Last Monday we travelled to the funeral of Uncle Charlie, Ted's older brother. On the way there I asked if he had known any of his family on his dad's side, or if he had met any of his cousins. He had been up to Newcastle to look but had never found any there. He had met one cousin during his army days though.
"Whenever you are posted to a new army billet your name went up on a huge board by the gate giving you your duties while you are there. On the first evening I wandered over to have a look at it and was surprised to find my name already on it, even though I had only just arrived (it usually took a day or two to get your name on there). I asked around and found out there was another bloke on the camp with the same surname. Turns out he was one of the cooks. I found their hut, walked in and shouted out 'anyone here named Hazon?' not realising that these chaps all had to be up and cooking breakfast at 4 the next morning, and were all asleep. The response was a whole lot of boots being thrown at me. Anyway eventually I met my cousin, who knew all about my dad and myself. It was the best I was fed all through my service and when I left he came and handed me a sandbag full of meat and grub (dont forget rationing was still going on) for my mum"