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This covers the years of the second world war and my late fathers's experiences as a victim of Nazi Germany.

There were a few women in our street who would taunt me as I walked past them. "What does your father do for work Peter?, they asked in that familiar sarcarstic tone and that smug smirk on their faces. I am sure that those rotten bitches knew very well that I did not have a father. I became a bit withdrawn and rebellios and resorted to hating the world and people. 

When I saw someone walking their dog, I came over and gave the dog a pat. It made me feel so good to have that connection with a small animal.

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