I grew up in a small village after the war in homes that the government built to accommodate people displaced by the war. We all came from London Liverpool and Ireland and happily melted into a little village. Most of us were poor having lost all of our possessions. One of my best friends was the product of a white British mother and a black American father who was absent in her life. I never once saw or heard anyone mention her race or the fact that her parents were not married. Everyone seemed to be happy living in the beautiful countryside and roaming freely. She was a dear dear friend and l miss her dearly.
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