大象传媒

My father worked on The Times. He was a Corrector of the Press. Every place of work had their 'fire watchers', but The Times had its own Fire Brigade manned by the staff, when the working day was over. It was my father's misfortune to be on duty on the three nights that the City burnt.

He cycled to and from work, probably the easiest way to get there ay that time. He normally arrived home at 3 O'Clock in the morning, but on one morning my mother and I were waiting at the gate at 9 a.m. watching up the road, and wondering at the rain of singed paper that kept falling.

Finally my father arrived, desperately begrimed with smoke, he said he had not been able to wash as he didn't think there was a drop of water left in the entire City. he had spent the night ont he roof, the building entirely surrounded by flames, until the water had run out. He explained the rain of burnt paper was because all the book shops and publishers in Paternoster Row had caught fire and the stocks of thousands and thousands of books had been destroyed. The remnants were reaching our street, ten miles away.

This is reproduced with permission by Ipswich Museum.

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