大象传媒

I was born in East Ham in April 1940 at the home of my grandmother, and although my parents at that time lived in Essex, my mother and I often stayed with my dear Nan, while my father was serving with the London Fire Brigade. One of my earliest memories, when I was probably about two years old, was of a night time bomb raid in East Ham. My mother came to wake me and was wrapping me in the huge pink eiderdown from the bed, as a bright blue flash lit the room, a loud and heavy thud shook the whole house and the curtains billowed in and then were sucked back into the window frame with slivers of glass cut into them. My mother carried me outside and into the street to the air raid shelter which I think was under the nearby church. I can remember seeing the air raid wardens, wearing black helmets with large white 'W' painted on the front, helping people to find somewhere to sit with their hastily gathered belongings, children and babies being comforted. I don't remember feeling frightened, as long as Mum and Nan were there, everything was alright, but the damp smell, and darkness with people whispering were feelings that stayed with me for many years. My mother told me that when the raid was over and we were allowed to return to our homes, the thing that most upset my Grandmother was to find that the metal door of her meatsafe, which stood in the garden near the back door, had been blown off by the force of the bomb and the Sunday joint was nowhere to be seen ! That was until the dreadful news came that most of the houses in the road behind ours, had been hit and many people had lost their lives.

When I was a little older my mother and I returned to our home in Essex, safer than being in London, and I can remember seeing my father looking very smart in his fire service uniform. He was on duty for many of the really bad raids on London, and was returning from Coventry, where he and his crew had been sent to help, when they saw a huge red glow in the sky over London. Apparently it was a fire in the Tate and Lyle sugar warehouse near the East London docks - no time for a rest, they carried straight on firefighting. Many years later my father told me of the very tragic scenes he had witnessed and of how hard everyone worked to help one another - sharing what little they had left after the fires and bombs had destroyed their homes. Despite the danger he had often been in, we were very lucky to have Dad back home with us after the war - safe and sound.

I think that what has stayed with me for the rest of my life, has been the strength of character, 'getting on with the day' and optimism shown by people like my parents, in what must have been very frightening times. Apparently my mother still took me out in my pram for a walk each day, and bath time was not missed, even if I had to sleep in the carrycot under the dining room table afterwards because of the air raids and I can still see Dad being asked to leave the Anderson shelter in our back garden, where we had spent the night with German bombers flying overhead, to empty the teapot into the outside drain ! and Mum and Dad standing at the doorway of the shelter in the morning sunshine, calling across to neighbours - "Are you all O.K. - bad night wasn't it - let's put the kettle on".

It was a long time before I could believe that the huge silver barrage balloons seen floating in the sky, were not filled with German soldiers waiting to land and fight us, and to this day the smell of damp earth and to hear people whispering - and I'm back in the shelter, with people huddled together, sipping tea from enamel mugs.

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