown and sheets off our beds and kept barking! My mother thought Taffy was acting differently, so we decided to go down into the shelter again. After a while we heard a tremendous noise and the light and fire went out and we began to smell gas. We had a torch and tried to get to the trap door, but it was blocked, as was the door from the shelter into the garden. My mother kept calm and we eventually heard someone outside knocking on the door to the garden. It was my father and his friends, who were able to get us out of the shelter. We were so relieved to have had help, but unfortunately the canary had died. I think the bombs were land mines, one in the back garden and one in the road at the front. They made huge craters.

Some friends came to our rescue and we slept in their house. Next morning, we could see the damage to the bungalow. It was horrific. There was a holly tree on my bed, and a paving stone on my sister’s. The front of the bungalow had lost all its windows and roof tiles, but the rear of the bungalow was completely gone. I think the bungalow was eventually rebuilt, but we relocated to Parkgate, on the bank of the River Dee, where then fishing boats moored alongside the wharf, and with an ice cream kiosk there! Friends had told us that the house next door to theirs was then currently available. My parents subsequently moved to a lovely bungalow in nearby Neston (‘Rosebank’, Parkgate Road).

My father, sister and I all caught the 7.55am bus to Birkenhead each weekday. My father and sister then took the underground railway to Liverpool (my father to work and Nanette to Medical School at Liverpool University), whilst I took the Mersey ferry to Liverpool where I attended the FL Calder College of Domestic

Science for three years from 1942 to 1945. This was quite a famous institution, having been founded in 1875 by Fanny Louisa Calder, a pioneer of cookery and domestic science whose aim, together with her ‘Committee of Ladies’, was to improve the general standard of living and nutrition in Liverpool, especially among the poor. Although an independent college in my time, it later merged with Liverpool Poly-technic and then eventually became part of present Liver-pool John Moores University. On the ferry, I would walk round the upper deck of the ferry with two other girls from the College. One dull morning in the late Autumn of 1942 a rather tall chap in a navy mac said to me: ‘rough day, isn’t it?’, and propelled me up to the top deck to walk round with him. My two pals were a bit put out! I learnt his name was Christopher Allen and he was staying with his aunt in Parkgate while his ship was in dock being refitted. Christopher was a civilian in the Victualling Department of the Admiralty and sailed with the Royal Fleet Auxiliary (RFA) in its ships.

My parents knew his aunt in Parkgate (Nanette and I always told our parents when we met new people!). Christopher came to supper on my 19th birthday on 3rd October 1942 and we had chicken which was very special in those wartime days. I knew him for ten days (or rather eight days, as he went to say goodbye to his parents for the last two days) before sailing. In those eight days he took me out to lunch at a posh restaurant in Liverpool and gave me a pink carnation. We went to the cinema and walked along the Dee estuary with Taffy. After ten days he sailed away into the fog and I was really very sad.

We corresponded during the final years of the War while he was in Aden, Eritrea, Goa and Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). On my 21st birthday (3rd October 1944) I received from Christopher in the post a beautiful Ceylonese sapphire. In the letter, he said that if the answer was ‘yes’ I should have the stone set in a ring with two diamonds; if ‘no’ I should put it in a bank vault until he returned! I said ‘yes’ with no hesitation, but the jeweller in Liverpool didn’t have any ‘first class’ diamonds available until after the War, so I had the sapphire set in a ring on its own!

Whilst at the College, I was sent briefly to Ilminster, Somerset with some of the other girls to help feed potato pickers! Our ‘war work’. My first teaching job after College as a domestic science teacher was in a school at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, in north-west Leicestershire.

When the Japanese finally surrendered (on 15th August 1945), Christopher was able to fly home to Hurn Airport (Bournemouth). We met up again at Leicester Station in November 1945 and married in Neston Parish Church on 11th June 1946. As a result of Cristopher’s career as a civilian attached to the Royal Navy civilian, we were subsequently to have some wonderful post-war years abroad in Gibraltar, Singapore and Malta. After our wedding, Christopher and I moved to a small rented house in Hampstead Garden Suburb. Christopher’s work (still with the Admiralty Victualling Department) was based in London then. He had been brought up in Hampstead, although by that time his parents had retired to Hampshire, in the New Forest.

A significant event around that time, particularly for my parents, was the relocation to Canada of my sister, Nanette. After qualifying as a doctor from Liverpool University School of Medicine, she went to Ottawa Civic Hospital to continue her studies in general medicine. There she met Albert Menzies, also a junior doctor at the hospital, but at that time a patient on the TB Ward where she was his attending physician. They married in 1950, moved to Vancouver and had five children (Heather, Anthea, Michele, Bronwen and Neil). Michele now lives in Washington State USA, but the others are still in and around Vancouver
BC with their own families. Albert trained in psychiatry at the University of Toronto and, in around 1959, he went for a year to Baltimore USA to specialise in child psychiatry, and both my parents(‘ Grampi’and ‘Mimpi’) went over to Vancouver for a year to help Nanette look after the children. Nanette worked for many years as a GP in Vancouver. Nanette died in 2007 and Albert in 2010, but that is all another story for the Canadians themselves to tell!

All three of our children were born whilst we were in Hampstead Garden Suburb. Penelope (Penny) in 1947, Alison (Ali) in 1949 and Wendy in 1950. To help with the children, we engaged as a nanny a Swiss girl called Margaretha for a year (thereafter known as ‘Nanny Margrit’). Just a few weeks after Wendy was born, Christopher was appointed Victualling Supply Officer
in charge of the HM Victualling Yard in Gibraltar so the whole family, including ‘Nanny Margrit’,set off to Gibraltar to live
there for three and a half years in a Royal Navy married quarter at the Old Naval Hospital. Christopher’s office was in the
early 19th century Victualling Yard at Rosia Bay (located on the southwest side of Gibraltar and its only natural harbour), completed in 1812 to replace the original Yard at the South Mole destroyed by the Spanish during the Great Siege in 1799. At its Rosia Bay location, 19th century ships were able to anchor directly in the bay to obtain provisions, including food and water.
In 1953, we relocated to Scotland as Christopher had been appointed Victualling Supply Officer at the HM Royal Elizabeth Yard, Dalmeny, near Edinburgh, serving the Rosyth Dockyard. Our home was the official Supply Officer residence attached to the Yard. Margaretha had returned to Switzerland at the end of her year. She married there, had two children of her own, and we kept in touch right up to her very sad premature death from cancer in the 1990s.

In 1955, Christopher obtained the marvellous posting on promotion as Senior Victualling Supply Officer at HM Victualling
Yard in Singapore. We were there for three years living in wonderful married quarters, firstly 143 Queen’s Avenue and then
118 King’s Avenue. These were two of the famous ‘Black and White Houses’ built in Sembawang, near HM Naval Base during the first quarter of the 20th century colonial era. Thanks to Christopher’s civil service equivalent Naval rank of Captain RN, we
had a marvellous experience and lucky enough to have a considerable ‘staff’ contingent including cook, housekeeper,
gardeners and amah (nanny). We drank a lot of gin, went to a lot of parties and played a lot of Mahjong! There was also quite a lot of sailing and tennis.

Then in 1958 (until 1962), another move back to Scotland to the Royal Elizabeth Yard and the same Supply Officer’s house. Quite a change from Singapore! The girls had a horse there (for Penny and Ali – Wendy wasn’t interested in horses!) and they all went cycling a lot. The social life in Scotland for us was a lot less than when abroad!

Our final overseas posting was to Malta (from 1962 to 1965) where Christopher was Senior Victualling Supply Officer at HM Victualling Yard there. This was based in the Grand Harbour near Fort St Angelo. The Fort was classified by the Royal Navy as a ‘stone frigate’ known firstly as HMS Egmont and later (from 1933) as HMS St Angelo. In the middle ages, it had been the official residence of the Grand Master of the Order of St John (also known as the Knights of St John).

We lived in a married quarter (The Old Bakery) in the Fort at the beginning of our stay in Malta, but then later moved to a
rooftop flat in an old medieval house in Ta’Xbiex. During this time, the three girls were away at schools in the UK (Penny at
Mary Erskine School in Edinburgh; Ali and Wendy both at Howells School in Denbigh, North Wales), so we saw them only during
the school holidays. Fortunately, there were lots of Naval functions to go to, including some parties with Midshipmen (for
the girls)! We also went sailing and played tennis a lot.

In 1965, our overseas tours were sadly over and we returned permanently to the UK, initially to a rented house in Wimbledon whilst we were deciding where to put down UK roots! Christopher was once again working in London, now within the recently formed (in 1964) Ministry of Defence (MOD), at the Empress State Building near Earl’s Court. He had been pro-moted to Assistant Director responsible for tri-service shipping fuel movements and transport, and continued to work there until his retire-ment in the 1979. It is an interesting landmark building, built between 1958 and 1961 on the site of the former Empress Theatre/Hall (an enor-mous and famous late 19th century musical theatre and later an ice rink, home to London’s Ice Spectaculars), originally as a hotel but never used as such. It was first occupied by the Admiralty and GCHQ, and later by the MOD. It is now owned by the Mayor of London’s office and is occu-pied currently by the Metropolitan Police Service (MPS) and Transport for London (TfL). It briefly enjoyed the status of being London’s tallest building, before being eclipsed by Millbank Tower which was built shortly after in 1963.

Penny went from school to study physics at the University of Manchester, and then on to ICI. Ali studied German and French at the University of Reading, and became a teacher. And Wendy went to Guy’s Hospi-tal to become a State Registered Nurse (SRN).

We bought our first house in Cheam, Surrey (33 Meadow Side Road) in 1966, and remained there until 1981 when my father (who was by then living with us, my mother having died in 1974) died. We then moved to Banstead, Surrey (Kenneth Road) until 2003, moving briefly to a flat in Crookham Village shortly before Christopher’s sad death the following year at the age of 84. During our time in Cheam, I worked as a domestic science teacher at Surbiton High School for Girls.

The three girls had married very close together. Penny married Charles Brown (who originally studied chemistry at Cambridge and Imperial College, and then worked in the City) in Cheam in 1970. They had a boy, Christopher and eventually settled in Hertford-shire (she now lives near Ring-wood in Hampshire). Ali married David Moore (a boat builder from Wroxham on the Norfolk Broads) in Ewell in 1971. They had two children, Tom and Amy and settled in Norfolk. Wendy married Robin Jenkins (a British Airways pilot) in Ewell, also in 1971. They had three children, Laura, Nick and James and settled initially in Berkshire, and then in Hampshire. They are my six grandchildren. I now have fourteen great-grandchildren as well! They are all spread currently between New York, Newcastle, Cambridgeshire, Suffolk, Norfolk and Hampshire!

In 1996, tragedy struck the family with the premature death of my middle daughter Ali in Norfolk, from cardiomyopathy caused by a virus at the age of just 47. A terrible, terrible year for us all.

Soon after Christopher’s death in 2004, I moved into a very pleasant two-bedroom bungalow ( in a sheltered housing development in Hartley Wintney, Hampshire. I had a very happy time there with family and friends, both old and new. I played a lot of bridge, with several groups.

After Wendy’s first marriage ended, she also bought a house in Hartley Wintney in 2008 (where she still lives, now with her present husband, Ian). At Easter 2019, at the age of 95, fully independent living be came a little difficult so, after a trial period,
I decided to move permanently into a private residential care home where I now am. It is Rowan Lodge, in the small village of Newnham, near Basingstoke, just under five miles away from Hartley Wintney. Life is very different there, compared with
independent living. But it is a pleasant place and I am well cared for, which is the most important thing . Wendy is able to visit often, and also Penny who lives close to Ringwood and the New Forest, in south Hampshire. I am still able to get out a bit
with either Wendy or Penny, especially when the weather is nice.

However, early in 2020, Covid 19 struck and we were in lockdown for ages with very limited visits and then under very strict conditions. Eventually, things were relaxed, and I am now able to see Wendy and Penny again, and even go out for lunch with them .

On 3 October 2023 I celebrated my 100th birthday, receiving a birthday card from the King and Queen. The care home put on a lovely party for me attended by close family and many residents. On the weekend before, they arranged a ride on a motor trike for me, accompanied by 16 other motorcyclists from a local motorcycle club. It was great fun.

On Saturday, 7 October 2023 the family arranged a big birthday lunch party for me in Odiham (Laura’s and Jason’s house) for all of my family members—my children (and their spouses), grand children and great grand children. There were 27 people in total and it was a wonderful time.