Dear Zen and Wies
My name is Jerry Jopek. The Jerry was changed to George (after the King) when we entered the U.S.
Both my parents were in North Africa in the Polish Free Army under British command.
We left the camp for the States in 1958 after a 7 year stay. I was 8 and my sister 4 years old at the time.
I was born in Tel Aviv and my sister at the camp.
I found your site on a whim after looking at some of my parents' travel documents with the camp's name. We lived at 63 Tweedsmiur.
My Mother is still living at age 94 while my Father past away at age 82.
My memories of the camp are sketchy at best but there are fond memories of friends I played with and the forests we roamed as children.
I remember the ferns, I loved the smell of them, the mushrooms I picked with my mother, the chickens, rabbits and ducks they raised.
The motor bike races in the woods as they tried to climb the large hill.
I remember a creek that ran through the area in which I used to play and crossed while taking a short cut to school on a beaten path through the country side.
The paved main road that wound through the hills, the winters, summers, the rain, with spring being my favorite and still is.
I vaguely remember the school I attended where I used to get my knuckles whacked. There was a grounds keeper there who left the mower running one day and I decided to put a piece of paper into the moving cutters; I think I scared him that day.
The days that my father took us to the seaside on his motorcycle one by one, my mother first and then us since he did not have a side cart. Not to say, he did not do this often.
My dad worked in an aircraft company and used his motorcycle (as we call them here) to commute. My mother worked cleaning houses in the town and on farms picking fruit.
I am attaching some pictures with this note.
Regards
George Jopek
