大象传媒

This story is submitted by Daniel Howarth, a volunteer, on behalf of Radio Bristol Action Desk at City of Bristol College.

I was born in Brisol on October 8th, 1934 and lived in a flat with my parents off Stapleton Road. I had twin brothers born August 1937. Unfortunately, one died of Meningitis in January 1939.
We moved to Easton Road, where we shared half a house with a family called Mr and Mrs Tim Fenton. Just before September 1939, we moved to a council house at Knowle West. I was evacuated to Barnstaple, Devon in 1940. On arrival, we went into a Church Hall and our names were called for us to meet the people we would be staying with. I was told i wasn't very big for seven years old, but i was only six and told them so.
The family i stayed with were called Mr and Mrs Loosemore, who had two grown up children, a boy and a girl. I believe that they owned a business, perhaps a carpentry/woodworking factory. I stayed in a private house with a garden, which was very different from my home in Bristol. I was expected to eat with the family at the table and was treated as more grown up than i was and was expected to behave properly.
They were very kind, lovely people but i missed my family very much.
I went to an old-fashioned church school, where i was expected to work hard and i feel this helped me with my future education as i won a scholarship at 11 years old to go to a Grammar school - Merrywood Grammar School for Girls, a brand new school at the time but no longer in existence as it burnt down.
There were two other children in Barnstaple that i knew. One was a girl called Pat Weeks, who lived next door to me in Bristol, and a boy called Dennis Stokes, who lived opposite me. I saw them occassionally.
I was included in all the family celebrations in Barnstaple, including the wedding of the daughter of the family. I returned to Bristol in 1941, after April 29th to see my new baby brother, John, who was born on that date.
When i came back to Bristol, my parents were very surprised at how much i had changed during my time away. I soon went back to my old ways. Bristol was being very badly bombed at this time, but my father felt that it would be better if i was at home, and i wanted to stay with my family. It was then back to the reality of war, as we had to fill our baths with water every night in case the mains had been bombed during the night. We had Anderson shelters in the garden, which were horrible and always full of water. My family and my neighbours family used to sit in a cupboard in the kitchen, which was under the stairs and was used as a coal shed. When the bombs were being dropped, the coal would jump around! We just got used to it as we spent many hours there. We used to draw with crayons, make paper dolls, read, our Mothers used to knit or sew or just chat. Sometime we slept - this depended on the lenght of the raid, which could go on all night. Bristol was a good target, especially Avonmouth because of the docks and the edges of Bristol, particularly the airplane factories at Filton. German bombers dumbed their remaining bombs before crossing the Bristol channel which caused a lot of damage.
The old centre of Bristol was flattened by bombers, particularly Castle Park and the Old Market area. After the war, a huge amount of rebuilding was required.
My father didn't go to war as he was in a reserved occupation. He worked at Avonmouth for the National Smelting Company, which produced zinc which was required in munitions, engines, and many other things needed in the war effort.
My neighbours husband also stayed at home, although i am not sure why - he used to sell HP sauce! He was a Fire Watcher and may have joined the Dad's Army as many men who stayed at home did.
Lots of my aunts went into factories to work, although they had never done this sort of work. But my mother, with young children, was allowed to stay at home.
We only ever experienced one war death. We used to walk to school along Novers Lane, and we heard the mothers discussing the death of a local lady who had been fired upon by a German plane. We took a morbid delight at looking at the blood stains on the wall.
Whenever the air raid sirens sounded, we had to find an air raid shelter no matter where we were. I used to bring my younger brother home from school and regularly we had to take shelter and wait until the all clear siren sounded before we could go home. It could be nine o'clock and dark before we got home. Now i cannot imagine how my mother coped with this. She must have been terrified. There were no street lights and there were lots of people leaving the shelters at the same time and walking home. I never felt any fear though - everybody took care of everybody else and helped each other.
I can remember the elation of the declaration of the end of the war. I have good memories of street parties and family celebrations. But when i think of it now, i realise that there was a lot of sorrow as well. Many families had lost loved ones and there was a lot of grief. I feel that, because we are an island race, we have a huge ability to cope with everything that is thrown at us. We did feel lucky that we weren't invaded.

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