大象传媒

I remember my dad coming home and telling my mam war had broke out and
we were going to fight the Germans. But I was too busy sorting my cigarette cards
to realise what it meant. My father did know because he had fought in the First World War. For a while nothing seemed to change, my sisters and I went to school, my father to work and my mother did her housework and took in washing, what a job that was with her poss tub, poss stick and wooden mangle.
A year and a half later dad died through illness, that鈥檚 when we started to feel the effects. Sweets and chocolate were seldom on the menu anyway, our treat was bread and dripping after a daily spoonful of cod liver oil.
A brick air raid shelter was built in the back yard back to back with next door鈥檚, an old woman living on her own, later we knocked a couple of bricks out of the adjoining wall so she felt she was not alone.
Then we had to make blackouts for the windows and criss cross the glass with sticky tape but they were blown out anyway when the bombs dropped, especially when the land mine landed at the top of our street and flattened dozens of houses. Just the air raid shelters were left standing - we were lucky but had to clear up lots of glass and the soot that fell from the chimney.
We lived in Millfield, Sunderland near the power station which Lord Haw Haw, who we listened to on our accumulator wireless set, threatened to give everyone a brick from. I had mixed feelings about this because my school was near to the big chimneys. Then came the best bit, looking for shrapnel, but not so good when coming across what we thought were body parts.
The air raid siren war scary, it meant picking up my favourite toys and running to the shelter but we could not resist looking up at the searchlights and barrage balloons. Once we even saw the shadow of a bomber on the wall of the shelter - it was German, we knew by the drone of the engine. The all clear was a relief but often we stayed in the shelter just in case.
My sister and I were evacuated to Pocklington in Yorkshire with a name tag and gas mask, it was good, just like a holiday but one of my sisters fell ill and mother decided to take us all home.
I was too young to realise the effects of rationing but I did know about standing in long queues for just about everything.
My best memories are of street parties on VE and VJ Days and welcoming home the soldiers and POWs but best of all the taste of bananas.

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