大象传媒

I was born in December 1935, so three and a half when war was declared.

My parents had bought a house in a fair middle class road in North London and apparently the neighbours had been clearly disturbed that a uniformed policeman should move in, but this changed when the air raids started. Ours became the safest house in the road and where many gathered.

Food was very short and many a time my parents went without for me.
We listened eagerly to the "wireless" each night and laughed together at the many comedy programmes and of course, to Winston Churchill.
The siren so often interrupted school lessons and we continued learning in the brick shelters. I cannot remember any panic, all seeming normal. In the absence of the "all clear", you could only go home with your mother who would often take other children home to save them staying on.

Small memories include the weekly pig man for whom you saved all food scraps, the garden given over entirely to vegetables.
Refugees bombed out from the East End were allowed to occupy very good houses where the owners had gone to the safer countryside. I loved playing with them, although my Mother thought them common.
There was a local council run canteen where we bought a meal for 6d, then went home for seconds. Whenever a rare food such as bananas appeared the neighbours told each other and there was always a rush to the shop.

The boys scavenged for shrapnel on the way to and from school.
Letters were removed from road signs to fool the Germans (if they arrived).
Certainly I recall a lot of laughter but people were much more united and we were all patriotic.
It was not all bad but I hope it was the last ever of such evil times.

In 1941 my Mother became ill and was admitted to the local hospital.
Her sister, my Aunt Rose, came to look after us.
At this time the air raids in were quite bad, almost every night we had to sleep in our shelter.
My Mother was quite strict about this, but not so my Aunt, who liked her comfort.
One night the bombing was really bad and my Father wanted us to go out into the shelter, but my Aunt said "No way".
It was just before 9 o'clock when bombs dropped on the houses in the road behind ours demolishing them.
One bomb then fell behind our shelter blowing a large hole in the garden, fortunately for us all this took most of the blast. The noise was tremendous and we were all very frightened. In a matter of moments the windows broke and the back of the house slid down, we were left with dust, dirt and a big hole.
My Aunt rushed to get out of the room promptly fainted, and blocking the doorway.
My Sister and I tried to look after her whilst my father tried to do something about all the mess.
We spent the night in the front room and very early next morning my Aunt packed her case and left.

My father took my sister and I to stay with a friend near by, with strict instructions not to tell my mother when we visited her in hospital.
We stayed there for some time, going to the local school but returning home every Saturday to shop for our rations. My mother eventually came home from hospital just before the back of the house was rebuilt.
Once this was done, my Sister and I were really glad to go back home.

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