大象传媒

I was born on 9/12/1933 at City Road Hospital, London and named Thomas Peter Sandford,the first child of my parents, Thomas Frederick, a cabinet-maker, running his own business in London, and my mother, Ellen Jane, a graduate from The Blue Coat School, London, working for the East India Company.Their address at the time was 13 Penn Street, Hoxteth where my brother, Nicholas John was born, followed by my sister Josephine Jane born September 1937. We were a happy family, looked after by a lady friend of the family.Mum and Dad were hard workers and both needed to work to be financially secure.On September 3rd. 1939, now living at 125 Culford RD., Dalston, Shoreditch, our family amongst thousands of others had our lives turned up-side down - War had broken out. All children from London were evacuated. I remember, at the time, being on a railway station platform standing with lots of other children, separated from my family - very frightened, and crying, when a lady came up and gave me a glass of milk. I remember being put on a train with other children. We all had name cards hanging around our necks, and we were given cardboard boxes containing gas masks. There was a fear of gas bomb attacks. We were also given a some sandwiches and a tin of sardines. A strange lunch pack!
We eventually ended up at Bromsgrove, near Birmingham where I lived with an elderly lady, but I cannot remember her name. She had an elderly lodger who used to make me clean his shoes every day. I say 'make me' because that is how I remember it being, and I hated doing it. But I was rewarded with home-made butterscotch which she kept in a large jar. A special treat for a five-year-old during war time!
During my time in Bromsgrove I remember helping the local farmer- a friend of the lady who looked after me - and he took me out each day on his pony and trap, delivering milk. I would collect all the milk bottles and jugs from the door-steps, and the farmer filled them by ladling the milk from the churns at the back of his cart. Something that would be frowned upon these days, but there were no reports of health problems then. I have vivid memories of seeing Birmingham ,at night during a bombing raid, all lit up with a bright red glow and of hearing the noise of guns and bombs during the raids on the city. I wondered why we were evacuated so near to the bombing! Whatever, my stay in Bromsgrove lasted about a year.
My parents were concerned about me and eventually came and collected me and take me back to London along with my brother and sister. I cannot remember where they were placed but I think it was in the same area.We were all united as one family again. It was lovely to be back with my parents. However peace did not last for long.
The Blitz started soon after our return to London. Many nights and days were spent in Anderson Shelters. I remember one day, whilst out with my father, an air-raid started. We were approaching a large Georgian house and we sheltered in the doorway. I was frightened, clinging to my father who was knocking, frantically on the door. We were ushered into a cellar where we remained until the 'All Clear' sounded. These people most likely saved our lives because when we came out, the doorway we had sheltered in had been blown in by the blast of a nearby bomb.A lucky escape!
My brother and I often used to go out after the raids with our wheelbarrow to collect pieces of shrapnel, of all shapes and sizes. We wre fascinated by this,not realising the seriosness of the war. On one occasion I was hit by a piece of shrapnel, leaving a permanent scar on my right hand.
Our family mamanged to survive most of the Blitz until one day , after being out we returned home to find our road closed. A landmine had landed, severly damaging most of the houses in Colyford Road, including our house. We had been bombed out- another lucky escape for our family. We were re-housed in an upstairs flat overlooking Grundy Park, Cheshunt, Herts.The war continued for another three years. The usual rush to the shelters every time a siren went, had become the norm for most family lives. You would return to your home, thankful that you had escaped another raid. I remember one air raid , I thought; 'Not another sleepless night'. I hated the night raids, as I did not like the shelters, so I ran off, causing my parents an hour-long scare as the searched for me. I was found in a shed nearby, but I never did it again.On another occasion the siren went and we were taken to the cellars below the nearby council offices. This time, on our return to the flat there was good news and bad. The bad news - a doodlebug blew up in the nearby park blowing the roof off our flat and a number of timber beams were lying on the bed where my parents slept. The good news- my parents were not in the flat. Another lucky escape!
Once again we were re-housed this time to a sem-detached in Carlton Road, Turnford, Cheshunt. Now we had a Morrison Shelter built in the lounge.(A Morrison shelter comprised of a metal table supported on metal legs surrounded with wire mesh. A bed was made inside, big enough to take all the family during a raid. The idea was that if a bomb exploded nearby, causing the roof to collapse it would, hopefully, protect you) This as the first time in four years we did not have to run anywhere for shelter during an air raid.
During the first part of the war when living in London, my father was an A.R.P. Warden and later in the Home Guard. He was excused military service because of his skilled trade as a pattern maker. He spent the last few years of the war working at Hawker Sidley where he was involved in building the Mosquito which was made entirely from plywood.
All my family survived the war, but tragedy struck when my brother, when aged 22 died in a tragedic accident whilst serving as an officer in the Merchant Navy. My mother never really got over this and died of cancer at the age of 51. My father never re-married, dying suddenly aged 60.
I became a civil engineer, eventually starting my own business, building hundreds of houses in the Hertfordshire area before becoming a land developer. My personal life has suffered over these years, but I did produce three lovely children, one daughter and two sons. I am now retired and living a settled life in Devon, and have just celebrated my 70th. birthday. My sister, now 65 lives in Bury St. Edmonds. We keep in touch and have many chats about the memories we share. We appreciate we wre luckier than many families who wre completely wiped out during the war. I hope we never have to go to war again. I fear for my grandchildren. Peace in this world is what I pray, one day, there will be.

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