Uncle Jim explained that he'd been in a plane crash, and then he gave me a little metal model of a Spitfire.
I was thrilled: this was the first time I'd got something really interesting from a relative.
I was used to presents of pink and girly things, but I'd never had a toy plane before.

I still have it somewhere under my bed, but one of the wing supports is a little crooked.
This wasn't through lack of care; as I recall it was either from the time I fell over whilst playing with it, or a direct consequence of tying a yellow rubber stretchy man around it, who was being kidnapped by the Spitfire.