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This story was submitted to the People’s War Site by Three Counties Action, on behalf of Betty Blake, and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

I was thirteen Years old and lived with my mother and two sisters in Kenton Middlesex. My father had died in 1943 as a result of being gassed in the 1914-1918 war. During the war years we had moved house four times due to the war.
I recall on that day in May 1945, the area around our home seemed to take on a strange feeling. Everything felt unreal, as if I was in a dream state. I walked, or rather floated round the roads, holding hands with my friend Eric. We just kept on walking but not saying very much.
One felt that you could have walked into anyone’s home, because people were leaving doors wide open, nothing seemed real anymore.
In the evening the atmosphere changed to a party spirit, I went with my mother and sisters for another excursion round the streets. We all felt that we needed to be where everyone else was — outside in the streets, celebrating.
In the street someone had erected a Morrison shelter that became a stage. Anyone who felt inclined could climb on the top and entertain. As I enjoyed singing I decided that I had a captive audience, so I gave an unaccompanied rendition of Vera Lynn’s song ‘Yours’. Everyone clapped and I felt quite pleased with my public performance. I went to bed that night tired but happy.
The next day my Uncle and Aunt took me on the train into London. Somehow we found ourselves in St James Park. The crowds were enormous but my Uncle held my hand tightly as the people surged along. Suddenly I was pulled from his grasp and found my self being lifted along without my feet on the ground. Thankfully after a few yards of sailing through the air my Uncle rescued me. I was very shaken by the experience, and to this day, I cannot bear crowds. However I would not have missed witnessing the unrestrained joy of the British people at this historical moment.

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