大象传媒

As told to Alan Brigham 20th September 2005

I remember as a child in the war the problems of reading during the blackout. I used to love my books but it was never easy as the light bulbs my father, fire-watcher Fred Hall, had fitted in our Marmaduke Street home gave out less light than the average candle. To make matters worse, every bulb was shielded by a circle of thick card so that what little light there was shone straight down from the bulb in a small, tight circle. Well, not to be outdone, I used to stand on my bed in my crisp white nightdress, directly under the bulb, book in hand and read every night before I finally climbed into my bed.

Imagine the screams when one evening after my father had left for his shift atop of Warehouse 13, my mother, Ginnie Hall, walked in and came face to face with a glowing ghostly figure, all in white, holding a book in the classic pose so common on ancient tombs!

I really thought I had given her a heart attack. She wasn鈥檛 quite the same for days!

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.