in the old tin barrack we had a stove like that, the only form of heating or cooking, the tar hung down in stalagnites in the summer and in the winter the icicles. But it was ok. I can honestly say as a child I did not notice any harshness (after crossing post war Europe) though there were many difficulties in our lives. Sadly, my best friends there on the Lincolnshire wolds, at the former Bomber command base turned refugee camp, a latvian boy and his family disappeared to Winnipeg in Canada. I missed my 'brothers and sisters' from the children's home and now these new friends disappeared too, one after the other. I still, even now at nearly 70 get a cold feeling of aloneness nearly every day of my life, as soon as I close my eyes- hence I draw to abolish that feeling and change it to memories.