I don't know to this day how my parents came to hear about Peacehaven. Mum's ambition had always been to live in a bungalow in the middle of a field, and in February 1949 my Dad started to make that dream come true.

He left our comfortable two bedroomed semi-detached house in Reigate, Surrey, for a little black creosoted shed in the middle of three acres of land in Telscombe Road, Peacehaven. Every Sunday Mum and I would catch the train from Redhill, armed with corned beef hash, a delicious fruitcake and scones all homemade, and I suspect also Dad's clean undies. The only thing on my mind though was the edible luggage, and seeing my beloved Daddy after a seven long days.

I remember one letter he wrote to me. It was finished off with a picture of the hut being held down with ropes, and Dad hanging onto another one for dear life, with his heels dug into the mud. It was obvious a gale force wind was blowing, that really appealed to my six-year-old sense of humour. In a second note he drew the same man cutting grass in a field with a scythe. I have only just realised that was he, clearing the ground for the foundations for their dream home.

Mum and I joined him later the following month, March 29th. When I look at that meager shelter - it is still standing to this day - that the three of us lived and slept in for a summer, it amazes me that the three of us fitted in. Good job I was an only child. I just don't know how my parents managed. To me it was an adventure. To mum, at least, it must have been hell.

She cooked and warmed water on a small round black wood stove. I never saw her do our washing, but when I arrived home from school there was a full line blowing in the Peacehaven breeze. Goodness only knows how she ironed.

Our toilet was an earth closet, covered by an even smaller black hut than the one we were living in. We used torn up newspaper for toilet roll. As time went on and the hole began to fill, Dad would dig another one, move the privy over it and fill in the old one with earth.

By the autumn the bungalow wasn't finished, but was fit enough to give us shelter for the winter. In fact it was very cosy. The kitchen was complete, and that is where we spent most of our time now. Dad installed a Rayburn. This gave us warmth, hot water and something to cook on. Mum made the most appetizing stews and cakes on it, much tastier than anything today.

Both Mum and Dad worked hard all that year. I forgot to mention that Dad was a master builder, and was capable of anything in that line. In fact he installed our water supply and electricity. To start with we had a standpipe at the top of our drive, and I used to get a teaspoon, fill it with water and have a "drink". One day I grabbed a spoon that had been used to add castor oil to the chicken feed, uke!! Another time seawater somehow found it's way into the mains, and we had to carry our water from tanks placed at the top of Roderick Avenue.

Mum was a dressmaker, so she ran up the curtains and made our clothes, etc, although she could knock in a nail almost as well as her husband.

Summer 1950 arrived and so gradually did our animals. To begin with there was our first cat. A beautiful longhaired tabby tom, with white socks on each of his four feet. He gloried in the name of Miffy, which jumped into Mum's mind one day. Fast on his heels came a puppy called Josh, named after our ex-neighbours in Reigate. Unfortunately he fitted a lot, and had to be put to sleep. Next to arrive were some two hundred chicken, six Khaki Campbell ducks and two Saddle Back pigs. These were our livelihood though, not pets. I was quite happy at that age to watch Mum prepare the birds for Makita. This included her killing them, then plucking and drawing the intestines out. I couldn't watch now, I guess I have softened up from those days.

It was during this time I learnt a hard lesson! If you live with farm animals you do not make a favorite of any one creature, as I did of an extremely handsome turkey I called Gobble. He followed me everywhere. I dug worms for him and he would peck my hair as I bent down with a small trowel in my hand. Suddenly I noticed he wasn't around anymore. I said to Mum after looking everywhere for a few days, "Where's Gobble?" only to hear her say, "What do you think we had for dinner on Easter Sunday?" I still don't like turkey to this day.

To supplement our income Dad sold greengroceries off an old Bedford lorry. His round included Peacehaven, Saltdean and Rottingdean, where two of his customers were Sir George Robey, an old music hall star, and his wife.

I used to go with him to Brighton wholesale market. This meant setting out at five o'clock in the morning. It was always fresh and clean and we would go down on the sand at Ovingdean when the tide was out. There is something rather special about that time of day, so clean and fresh.

I thought I would be crafty one evening when I was about eight, and take a banana from the lorry while my parents were busy elsewhere. Just as I put my hand on the fruit a terrible scream emitted from a source nearby. I thought the very Devil himself had caught me stealing red-handed. With quaking stomach and shaking knees I had to find Dad and admit my "crime". When he came to investigate he found a rat had been trapped in a snare. I never tried to take again without asking first. A lot of moral lessons were learnt living so close to the land.

All the animals began to make way for greenhouses, which Mum looked after while Dad went to work for a building firm called Allmans'. He helped to build a lot of Peacehaven, mainly in the Dorothy and Horsham Avenue area.

Mum was busy growing and selling bedding plants, tomatoes, cucumbers and lettuce. Her great joy was to see the fields over the South Downs change colour with the seasons, she said it was like looking through a large kalidescope.

This really was a peaceful haven for a truly loving family. Dad is still there after fifty years, he is ninety-two now. He says he has never finished the bungalow. Mum died seven years ago, but her spirit can still be felt when I visit, and her ashes sit on the windowsill along with pictures of all the cats she ever had, including Miffy.