THIS tiny tot is me, squashed in the middle of a tandem in May of 1940, with my father in front and my cousin Frank behind.

Father was practising for cycling excursions into the Yorkshire Dales, and even in the Lake District that August before he joined the RAF.

For proper rides my mother replaced my cousin on the back.

Health and safety in those days seems to have been lax, as I didn't have a proper seat. I simply sat on a cushion tied to the horizontal bar, with my legs dangling. As long as my mother held on to her handlebars her arms kept me approximately upright.

I have blotted out the memory. All I can remember is being put to bed in a bottom drawer in a Lake District bed and breakfast. I have only ever been on a bicycle once since – and that was a mistake!