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In 1939, we lived in are area of East London called Whipps Cross. We lived in a ground-floor flat — that is my father, mother, grandmother and me.

There were rumours of a War and many people moved out of London. My father arranged for my mother, grandmother and I to go to live temporarily on a farm in Somerset — this was probably in about July or August 1939.

War was finally declared a few days before my 2nd Birthday. We stayed on in Somerset until the New Year, 1940. My parents decided that, for the time being, we would not go back to our flat but would try to find somewhere to live near my Aunt and Uncle in Northwood, Middlesex, which was on the outskirts of London. My mother was not very happy with this arrangement, as she wanted to be in her own home and said if Hitler was going to get her, she would rather it was in her own home. This was to prove all too true in the future.

At the time of the outbreak of War, we had a television set — quite a rarity in those days and also a car. Soon the car had to go as there was little petrol available but the television stayed, although there were no programmes to watch.

The Battle of Britain commenced on 15th September, 1940, just a few days before my 3rd Birthday. I had a small party for my birthday and some lovely presents.

At this time, we did not have our own shelter — there were public shelters nearby, but we did not use them.
If you look at the plan of our flat attached, you will see that there is an inner hall and this is where we used to spend the time during air-raids.

On 7th October 1940, during the night, our block of flats suffered a direct hit from a bomb. We were, as usual in the inner hall. The crater from the bomb was in our living room, right next to where we were sheltering, but the blast went outwards and apart from a tin of pineapple falling out of a top cupboard onto my grandmother’s head, we were not injured, but we were buried in the rubble. My lasting memory of that night is being dug out of the rubble by rescuers and seeing the full moon shining through what remained of the block of flats. I am still very nervous on nights when there is a full moon and avoid going out if possible.

As a result of the bomb, I lost most of my birthday presents but still have a little yellow china jug which was part of a tea set which I had been given. The television set ended up in the crater of the bomb. One man who lived in one of the upstairs flats was found sitting unharmed in his armchair in the entrance hall. He did not remember how he got there! People living nearby were very kind and took us all in for the rest of the night.

No-one in our block of flats was killed or badly injured, but people living in houses in a road nearby were killed as the blast from the bomb went their way.

The next day, we were driven to stay again with my Aunt and Uncle in Northwood. We had to pass through the dockland area of London which was a scene of utter devastation. A sugar refinery had been hit, and there was melted sugar, like liquid toffee, running down the roads and blocking the drains.

My Uncle and Aunt did not have a proper air-raid shelter, but had an extra lining of brick wall in their garage. They had a bed and chairs in there and it was fairly cosy. My Uncle, however, would never go into the shelter during a raid. He used to spend the time in his first-floor study writing a report of the day’s weather. However, one night, the gunfire got very close and he decided it would be better to be downstairs — he missed his footing on the stairs and ended up in the hall with his head stuck under a small table.
After a while, we moved to a bungalow in the same road. One rather dangerous point about this road was the fact that it bordered fields at the rear and the other side of these fields was Bomber Command where much of the Royal Air Force bombing raids of Germany were organised. This made it a German target. There were many raids where bombs and shells fell in the fields behind our houses and on one particular occasion, an Incendiary Bomb fell on the house next door. It penetrated the roof, but did not go off. This, caused the Bomb Disposal Squad to be called in and all the older children around were very excited but rather upset when we were evacuated from the area whilst the bomb was diffused.

In 1941, my father received his call-up papers and joined the Royal Horse Guards. During his war service, he served with the Comedian Tommy Cooper and also with a composed named Harry-Parr Davis. He was an amateur entertainer and often took part in concerts to entertain his fellow soldiers. My poor mother was at her wits end with my health as I seemed to manage to pick up anything that was going. During our short time in Northwood, I managed to have measles twice and whooping-cough once.

In 1942, we moved a few miles nearer London to Pinner, which was a large village with countryside nearby but also, being only about 10 miles from the centre of London, it had a number of major targets nearby, including R.A.F. Northolt and other military bases. The area suffered from a number of overshoots when it received bombing and shelling meant for these targets.

In 1942, I also started school. My parents sent me to a small private school not far from our house. The school shelter arrangements were nothing if not primitive. They consisted of an extra skin of bricks in the cloakroom and during daytime raids, we would sit in the cloakroom and have stories read to us, but strangely enough, we did not usually feel frightened. It is a strange fact, that during the war, people felt safe in the strangest places.

The school had a very strict Uniform policy and with clothing on ration, it was essential to buy clothes that would last for a long time. Hence, I would start off with a dress or gym-slip with reached half way down my calves and would wear it until it was as my grandmother used to put it ‘disgustingly short’, although in this day and age, it would probably be considered of a perfectly acceptable length.

My School was housed in a pair of ordinary houses with the living rooms serving as classrooms. Our playground was the joint back gardens of the two houses which consisted of a circular lawned area, surrounded by a pathway and we had to go out no matter what the weather and run twice round the path before we were allowed back indoors. We had one-third of a pint bottles of milk to drink at morning break and these were left outside until needed, thus in winter they were freezing cold and in summer very warm.
I remember my hatred of drinking milk which continues today. Empire Day was a very special day in the school calendar (May). We would file out into the garden and stand round the flag-pole which was in the centre of the lawn. The Headmistress would read us the Empire Day Message from the King, we would sing the National Anthem and then had the rest of the day off. We all liked Empire Day!

The School, although a bit strange by today’s standards, provided an excellent education although most of the teachers were not qualified. There was a very strict code of discipline and certainly bullying would not have been tolerated.

We had an annual Prize-Giving Service and presentation ceremony, when we would go to a nearby church which was made up of a large hall with a stage at one end of it and an altar at the other. We would start off facing the altar for the service and then have to turn our chairs round 180o for the presentations.

There were no school dinners at my school - all we had to go home for lunch. My mother gave me strict instructions that if I was walking home when the air-raid siren went and enemy planes were flying overhead, I must lay down on the pavement or grass verge until they had passed over. One time I remember the siren went off and the planes were already overhead, so I threw myself down on the pavement with rather more force that I meant to and took all the skin off my knees and elbows. I took more care in the future!
I mentioned clothes rationing — food was also rationed and it was very difficult for mothers to give their children decent birthday parties, but somehow most of my friends and I had parties which necessitated saving up coupons for weeks beforehand. I remember the biggest treat was jelly.

Sweets were also on ration and were not free of rationing until 1952. We had one shop near our school which used to have a limited number of ice-creams on Mondays at 4 p.m. You had to queue outside the shop and hope that the ices did not run out before you got to the front. It was strictly one per person. I said before that my school had strict discipline and one of the greatest sins that could be committed was to queue for an ice cream in your school uniform. I was lucky, I had an aunt who lived a few doors from the school and I used to go there and change into an old coat or an old dress before I went to join the queue.

Another major sin was to attend the annual Village Charter Fair in school uniform or in fact to be absent to go there in the afternoon. The fair was held in the High Street of the village and a lot of the showmen’s caravans were parked in the road where the school was. The Headmistress really did not like the fair and although it took place on the Wednesday after Whit-Sunday and was in the normal school half-term holiday, we had to go back on that day, so that we could not attend the fair until we had been home and changed after the end of school. The Headmistress’s brother was in the local police and took a note of the name of any pupil he found at the fair during school time and there was trouble the next day at school for anyone disobeying this very strict rule and this included the parents being called to the school and receiving a reprimand too.

I remember occasionally our local greengrocer would get hold of some oranges — he would put a sign in his shop window saying that they would be on sale at a certain time. The local jungle telegraph would be set in motion and by the time for selling came round, there would be a long queue outside the shop. I well remember my first banana just after the war — no one told me I had to skin it before I ate it!

During the War, we did not go on holiday. You couldn’t get down to the coast in many areas so people stayed at home and amused themselves. There was a touring Concert Party called Holidays at Home which used to visit local parks. It consisted of a mobile stage on which entertainers would perform. It also always had a session for locals to provide the entertainment. My mother and I used to go to these performances and on one occasion, I jumped up from my seat, got on the stage and sung a wartime song called ‘Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition’. My poor mother nearly died of embarrassment as I have never been a singer!

As I have said, we lived close to London and as the bombardment increased, it became more and more likely that we could become a target again. At first, we used to shelter each night and during daytime raids in the cupboard under the stairs, with a camp bed for my mother and I and a chair for my grandmother. Latterly, we had a Morrison Shelter put up in one of our living rooms and we used to spend our nights in there. We each wore a whistle on a string round our necks, so that if we were buried, we could blow it and be heard by rescuers.

My mother did not like being in either shelter for long periods and she and our next door neighbour would stand on the front doorsteps looking in the direction of London where they could see the gunfire through some trees. They would watch until the gunfire got near and they could see the shells exploding above the trees, then they would go into the shelters. The two of them used to stand there with saucepans on their heads, but they felt safe.

I can clearly remember hearing the shrapnel from shells falling on the metal lids of nearby dustbins — it was like a modern pop group playing.

We had a tabby cat called Bob who used to ask to go out as soon as the air-raid warning sounded and we did not see him again until just after the all-clear had finished.. We used to say he was out Fire-watching. We don’t know where he went, but he never suffered any injury.

When my father came home on leave, we usually went on a visit to London. We were not going to allow anything to spoil our enjoyment. One time, we had gone to Baker Street Station and although a raid was in progress, we got on a bus to go to Oxford Street. We sat on the top deck watching what was known as a Dog-Fight between British and German planes — A German plane was shot down and everyone on the bus cheered. When we were walking around in London, if the siren went, we would go into the nearest cinema or underground station. I saw lots of Disney cartoons on these visits and I can remember seeing people who had lost their homes actually living on the underground station platforms. Bunk beds were provided on the platforms and many hundreds of people would go down on there at night only to go back above ground in the morning to find their homes flattened by the night bombings.

I was, at this time, hooked on Ballet and took a number of exams, always in London. On one occasion, I had just started my exam when the siren went. The examiner and I went to the nearest shelter for the duration of the raid and after the all-clear, I just continued the exam from where I had left off. My other
out-of-school entertainment was Brownies.

We the advent of the V.1’s (Doodlebugs) in 1943, we no longer had the warning of imminent attack from the sirens. You would just hear the tell-tale sound of the V.1’s engine in the vicinity. My mother’s instructions, if the engine cut out were to lie on the ground and start counting. If you got as far as 11, you were O.K. as it would have exploded by 10 if it was going to get you.

More frightening, however, were the V.2’s in 1944. With these, you got no warning of their approach at all. You could see them flying in the sky if you happened to be looking in the right direction but had no idea whether or not they were going to come down in your area. One time I was home from school for lunch and was in the garden watching what I thought was an ordinary plane doing what I called sky-writing (i.e. the vapour trail) but it turned out to be a V.2 which exploded overhead. I was very frightened and rushed indoors where my mother treated my nerves with a stiff Gin ( I was only 6 or 7 at the time). I was not in a fit state to return to school that afternoon!.

During the time of the V.2’s we were rudely awoken one night by the ceilings of the house falling in and the window’s breaking. A V.2 had landed on the Cemetery Lodge just down the road. Every window in the front of the house had been blown out and all the ceilings had come down — everything was covered in glass and plaster. My mother certainly got her wish that if Hitler was going to get her, it would be in her own home. He seemed to follow us around! This was in the lead up to Christmas and one of the men who was sent to put our windows back and re-plaster the ceilings asked my mother if she would like a duck for Christmas. Poultry being hard to come by, she said yes. The following evening, he arrived on our doorstep holding a sack and saying he had brought our duck — the only trouble was that it was still alive. My mother declined to accept the duck and we had to make do with a small chicken for Christmas dinner instead.

One night, without warning, my Father came home on leave having hitched a lift. My mother heard this terrible noise in the hall and thought someone had broken in. She found my father there in his full battle kit, including large back-pack with tin helmet attached. He had caught the back-pack on the hall wall and ripped a large amount of paper off it.

In May 1944, he came home on what was to be his last leave — his embarkation leave before being sent to fight in Europe. He was a heavy truck driver and went out on D-Day plus 4, driving an ammunition lorry with back-up supplies for the troops who had gone out before him. He was injured in the arm in the relief of Arnhem when the convoy in which he was driving was shelled. He had the option of being repatriated back to England or going onto light duties in Germany. He opted to stay abroad and was sent to General Montgomery’s Headquarters at Luneburg Heath. One of his duties there was to look after Monty’s dog Heinkel who was a long-haired dachshund. He was serving at Luneburg Heath at the time of the surrender and was finally demobbed from the Army in November 1945.

I had been promised that ‘as soon as Hitler had gone’ I could have a dog, but before that my mother and I took a two week holiday in Ilfracombe, Devon for 14 days, of which 13 ½ were rainy! We travelled by train and on the way home, we were in a crowded carriage with the window open when suddenly a man sitting opposite us, tore my mother’s straw hat from her head and threw it out of the window. She was none too pleased about this, but he said he had done it because a hot cinder from the steam engine had come in the window and set her hat on fire! A couple of days after coming home, I got my dog.

When my father arrived home in November 1945, it was a time for celebration — coupons were saved up and we had a party which coincided with Guy Fawkes Day. An Uncle of mine had managed to get hold of some fireworks and we had a great time.

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