Saturday, October 5, 2024
I never met Margie. In fact, up until a few months ago ‘Margie’ was just a name written on the back of a few black and white photos from the summer of 1942. But my father, Jimmie, knew Margie, in that summer of ‘42, when he arrived in Chatham to train as a RAF navigator. He and Margie spent all their free time together, swimming, dancing, and going to shows. The relationship must have been special as both seemed to have treasured it over many years, in their different ways. Margie must have been quite a lady – after all, she managed to get my father out on the dance floor.
