大象传媒

I was five years old when the war started.

With the years exact dates I can't recall but memories are still vivid.

The family lived in a large house in Calthorpe Street off the Gray's Inn Road, Holborn. I was one of eight children, my eldest sister had to join the WAAF's whilst my oldest brother joined the Royal Marines.

I recall the blackouts and the fact that we would have to constantly run to the Anderson shelter when the dreaded air raid siren went, to this day I hate that sound. Many a time mother would rouse us from our beds and make us run to the shelter. The shelter was crammed but our parents would get singing and playing I Spy to try and take our minds off the dreadful noise of the AA guns and planes in the skies along with the searchlights. There were many times when the skies were bright red as if the whole of London was burning.

I went Clerkenwell Road school and on the way each day I could see the damage done by the bombing. We were never sure where school would be. Eventually when the bombing was so fierce, school was moved to St Albans school not far from Leather Lane. My memories of that school was that very few lessons were held, and that most of our time was spent watching cartoons such as Popeye, Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and so many more that in adult life I never watch cartoons.

Things got rather dangerous and it was no longer safe for us to go to the shelter, and we had to find a safer place. This was Russel Square tube station. We would walk every evening, complete with bundles of blankets on our head. Once in the tube station, mum and dad got us a place to sleep. Being young, we went to the walkways of the station where the bunk beds were erected. The noise of the trains and the wind that whistled through grids, from which you could look down on to the platforms, made it a little unpleasant and it was quite cold. Oddly enough, it was a happy atmosphere. I can recall the Canadian Red Cross looking after us kids very well with their sweets.

I'll always remember a rather merry soldier singing "You're nobody's sweetheart now". Sometimes on the way home, which was quite a long way for a young child, we would stop to pich up bits of shrapnel.

The raids got worse, adn we had the dreaded Doodlebugs. Our house was similar in looks to No 10 Downing Street, and we had a basement where my dad took the heavy wooden kitchen table. When the raids took place, we would all get under this table. We were so scared. One particular time, Dad had the gramaphone playing. It was Gracie Fields singing the song "Isle of Capri". Strangely enough, years later I got married to a wonderful person from Capri. When this particular raid started, it was a real heavy one. The Doodlebug could be heard, and then the noise stopped. I screamed ""Mummy, mummy, we are going to die", but somewhere else took the hit.

This was enough for my parents and, I think through their own means, they arranged to send my sisters and I away to Scotland. I think the year was 1943, and I was aged 8. I remember it was a long way for three children to travel, by train to Kirkcaldy, Fife, but the charities would pop by from time to time with their tin of butterscotch. When we arrived in Kirckaldy there was a police cordon. A kindly poice officer asked me if I could recognise anyone. I pointed to an old lady and said "That's my granma". He asked how I could be sure, and I told him that she had big blue eyes just like my mother.

The Lord Mayor of London sent us a coat, dress and sandals because we hadn't any shoes to go to school with. My two brothers they had sent to Truro, Cornwall. My big sister took them down and returned to London a week before Smithfield Market took a big blow.

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