Peter Layton

Up to my thirteenth year we lived in the city (Hamburg) in an apartment block. A seven room apartment, including one for the maid, bathroom and a separate toilet, kitchen, and walk in larder. There were two balconies, one at the front, the other at the back. My walk to school was about just over a mile. After the hyper inflation, when my father lost his business, he started to work as an insurance broker. In 1928 my mother took over his business and he went to Nicaragua to work on a banana plantation. I remember waving him good-bye at the underground station.

When in Hamburg I remember the time my father taught me to cycle. Near our apartment there was a park. My father held on to the back of my bike, and then he must have let go, because I was cycling on my own. The trouble was that I fell off when stopping. The park was also use for sledging in the winter. The tennis courts nearby, were flooded with water in the winter and used for ice skating. Everybody had their own skates, which were fastened to ones boots with a key.

Once, when I was very young I went shopping with my brother I crossed the road, and when between the tram rails, was mesmerised by an approaching tram, knocked over and scooped up, I must have lost consciousness, because I can only remember being pulled out from under the tram. I was carried to a nearby sweet shop and being made a fuss over. My brother was told off by everybody, but I was none the worse, but for a little bump on my head. When we got home it was the usual “wait till your father gets home!”

And what fun I had at one Easter day, when I peed on my Nanny’s new hat from the balcony, which was just over the entrance. The less said the better.

On my Grannys 80 birthday we were all to be nicely dressed for the visit. My sister was to wash me, but I objected, locked my self in the toilet. Nothing would entice me to come out. I waited until was sure everybody had gone, then got myself ready and went to the party-only a few hundred yards away.

My Gran died shortly after, and during the funeral my brother and I played “hide and seek” at the cemetery much to my mothers’ embarrassment-not that my mum was easily embarrassed!