A little boy who was hidden away

Jabba the Hutts palace on the inhospitable Tatooine

RICK JACKSON: Orange skies, pungent pongs and trumpets from heaven – what a world!

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In the late 1950s, as a child of seven, I would sit in the back yard with my Scots gran, shelling peas while she told me stories about the Second World War.

They were mostly about the camaraderie with the neighbours, so I had a bit of a rose-coloured view of the war.

A Jewish boy called Joop Levy had a very different impression. At seven, he lived in occupied Holland during the war and friends of his father hid him in a ‘room’ under dozens of bales of hay. He was to remain in hiding for two-and-a-half years.

‘In hiding’ meant exactly that. If he came out, he risked being shot on sight by the Germans.

I met the charming Mr Levy last week at the ‘No Child’s Play’ exhibition at Portsmouth City Museum (on until February 13).

It’s a very powerful, moving and poignant display, featuring the toys of children and their stories from the Nazi Holocaust.

Did you know that one-and-a-half million of the six million Jews murdered in the Holocaust were childen?

Now, on to TV adverts that assume we women are stoooopid.

One of the two Co-op ads has the husband waffling on about all the time he’d have with his family if they didn’t do a massive weekly shop at a big supermarket on a Saturday and just went to the Co-op when they needed to.

Then the wife simpers on about having her nails done while hubby feeds the kids boiled eggs and soldiers. Oh, Yuksville.

Then, over a picture of a male and female lion nuzzling and waves crashing on the rocks, she hints that Saturday afternoons are not just for napping. Pass the sickbag.

So it looks like hubby is on a promise if they just nip to the local Co-op. Yeah, right.

Well just remember when you’re having a spot of mattress mambo (if that actually happens), it’s costing you.

Because I always find my basic food shopping is more expensive if I fill up my basket at the local Co-op.

So I’m off to a big supermarket. The nookie can wait until Sunday, dear.