WHEN I came to work in Salisbury in the late 1950s one of my first “solo” jobs was Salisbury Sheep Fair held in the field opposite where we live in Castle Road and now the scene every Sunday of wildly enthusiastic young wannabe rugby stars. Marvellous!

We would arrive – myself, a drover (strappers they were called) and a clerk – to pitch hazel hurdles to make sheep pens.

Await the arrival of the lorries through Fairfield Road, unload, pen, select and ultimately sell the sheep at auction.

Then, take the money, despatch the sheep, dismantle the hurdles, return to the office, balance the books, send off the cheques to the vendors and go to the pub!

The reason for this little story is that throughout the whole day I was very much aware of the Spitfire factory which overlooked our peaceful little scene.

How important was that factory? Who worked there? Where are they or their descendants now?

I wonder, is there anyone who worked there in those crucial years still with us?

I hope so, but if not sons or daughters of those men—but I guess— mostly women, who have memories to share, a tale to tell.

If there are, and I will bet there are, what a story for this year of special memories!

Christopher Benson

Salisbury

sircjbenson@me.com