Start of my childhood in Dover

Start of My Childhood in DoverAfter the war, our family moved to Dover, a busy ferry port in Kent, just across the Channel from France. Mum and Dad were entrepreneurs and became the first in town to obtain a hotelier’s license after the war. With that, they opened Claire House, a guesthouse at 138 Folkestone Road. This marked the beginning of my childhood memories, as the war ended and we were finally reunited with my brothers. Rationing was still in place, but the joy of being together filled our home. Dad’s new venture allowed him to acquire fuel for a Vauxhall, a spacious car that might have once served the army. The four of us boys and Mum often piled into it for day trips across the countryside. Sometimes Dad would pull over at a pub for drinks — lemonade for us, something stronger for him and Mum. One trip to Eastbourne introduced me to Jewish cuisine for the first time: smoked salmon, rollmops, matzos, anchovies, and potato salad. I was seven, and from that moment, I loved fine food. With the reopening of the Channel, Dover buzzed with visitors, keeping Mum and Dad busy at the guesthouse. About a year later, they moved us to a larger house across the road at 167 Folkestone Road. I grew particularly close to Dad during this time, accompanying him on shopping trips to local stores — butchers, grocers, fruiterers, even farms for fresh chicken. Dad was well-known and respected; shopkeepers greeted him by name, and I followed proudly, a little shadow in awe of my father. We also had a small dog, Rex, who rode in the car with us. Protective and feisty, he barked at anyone who approached — giving Dad some peace of mind while driving.Childhood parties at Claire House left lasting impressions. Mum and Dad entertained friends and colleagues, filling the house with laughter, music, and the aroma of delicious food. Though my brothers and I were tucked into bed as the evenings progressed, the energy of those gatherings lingered long after lights out. Dad’s charm extended to everyday life as well. He would answer the door wearing a huge white apron, instantly tuning into the visitor’s accent and effortlessly imitating them. People loved him; he could make friends with anyone. I often thought he could sell ice to the Eskimos.My schooling began at three primary schools: Belgrave Primary, St. Mary’s in Stembrock, and St. Martin’s in Elms Vale. I enjoyed St. Martin’s the most, with its modern facilities, but I ran into trouble with an English teacher who accused me of cheating when sunlight made the blackboard unreadable. My father believed me, thankfully. Meanwhile, my brothers joined HMS Mercury, the Royal Navy training school, while I and my younger brother David went to Horam boarding school near Hailsham, Sussex. The Principal, a passionate butterfly collector, sparked my interest in entomology.Life at boarding school wasn’t without its challenges. I suffered a severe case of ringworm, requiring months of treatment at Middlesex Hospital. During my recovery, I stayed with relatives who imposed strict rules, making for a difficult experience. Looking back, these early schooling years were a mix of lessons, adventures, and hardships, shaping me in unexpected ways.In December 1950, our family grew with the arrival of my little brother, Phillip. I quickly took on the role of helping care for him, a responsibility I would remember and cherish in the years to come.

found this movie it will give you a good idea what Dover was like just after the war.