I spent many years searching for my Father with only a birth certificate to go on. Finally, i hit upn the idea of contacting the RAF as his number was on my birth certiciate. They traced him in days, and within a week i received a letter from him, he seemed happy and excited about the contact and we arranged to meet at a neutral Motorway Service Station, so each of us travelling a one hundred miles from opposite directions. I arrived first and sat with a pot of tea watching the door. I knew him at once as he searched the room for me, and we hugged and smiled and sat down. then came the bombshell and the most dissapointing news that i have ever received in my 59 years. He gently told me that he was not my Father, he had married my Mother when she was already pregnant and so his name was on my birth certificate. He married her to protect her .All those years she allowed me to search and said nothing. I believe we all have the right to know where we come from. I carry a strangers genes. I have been denied even his name and it has left a huge gap in my life which i have never been able to fill. My Mother and I are estranged and will probably never speak again and she will take his identity to the grave. Knowing she was a young RAF girl when she became pregnant, I often wonder if she was the victim of rape. In the 1940s and 50s rape was as common as it is today but no woman would have spoken of it, ever, it carried much more stigma and shame with it back then. Well i will never know, and like thousands of other people i can fantasize about who he was. In my childhood i was sure he would arrive and whisk me away to a fairytale life. He will be about 80 years old and if he is still alive and out there i hope he thinks of me now and again. Goodnight Dad.