Sunday, February 11, 2007

Well Limey...

When my father was just 15 he was evacuated to the United States, making an unusually northerly convoy crossing of the Atlantic which took a full ten days. On arrival at the docks in New York he found himself a taxi to take him to the hotel where he would be met. As soon as he had settlled in the rear seat the driver turned around and addressed him cheerily:

"Well limey, how's it feel to be a refugee?"

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