- Contributed by听
- threecountiesaction
- People in story:听
- Lillian Ricketts (nee Stamp)
- Location of story:听
- London
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A5545145
- Contributed on:听
- 06 September 2005
MONDAY MORNING, LONDON, SEPTEMBER 1940
This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site John Hughes from Three Counties Action on behalf of Lillian Ricketts (nee Stamp) and has been added to the site with her permission. She fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.
I was eighteen years old and working as a dressmaker in Newgate Street, in the City. Our family lived just off the New Kent Road, south of the River Thames. The war hadn鈥檛 really touched our lives very much then, although things were in short supply, men had gone into the services and there were frequent air raid warnings from the sirens. We mostly ignored these until one day, a bus got a direct hit near the Old Bailey. Many people were killed or injured and ever since then, we always went into the shelters on hearing the warning.
One weekend in September 1940, things changed forever when the London Blitz started. On this Saturday, we knew that things were very bad. To get to work, I used to catch the number 4 bus from the Bricklayers Arms to Aldersgate Street. It was a fine day on the Monday morning, but there were no buses going to the City. I set off to walk to work, but when I got to Blackfriars Bridge, every building on the North side of the river was burning. Familiar places, like Nicholson鈥檚 department store, had gone; floors were falling through other buildings, including the Mount Pleasant post office. Flames and smoke filled the sky. The air was thick with the smell and noise of burning. Hoses were everywhere as the fire fighters slaved to control the biggest fire in London since 1666. The tide was out and the low level of water in the river made their job even more difficult. My place of work was up Ludgate Hill, towards Cheapside. I asked a policeman 鈥淲hat鈥檚 it like on the left hand side?鈥 He said, 鈥淵ou鈥檒l never work there again鈥. He was right. I had no choice but to go back home, now unemployed. I later got a job as a dressmaker in a private house.
Saturday nights were always the worst for air raids. They seemed to be heavier and longer lasting than at other times.
漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.