大象传媒

I was born in Keynsham on 12th March 1941.
This was an important day for several reasons. I was the first child for my parents...my birth probably saved the lives of both my parents and myself. They lived in a flat which was part of a large Georgian house in Brislington, Bristol. Shortly after my mother was taken to the nursing home to await my birth, the house was hit by a bomb/missile and their flat was destroyed. Had anyone been in it at that time they may well have not got out alive. At this point the family was homeless but fortunately managed to find a cottage to rent which was about fifty yards away from the damaged property. I lived there with my family for the next eleven years of my life.
Family life continued in as a 'near-normal' fashion as possible. We kept hens, grew our own vegetables which were shared with friends and neighbours.
Winters were cold....no central heating in those days....so my Grandmother used to visit us from where she lived in Clifton (Bristol), bringing with her as many lumps of coal as she could manage to fit into her shopping bag.
My mother made dresses for me from those of her own which she had unpicked. Similarly, she knitted me a siren suit from wool she had rescued from an outfit of hers. I remember it being a rust colour, with a hood and very thick. The idea was to have something warm to wear when and if the sirens gave the warning sound and we had to go to the air-raid shelter next door. One day I was wearing it in the house, watching my Grandmother clearing out a cupboard, walking backwards as I went and sat straight in a bucket of water which I hadn't seen. My mother was not amused...no dryers then.
When I was three years old, we had two U.S. soldiers billeted with us....Tim and John. I think Tim used to have too much to drink on some occasions as he used to have a motorised bicycle which he rode round the garden at great speed, usually ending up in the rockery. Both he and John used my toy elephant on wheels for target practise. They hung it in a tree and shot at it...little silver bullets with either green or pink fluffy ends. We lost touch with Tim, but I met John again in 1962 by going to U.S.A. By that time he had six children and a wonderful wife and I was lucky enough to stay with them for two months. Sadly, John died 2 years ago but I am still in touch, by telephone, with his widow. I have stayed with them many times, visited their children, know their grandchildren and have been adopted as their English daughter...a very long and much valued friendship.
At the age of 3/4, I remember tanks roaring past the house, tearing up the road surface as they went, barrage balloons overhead, the throbbing of the German aeroplane engines at night, Spitfires during the day.
Blackout curtains were very necessary, as was sticky tape on the windows to prevent glass from showering inside a room. Ugly as the curtains were, they probably reduced the draughts which whistled through the badly-fitting cottage windows.
Incredibly, we survived. Survived the bombing, rationing, cold, fear and all else which is associated with war. I am thankful that I was too young to realise the gravity of what was happening during my early years, but saddened to have been too young to experience the joy and relief when it was all over.

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