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My earliest memory is of being held in my father’s arms, looking out of our landing window, while he pointed out the German bombers caught in the spotlights as they tried to make their way to the Clyde shipyards.
Being in a direct line with the Clyde and living across the road from a main railway line we were subjected to constant bombing raids.

At this time my cot was permanently in the air raid shelter because the sirens went virtually every night and my mother found it easier to take up residence in the shelter than attempt to stay in the house. I recall one evening when a rather grand Aunt was visiting and as usual, we all had to repair to the air raid shelter- a bomb fell within a few yards of us and my mother in her fright grabbed Aunt’s beautiful, fur coat removing a large lump of fur (something for which she was never forgiven!)

One of my most enduring memories is of going to school at four years old with a school bag in one hand and a gas mask in the other. Interspersed with the normal three “R’s “ lessons we had gas mask drill and trips to the air raid shelter which was dank and dark and smelled foul-not conducive to learning.

Finally, I remember the celebrations on VJ day, principally because we had a day off school and were all given a letter from the King.

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