In November 1947 we moved to a new council house in Orpington. The road in which we lived, Robin Hood Green, resembled a wine-glass in shape, with our house situated on a corner which would represent the top of the stem. The inner part of this shape had no buildings, but was left as a green area. One day I was standing on the edge of the green, opposite our house. Since this grass was relatively newly sewn, it was fairly sparse and rather tall, in the order of six or seven inches of spindly growth. Nosing about in the grass not many yards away was a dog, a creature of ordinary mutt-like proportions, about twelve to fourteen inches tall at the shoulder. It was facing across the green and so had its tail-end towards our house. Just then Ted, my elder brother came out of our house to his motor-bike. He kicked the engine over to start it and, true to form with this machine, it backfired with a resounding BANG! The dog was so startled that it took off upwards, so that all four feet were clear of the grass tops and it started to run whilst its feet were off the ground. It hit the ground running and shot off like a bullet from a gun, across the green and out of the end of the road. As far as I’m aware it is still going!