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It was a Friday night in March 1942. At that time my name was Joan Edith Marston and I lived in 7 Midgley Street, Woodhouse, Leeds 6.

I was sleeping in 16 Midgley View with my Auntie Maud and Uncle Walter. My mother and my brother Jim were sleeping in our own house round the corner at No. 7. Sirens went, as they did every night. Jim and my mother went down to sit on the cellar steps towards the air raid shelter — our cellars (which all had a connecting wall to neighbouring cellars, filled with loose bricks) had been reinforced to withstand the bombs. We could hear bombs falling and explosions. After the all-clear, we went across to Auntie Annie’s and down through the wall in the cellar to see if Jim and Mum were all right.

They were OK, but the front of the house was completely bowed out and all the furniture had to be taken out and put in the street, covered with tarpaulin, until it could be put into storage. We would have to be moved also, as we couldn’t go back into the house. We were then all shunted up to the Mission Hall higher up Woodhouse Street for the night, where we were given tea and ship’s biscuits.

The next day, we went up to Armley, to Auntie Edna and Uncle Harry’s house, taking Peter the budgie in his bent cage.
We stayed there a couple of nights, then Mum, Jim and myself went to Elsecar to stay with Auntie Gladys and her family, whilst our house was put back together. Jim and myself went to school for some time, then came back to Midgley Street when the house had been put back together.
Before we left, Peter had been very quiet — he never talked or whistled, but by the time we came back, Uncle Harry had taught it to whistle a tune and talk.

All things considered, we’d done fairly well compared to the people at No. 5, as the bomb that landed on the toilet blocks shot off to No. 5’s side, through the outside wall (the chimney and fire side of the wall). Mr. Carter was sat in front of the fire in his armchair, the floor beneath him must have given way and he ended up in the cellar, still sat in his armchair! He and his wife were both unhurt, but their house had to be pulled down, it was so badly damaged.
The gap the bomb left between my cousin and my Auntie’s Eva’s house remained — nothing was built on it and eventually, in the late 1950’s, the whole street was pulled down.

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