Dorothy and Bert, number 53, Kimberley Avenue, Peckham. Their prefab is not as cosy as Ray and Jean’s. They never had the means to buy, hardly the ones to maintain it. Bert is chatty, with a cockney accent. His services for the British Empire allow him a small war pension. He keeps talking about all the places he has been to which I had never heard of: Bert lived wars of decolonization different from the ones I learnt at school. Bert is 80 and still needs to drive a taxi to make means end. Bert is not really found of the Council. “Since 1946, the house has been repainted only once. It’s been month that I am telling them there is a leak in the roof. They do nothing. They wait for us to disappear so that they can pull down.”