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My on war years were uneventful in Colwyn Bay, North Wales.

I went to grammar school with London evacuees, and we had Liverpool people who had been bombed out staying with us.

My husband lived in Enfield. He had just arrived home from school one day when the siren went.

His mother was at the local co-operative store queuing like many others for rations — his father at work.

His grandmother, a very large lady, lived with them.

He was guiding his grandmother down the long garden path to the shelter, when a large bomber suddenly appeared from the cloud, quite low.

They saw the bomb doors open and two bombs dropping.

Grandmother froze and my husband had a dreadful time trying to get her into the shelter.

Fortunately for them, the bombs dropped a short distance away and they were safe.

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