I arrived back
in England in April 1947, aged five. For the next five years we would
experience all the hardships of a country just starting to recover from
a terrible war. There was rationing for most of the period and the new
Welfare State was just beginning to be rolled out. There were very few
cars, phones, planes or television sets. The Berlin siege had started
along with the Cold War. The British Empire was crumbling fast, most
conspicuously with the Independence of India in 1947. It was a challenging
period when we had to live by our wits, like everyone else, in an age
of austerity though, towards the end, of increasing hope and gradual
improvement.
My home life was disrupted by the fact that my parents were usually
thousands of miles away in India. I was left with my sister Fiona when
I was nearly seven. My parents returned for a few months twice in the
following five years. So I was mainly brought up by my mother's parents.
I spent a great deal of time with their youngest son Robert, a wonderful
companion in whose footsteps I would tread through public school and
university. We rented a large house with a lovely garden, with secret
woods and with a gate out onto a Dorset heath. Despite the shock of
my parents absence it was a protected and loving environment.
I started as a very small boy of five who had spent his life in the
privileged world of the late Raj. I was sent to my first schools before
full boarding and began to learn to read, write, do arithmetic and learn
a little about the world. England was very foreign and it took time
to adjust. Yet the fact that I moved with the family I had known so
well in India, my grandparents and uncles, made it easier. I was deeply
absorbed in all sorts of games, collecting and living a virtual life
through my models, through children's books and comics, and in all forms
of play, particularly with my young uncle Robert. I learnt to ride a
bicycle, became interested in gardening and nature, and started to go
to religious camps in the holidays. It was a world where I felt encouraged
and stimulated, even if the physical conditions were hard. I grew from
a small child to the edge of adolescence before we moved in 1954 to
the Lake District.
I was
very fortunate to move to a home in the county of Dorset in southern
England. It was a beautiful landscape, at the heart of the country about
which Thomas Hardy wrote his poetry and novels. The house itself was
spacious and comfortable and the garden large and full of trees, paths
and lawns. I have written a book about these years based on letters,
photographs and other materials, published as Dorset Days.
This gives a very full account of the way my imagination and character
developed. Although I have only been back to the house and area a couple
of times, it remains vivid in my imagination and I am very aware of
how important this very English home and countryside, as well as the
powerful personality of those around me, shaped me into the person I
am now.