Brian Wakefield was born in 1958, some eight years after his brother Ken and were brought up together in a prefab at 84 Orpen Road, Southampton from until 1965.

I was subjected to the usual thing of what big brother says goes, like the time I was told it would be a good idea to become a mascot for his motorbike and was told it would be perfectly safe to sit on the petrol tank while he and his friends rode it around the bricky (brickworks.)

He was lying, I still have the scars !

We used to have a shed in the garden that was made of corrugated iron. Formerly these would have been buried half way into the ground and covered with earth and used as air raid shelters. This shows the nation's need to adapt and use everything it could.

Ken was big enough to get on top but I couldn't so he would lift me up the side and tell me to hold on to the large rusty bolts on the top, from where it was great to be able to see Fawley oil refinery. Fawley flames as we called it. I should have known better because he would walk away and leave me there.

We used to have a neighbour who grew peas in his garden up against the fence between the two plots. We used to pick these and I still don't know to this day if he knew, but they were very nice.

In the summer, Mum would take us down to Weston shore with our friends as a days outing. It seemed to take forever to get there and even longer coming back.

Would anyone walk that far now with umpteen screaming kids without a car? I doubt it. And would anyone want to swim there? I doubt that too.

Now and again we would have mince for dinner and we would wind the handle as mum pushed the meat through the mincer and then it was a race to see who could eat the mince first as it dropped on the plate.

I showed my kids a mincer and they said what's that. When explained they said, "Why not buy it in frozen bags?" At least we knew what we were eating.

The milkman used to come round with his cart and he used to sell a chocolate drink called a Mickey. It was a real treat to get one of these and I wish you still could.

The pigswill lady came around every so often to collect any food scraps too feed her pigs. I wonder what they eat nowadays? Probably something in frozen bags.

We were one of the last families to leave the prefabs and it was a shame to watch the little homes become empty, standing there with broken windows and overrun gardens.

It didn't matter that inside the wallpaper was different or the lino was a different pattern. Each one was the same as the next one: nice little homes.

Would I live in a prefab today? Yes I would. Just as long as my big brother isn't there.

Brian Wakefield, 2002