大象传媒

Although less than a year old when the Second War commenced, I can recall various instances that occurred, although my home was at Fishponds a district away from the central and targeted area of Bristol.

Naturally my age precluded me from any form of evacuation. However,like others of similar age I received the gas mask designed for toddlers and nicknamed a Mickey Mouse. I was also entitled to the Ministry of Food bottles of concentrated orange juice and cod liver oil. Both of which collected from the local clinic at Speedwell. The orange juice was unsweetened, but the nearest to the real thing until after the war.

The campaign against waste encouraged the use of a pig bin,(the contents collected regularly), the saving of water and digging for victory. I remember watching through the front room window as our garden railings were removed for salvage. Also taking used metal tooth paste tubes to Maggs in Queens Road and receiving a simple wooden toy tank in exchange. And, although our circa 1936 house had a bathroom, children were bathed in the tin bath; normally ours was hung on the back of the coalhouse door. Painful experience taught me to keep away from the side nearest the fire. There was a strong smell of Lifeboy carbolic.

I remember being carried across Bristol Bridge by my mother soon after the first major air raid on Bristol in late November 1940. We passed the still smoldering ruins of Mary le Port Street as we walked down High street by now partially open but fire hoses still in place. Our destination was the far end Redcliffe Street and the cafe owned by the Tate's who friend's of my parents. As this would take us past the ruined stables owned by George's the Bristol Brewery and the decaying bodies of those horses, my Mother, picked me up and ran getting away from the smell. I could recall being carried but it was many years later that she told me why.

We were without public air-raid shelters close by, leaving us with one of two alternatives when the sirens sounded. The Anderson shelter at the top of the garden, always damp and inclined to flood, or under the stairs. The latter become somewhat of a tight fit after Mother took in her cousin and son, bombed out at St. George. Eveline her cousin was a large lady.

Being carried to the Anderson shelter one night, apart from the search lights, I remember, seeing a plane in flames going down towards Stapleton. This would have been the raider that crashed in that area during, I believe in 1941. The bodies of the German crew are buried at Greenbank cemetery.

Apart from sirens, searchlights, barrage balloons, the sound of anti-aircraft fire from the guns at Purdown, one of my lasting memories must be being admitted at the age of six to Cossham Hospital for the removal of a throat abscess caused by untreated school milk.

The Children's ward being full, I was admitted to the Mens' Ward. Mr. Britton, a patient from Bridgeyate outside Bristol, managed to obtain paper and crayons, encouraging me to draw. Soon I had covered the paper in red and yellow with black dots. Explaining that this was Bristol on fire and that the black dots being bombs. How sad.

On a lighter note, after my operation, I was encouraged to be useful about the ward by collecting the 'goose neck' bottles from the men. This act of service led me to being told off by Matron. There were rules that such items even when empty were to be covered with a cloth both before and after depositing the contents in the toilets at the other end of the ward.

Before my father was posted overseas, we often travelled by train to various parts of the country to see him. At Temple Meads station we would join the queue for tea and toast or a cup of that still well known chicory and coffee essence Camp. The train corridors, always crowded with servicemen, were lit with blue light bulbs. Stoppages often occurred on route causing great anxiety, but for what reason I was too young to realize. Later I learnt how my father had been caught in a locked train carriage coming into Bristol during an air-raid and with others, had resorted to lowering one of the corridor windows and climbing out to escape injury or worse.

Ration books were collected from the local Co-op Hall. Tanner's the grocer supplied us with our entitlement that included both marge (margarine)and egg powder. Johnson's, the greengrocer shop below, had a strange hand shaped advertisement on the door. Something from pre-war days and unrecognizable to me. A hand of bananas! Other such puzzling signs included those for Lyon's ice cream and at the bottom of Lodge Causeway a row of empty cigarette vending machines. Another shop keeper, Mr. Skuse, with a contact at the docks, was able sell children locust. These sweet beans were imported into Bristol as an ingredient in the manufacture of cattle cake.

My final memory of Blitz was that of August 1942. My uncle arrived at Broad Weir soon after the bomb dropped and witnessed the devastation. Several buses had been destroyed carrying school children. Rather than returning to Hanham, he came to us and there broke down.

Our local V E street party was held in Mendip View, Lodge Causeway. The mum's being organized beforehand by Mrs. Brown who kept what became known as the Cockle Shop opposite Chester Park School. Long trestle tables filled with sandwiches, cake and home made lemonade in large glass jugs.

Shortly afterwards Sunday School outings to Weston recommenced from our local church of St. John's.

As a Tour Guide since 1981, 1 regret not to having experienced the sights and sounds of my city prior to 1939. Fortunately I have photographs together with the memories of those older than myself.

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