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I remember the very first siren in our hometown of South Shields. My mother had been on a visit to see her brother and family, taking me with her. On our return home, which wasn’t far, I was trying out some skates, holding mother’s hand when this horrible noise went off. I was practically doing the splits and we were terrified. I must have just had my 8th birthday. I’ll never forget that day.
Further into the war we spent nights in our shelter having been woken up, told to hurry up and get the cushions and covers and also the toffee box that held all the important papers: birth certificates, Ration Books, Insurance Policies, ID Cards etc.
One night a bomb dropped in the next street. Luckily no one was killed, but the bomb sliced the corner off the flats and I remember the bath hanging down and the toilet in the garden. The bomb had not gone off and was buried in the ground. Our Estate had to be evacuated and we were all holed up in our local school, sleeping on the floors. Our town Market Place was bombed and fine buildings demolished and worst of all people were killed.
Everything was rationed and we used to get up early and form queues outside the bread shop, then next door to the fruit shop, then Duncan’s the grocery shop. Sometimes there wasn’t much choice left in the shops after all the queues.
Wintertime the whole place was pitch black before teatime. The windows had black blinds and not a chink of light had to be seen — no street lamps, only a dull torch hand held. We had to carry gas masks too.
I remember looking up to the sky and seeing enemy planes in the huge searchlights and guns going off. It was all very scary.
Then the war was over, the street was full of flags, everyone was happy and managed to fill tables with food we hadn’t seen the likes before and had a huge street party.
I have never forgotten the day men from our streets came home from the war. It must have taken them hours to reach their own homes because everyone was at their gates crying and singing, laughing and dancing and hugging these few brave neighbours who had made it home at last — from a long, bloody war.

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