大象传媒

It was 1941. The doodlebugs were over London. We lived in Prince of Wales Road and the block of Council flats called Montague Tibbles was hit. Our house was opposite, so we got the blast of it. It was a land mine, if my memory serves me right. The screaming from the trapped and buried people was awful. My mother was sleeping in the same room as myself, my stepfather in the other room. The room door was jammed. My mother took her two fists and broke down the panel. Then she put her foot out to see if there was a floor. But it was gone. By this time the air raid wardens were there to help us. We crouched like animals on the floor as the bombs came screaming down. Eventually the "All Clear" sirens sounded and we walked along the glass-strewn streets, and cars and taxis took us up to the Hampstead underground tube station. As we went into the underground it was blissfully quiet. People were sleeping on the platforms. There was a first aid post in the underground, and we were given treatment. I had glass in my feet. Later I was taken to Highgate hospital where I stayed for two weeks. I was 17. My mother was a very calm lady. She made the decision that we should go to Scotland, to her people, as we had lost our home in London. We went to Glasgow, and there we stayed with Frank and Agnes, my mother's brother and sister-in-law. They put us up for a few days, and then we found a billet house in Paisley Road West. I never settled. I pined to return to London. My mother said, "If you feel the same in 6 months time, we will go back. In the meantime, try to make the best of it, and do accept the hands of friendship that are offered". But I wouldn't. I just didn't like Scotland, and I didn't like the Scots. So, true to her word, we travelled back to London six months later. During my stay in Scotland, of course I went regularly to Mass. When I arrived I had just the clothes I wore-slacks, a top and shoes. The priest, I think his name was Father McGrath, came up to me after Mass, and said I was not suitably attired for Mass, that nice girls didn't wear slacks, especially to the house of God. I told him I'd been bombed out in London, and they were the only clothes I had. He then arranged for his housekeeper to take me to Sauchie Hall Street? where I was bought a complete outfit, including a riding hat. Very smart. When we returned to London, for some reason best known to herself, my mother decided we should live in Kilburn. There we rented two furnished rooms. I obtained a post at Boots the Chemist on the Kilburn High Road, my mother of course, always worked. Daily work for the richer people. She also looked after my step-father who had a stroke. My mother never complained. Then one day I was invited to a baby's christening. There I met Charles Kensington, the man I was to marry, and have four children by. We met in the Easter, and married December 1943.

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