Twelve months ago, I heard that Fieldway Green was up for sale at auction, and speculatively made a bid. My basic reason for becoming involved was nostalgic. The supposed threat of development, and the immediate residents' appeal for a new benign owner caught my interest, so I threw my hat into the ring. Alas for me, my hat was the only one in the ring and therefore I was deemed successful. I became the owner of the Green, a somewhat weird position to be in, as I live in Berkshire.

The nostalgia was there because my grandfather and grandmother moved into 41 Fieldway on the 7th July 1913. On that day my grandmother began a journal, which covered her life for the next 40 years. Her first entry reads 'We came to the Garden Suburb July 7'. They had 8 children. My father was the youngest - 11 at that time - and grew up with the Green as a playground. He eventually bought a house in Meadway, where I was born and lived most of my childhood and teenage years.

My grandfather was a grocer with a shop in Kensington. I suspect that he was good with his groceries, but poor with his business sense, and the failure of his business coincided with the move to Fieldway. With the help of a friend he followed his sons Frederick and Geoffrey out to Australia, with the intention that his family would follow once he had established a prosperous new life for himself. WW1 put paid to those plans, however, and he returned home.

My uncles, Fred and Geoff, both joined the Australian Army and seem to have fought in most of the battles, up and down the 'Old Front Line' from Ypres to Amiens. I am  proud that Geoff was awarded the DCM in that last battle, and I have a photo of him standing with his mum, whilst on leave, in the garden of No. 41. Along with my uncle Jack, all three sons fought in WW1 and survived, but sadly my grandmother's sister's three sons were all killed. Such are the vagaries of fate.