大象传媒

The year is 1941
The Blitz was all around
With gapipng holes, no windows seen
Devastation to be found.

In the months prior to this
We learned to live in fear
When listening to Lord Haw Haw
And tales from men held dear.

The daily chores still had to be done
Babies washed, the family fed
Inspipte of several shortages
With driend and not boiled egg.

The sirens sent gread right through us
They gave us the signal to flee
Under beds, shelts or parapets
Wherever one happened to be.

Gas masks had to be carried
No matter when nor where
We learned to quickly slip them on
And laugh at peoples' stares.

The rationing of foodstuffs
Became a way of life.
Butter, sugar, tea and flour
Carefully measured to lessen strife.

Sweets and chocolates were unheard of
Unless we happened to know
A GI based at Warrington
With a girl friend on our row.

Each night at 6 o'clock
With sandwiches at the ready
Mum would march us to the Town Hall
To sleep on mattress', awaiting Gerry.

Dad was in the Home Guard
With guns made of wood
He was in charge of the stirrup pump
Dad's army making good.

Then early in the morning
All sights met the eyes
Buildings shattered, debris everywhere
Chaos remained for a time.

But life still had to go on.
People had to bed
Go to work; man the factories
To back up our fighting men.

We learned a lot in those days
To consider others was one
To offer help to those in need
And comfort those who mourned.

We shared what little we did have
We lived from day-to-day
We also sang and laughed a lot
Aided by Vera and Tommy Handlay

I sincerely pray we never
Experience this again
Let's hope the world has learned something
But, then again, have they?

I vividly remember the Blitz although I was only seven years old in 1941.

Mum, Dad and brother, born 1939, 14 months old and sister, born 1941, a few weeks; old and myself lived in Pickering Street, Hulme, Manchester. Life revolved around going to school, Dad working in Trafford Park as a fitter and Turner at Knowlesly Cast Metal Company, who made parts for fire engines and mum busily looking after us all.

I remember being a bridesmaid at a neighbours wedding, they were called Thredder whose daughter married a soldier. And I remember the same woman crying in the air raid shelter when the bombing was at it's heaviest, wondering if she would see her new husband ever again.

I though my Dad was the greatest - he was in charge of the stirrup pump in our street. Every so often, amidst people watching, he would practice erecting it and give a demonstration.

Because of the bombardments my sister, Monica, was born at Blackpool and I recall the coach trip to see her for the very first time.

Soon the sirens became of way of life

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