We are staying overnight in the small Worcestershire town of Pershore, on the way to see family in Cornwall. Why? Because I was born here in 1942. The place seems to have been preparing for my arrival, in that the restaurants in which we dined tonight was playing music from that era. The old Ella Fitzgerald song “Too darned hot” seems to be especially suited to the (highly unusual) British weather at the moment. She must have recorded that in about 1942.
What is more, as we wandered through the town after dinner we chanced upon the chapel my father had attended while he was here on active service with the RAF in 1942. It happened to be open for a choir practice, so we wandered in and introduced ourselves.
My attemt to find my birthplace was less successful. It appears to have been demolished.
The place has everything you could wish for, apart from an art gallery. I’m tempted!