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When I was about eight or nine years old, I had whooping cough. Someone told my mother an old wives tale that if you went to a hill or a high point that the wind would blow the cough away!

So she took us up to Shooters Hill, and we stood there for a while. When it got darker, we looked across to the river Thames and we could see that the whole sky was blood red from the Blitz the previous evening.

It seemed like the whole of London was on fire. You could see the docks from up there…

You could see the reflection of the red sky in the river.

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