大象传媒

I was 12 years old then. My dad had put bunks in for me and my two sisters. We usually went to the shelter, but one particular night we didn't, and a firebomb hit the house at the bottom of the street. It was Doctor Jack's house, but luckily they were in the cellar. The house was cut off - the side of the house had disappeared. We just went back to bed, as we didn't worry too much about it. The Germans usually tried to bomb a factory nearby, but sometimes they missed. One bomb fell on the market place on a Saturday at lunch time; we were told it would go off at 12 o'clock, and Mum was cross with me as she had warned me to be quick. We just tried to carry on as normal as much as we could. One time we were in the shelter and we heard the windows smash; Grandma said "Oh my house!", but no one was killed in Adlington.
We could see the glow in the sky when Liverpool and Manchester were bombed; people would say things like "They are catching it in Liverpool." There was a police station at the end of the street; if I missed the train, I used to phone the police station to ask them to tell my mum and dad that I would be late.

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