大象传媒

Imagine a long street of Victorian, two story, brick buildings. This was Newlands Road in Jesmond- a suburb of Newcastle on Tyne- where my family lived during the second world war. On one side nearly a third of the street was taken up with shops: a cobbler, butcher, greengrocer, baker, newsagent and grocer- all very convenient for the residents. On one occasion I remember queuing with my mother at the greengrocer's shop for bananas- a rare treat. When I asked her what colour bananas were, my mother replied playfully: 'Wait and see- actually they are all colours of the rainbow- red, purple and blue'.
At one end of the street you crossed over the road to find allotments leading to a small moor on which cattle grazed. Beyond that was 'the big moor' and the main road leading in one direction to the city centre and in the other to Gosforth. The other end of the street gave way to a small valley with a pond and many wild plants and trees. This was where the local children played after the war. I remember many a jolly bonfire and Hallowe'en night there. The pond was also a great draw. My sister and I would collect frogspawn each Spring and come back a few weeks later to return small frogs to the pond area.
But coming back to the war years - Newcastle's shipyards and industries were a magnet for the German Luftwaffe. So when my mother, Florence Coltman was due to give birth to me in September 1941 it was thought safer for her to travel to a maternity home in the Northumbrian town of Corbridge, some miles from the city of Newcastle. Quite soon after this I was brought back to the upstairs flat in Newlands Road which was our home. It had three bedrooms, including one we referred to as 'the utility room' because of the utility bed which was the only item of furniture therein. The living room was quite densely furnished with a heavy dining room table and chairs, a large radio on a side table and some easy chairs near the coal fire. The radio or 'wireless' was rather splendid with walnut casing and a screen which lit up. (Later on my younger sister Jennifer and I would sit in front of it to hear Children's Hour). At the rear of the flat you walked through a kitchen into a bathroom. Stone steps led down from the back door into a yard with an outside lavatory and a coal house. Our yard, like those of all the flats, led into a back lane where there was an air-raid shelter constructed of brick and concrete. The shelter had seats round the sides, but often there was standing room only.
Twenty months after my arrival I was joined by a little sister, Jennifer. I remember some quite tense times when my mother had to guide us down the steep stone steps to the yard to use the lavatory or to be within her sight while she did the outside chores: filling the coal bucket, doing the washing, using a mangle to wring out the clothes and pegging them to a clothes line. One icy morning my mother slipped as she made her way down the steps. She was carrying Jennifer and the washing and trying to guide me safely down to the yard. She was badly bruised but - goodness knows how- she managed to keep hold of the baby in such a way that the little one was not hurt, although all three of us sobbed loudly with shock; a neighbour came along to comfort us with soothing words and later on witch hazel for the bruises and some hot celery soup.
My father, Bill Coltman, worked at the munitions factory in Birtley, Durham and in the evenings he often went out again to fulfill his duties as an air-raid warden. (We still have his ARP arm band.) One night, when I must have been just coming uo to age three years, the siren went off shortly after my father returned from work. Jennifer and I were swiftly lifted from out cots and wrapped up warm. Down the stone steps we went, through the yard and into the lane. It was very dark but I noticed a small dark shape moving. I ran off in the opposite direction to where the shelter was with my father in hot pursuit. I gathered up the small black kitten which was mewing pitifully. My father picked me up together with the kitten - indeed it would have been extremely difficult to part me from the small animal- and made his way to the shelter. There was a peal of laughter as we entered the shelter. Everyone was amused to see such a small child holding a kitten so tenderly. I think the laughter helped ease the tension people were feeling. 'Margaret saved a kitten' became a much told story in our household. While I remember the incident, some of the details may have become embedded in my mind because of listening to all the re-tellings.

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