First, a big thanks for the copy n paste, a skill I never mastered.
Second, answers======prepare for a long tale in innumerable episodes, I told you all I have had a weird life; Peter was chucked out of home at age 16 by his mother. He married and had a son called Martin. This would be in the late 40's. He and my Mother, same age, artist, mutual friends, her family had gone to South Africa as soon as the war ended, she was alone, aged 16, in London, they got together, presumably the sex was marvellous but the relationship was not, I arrived in June 1951, my younger brother Pip at the end of December 1952, mum and dad fell apart in 54 I guess, Peter paid my mum £2 a week for a time, .While we boys were with a childminder, I never learned where Mum was, Pip fell, or was pushed, by another two year old boy, down a flight of stairs and broke his skull. My earliest memory is how I felt and what I saw while the police were investigating later that day. Wham. First memory, and more heavy stuff to follow. Lots. The one time I remember seeing Pater, at the end of Pip's funeral, a tall blond haired man with reddish skin, in a black suit, approached, someone said 'It's his father', he kissed me, said goodbye, turned and walked away. My mum hated him, said every time I asked, 'I am sorry Chris, but there is nothing good I can think of to say about him'. It became her mantra until I stopped asking when I reached 18. Later she told me her said to her at the funeral "I suppose you are going to blame me for this too, aren't you?' which astonished her and made perfect sense to me. She is still alive at 89, the same age he would be, has advanced dementia and lives in the same road we lived from 1956 on, 200 yards from where I now live. Because we are both housebound we don't get to see each other much, unless my sons arrange it and push our wheelchairs. She always acknowledged I have a right to know more about him; but made no pretence, she discouraged me strongly, so my efforts to learn more have been sporadic. I learned a little from two mutual friends of theirs, but most of all from web searches. Peter fell in love with Dianetics immediately, my mum was not impressed in the least. Scientology played no role in my life apart from being Peter's 'religion'. He did try to reopen communication with us in 1960, through a mutual friend; but was told my stepfather was huge and strong. I learned he had died in 1989, through a friend doing a web search for me in about 2002. I asked the Salvation Army to trace him, they used to provide that service, but, as my parents were not married, my rights as son were disallowed. That's more or less it. Some web searches but nothing much until I found this place.