大象传媒

The thing that sticks in my mind most about the war occurred when I was nine years old and living with mother and father in Cavendish Street, Ipswich. It was a bouncing bomb that fell at the top of Bishops Hill, bouncing over Holywells Park, striking houses on one side of Myrtle Road, then accross to the other side and finishing up in Unity Street. It fell during the night time when, as usual, we were sleeping in the Anderson shelter in the garden. It made a huge bang and shook the ground, and ended up demolishing houses on both sides of Myrtle Road and in Unity Street.
My father was an auxillary fireman with Ransomes, Simms and Jeffreys who had premises nearby, and he had to go out to help extinguish the fires. On his way home he tripped over something in the blackout and found it was a small puppy. He bought it home but couldn't find the owner (maybe they had died in the bombing) and so we kept it. It was my first dog, a collie cross that we called Nellie and which made a lovely guard dog for my mother's general store in Cavendish Street.

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