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Just before the Hanney family moved from Derbyshire to Coventry, the first bombs of the war (as we were told) had been dropped near our house at the end of cannon park road, our land now occupied by Warwick university. Before nightfall, my mother had to run up blackout curtains for the living areas, and I think we probably went to bed in the dark. We were on the southern edge of the city, on what became the smoke screen ring around the city. Oil from the canisters polluted the brook opposite our house for decades)
My brother and I went to school in Warwick by Midland red bus — four to a double sear and a solidly packed aisle. But first my brother went to the local primary school by bike, and I remember a day when he had fled home after seeing a Fokker Wolf aircraft (we could recognise all planes at that time) machine gunning the railway as he had passed).
In the course of time we had a heavy ack ack gun a mile away to the south and there was a barrage balloon at the northern end of the road. My mother had a dreadful time at the local shops where she was of course not a regular customer and so was at first not permitted to buy food. Dad went to work at the technical college by bike, was in charge of electrical training for the troops, reduced the college’s heating fuel consumptions. Significantly, but nevertheless, was included in the salary reduction imposed by the local council. He became and air raid warden, kept an eye on pregnant neighbours, while mum knitted, sewed, gathered wild foods and looked after us 3 children: and grew vegetables.
As a guide, I learned to march stylishly and I was a practice ‘casualty’ on the southern bypass, which was half occupied by tanks, armoured cars, lorries etc for the invasion. A scout in the parish (whom I later married) acted as a messenger as part of a Sea Scout troop which did much useful work.
I remember going to an event in the central hall addressed by a Russian woman soldier (Ludmilla Plarachenko?) and I gave 6d towards the welfare of Russian heroes.
The Hanney family missed the November blitz, but were there for the April Blitzes. We hardly ever went to town, the effort of Mum and 3 children walking half a mile to the nearest bus stop being too great. We had a detached house with no central heating, but a coal storage space under the stairs. Dad constructed a mattress frame over the coal and that was where we slept during the raids. Mum would knit a whole sock in a night and dad was out in his tin hat on patrol.
As a guide I went to camp in Wellesbourne where we had the use of a village hall and spent our days outing plums in cans. At night we could see and hear the heavy bombers going off on raids. We probably got there by lorry) we did a lot of walking and biking: my future mother-in-law had to walk back home (Coventry) from well south of Warwick once or twice for lack of any transport at all.
We never starved, as we later found that very good German friends had nearly done, but there was one occasion that was disastrous for my mother when my father (doubtless with weighty things on his mind) ate the family’s entire food ration of cheese for the week at one go. Heaven knows hoe, my mother must have rustled up something.
We listened to the radio a lot: I still picture the scene as the declaration of war was broadcast. ITMA was a regular lighter moment.
How frugally we lived! To this day people of my generation (I am 76) do not waste things as youngsters do. Clothes had to last, sewing was important, and it was a luxury when a parcel of clothes arrived from America. Mum made gloves for everybody: Harris Tweed fronts from an ancient jacket and fur boots from an American pelt. I learned to sew out of sheer necessity. It was luxury when dad added a motor to the hold hand turned sewing machine.
We were lucky, and survived. It did wonders for our self sufficiency.

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