For me, D-day has a familiar perception. Not because I was there, duh!, but because of what happened when I was young. When I was 7, we as a family moved from Lincolnshire to Le Havre in France. Dad had managed to get promoted to managing a paint factory there (Celomer), a subsidiary of the British company Courtaulds (which is no more) where he worked, and so we all went over there for, as it turned out, three years. For me, it certainly was an adventure for sure. Not only having to learn French, but because we were just over the Seine river from Normandy. This would have been 20 years after D-day. […]
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