“You will never, ever know what a lovely country this was,” wrote Geoffrey Prater, a Second World War veteran, in 2006. In a letter to journalist Nicholas Pringle, he recalled how his brother was killed by a parachute mine while fire-watching in Stratford in October 1940; how he himself served in North Africa and Italy with the Royal Tank Regiment; and how, in late 1944, his mother wrote to tell him that a V1 had destroyed their home and everything in it. Six decades later, he looked back on what they had sacrificed. “I am not going to comment on our country today,” he wrote, declaring his love for Queen and country. His letter ended simply: “Was it all worth it? No.” Prater was not alone. Last November, 100-year-old Royal Navy veteran Alec Penstone told ITV’s Good Morning Britain: “I can see in my mind’s eye those rows and rows of white stones.” He recalled the hundreds of friends who had given their lives. “For what? The country of today? No, I’m sorry. The sacrifice wasn’t worth the result that it is now.” Penstone, who died in May, seemed to bewilder ITV host Kate Garraway, who patronisingly offered an “Oh, I’m sorry” in the tone one might use to console a child who had lost a game of football.  Garraway’s co-host Adil Ray was downright rude, abruptly demanding: “What do you mean by that though?”  To answer that question, I have produced a documentary featuring the generation who remember Britain before mass immigration, exploring how the country has transformed within a single lifetime. stevenedginton.com/p/you-wil…