Nevertheless it's vivid enough, covering some of the most momentous years of this century, when I was a primary school pupil in Holyhead.

What a bustling, exciting place to be a small boy! The Railway and Marine Yards were hives of activity. The town swarmed with servicemen - soldiers, sailors and airmen, some of mixed nationalities.

In the early years there was an additional sense of danger, as we were an occasional target for the Luftwaffe, en route to Liverpool. That subsided after 1942, when enemy air activity in our zone ceased.

We boys were older by then and ranged about - a gang of scruffy ruffians playing Commandos and Germans, Cowboys and Indians or Legionaries and Arabs, depending on what film was showing at the Empire or Hippodrome.

To appreciate the effects of war, one must first experience peace. I am old enough to recall the pre-war days, which seemed so plentiful.

I lived with my parents and younger brother in a tiny terraced cottage - 9 Cross Street. Fortunately, my father was in a good job - on the footplate of the LMS locomotives, so we did not want for good food. In the war this was a reservist occupation, which meant he was not called up to the armed services.

So up to 1939 our table was always well stocked, especially on Saturday nights when relatives were frequent visitors. Christmas was a dream. The shops were brilliantly lit and full of goods. Presents of toy projectors, gramophones, cars and Meccano would appear on Christmas morning.

With the onset of war, this delightful world vanished. The streets were pitch black at night, the shops were empty and to a five-year-old the disappearance of all but a few sweets seemed like a disaster! You are all used to seeing well-stocked sweet shop shelves with old favourites - Cadbury's Dairy Milk chocolate, Aero, Crunchie, Maltesers, Rolo. So it was in 1939, together with some no longer with us.

The inimitable taste of Bluebird and Edmondson's Red Seal toffee lingers on the tongue to this day! By 1940 you could not find them. I recall searching the town shops in Waterside, Stanley Street and Market Street for a bar of chocolate, clutching a sixpence (2.5p) I had been given. It had a spending power of almost a pound nowadays.

There were bars of chocolate on a card in the window of Mrs Nunn's general shop next door to us, but she would not sell one without my mother's permission. Through my tears I could not understand why my mother would not allow it. In fact, these chocolates were laxative bars!
Read more of Ken's wartime memories