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As the Blitz in London increased my father said you must go away again. This time my mother came with us and our Father slept at his station.

We stayed with one Uncle in St Ives, Cambridgeshire. He had a shop in Bridge Street and we had a room on the second floor. There was no heating or gas in the room. My job was to take the hot water basin up each night. As I reached the turn in the stairs the draught from the above made my candle throw out scary shapes on the wall. My sister was too frightened to come with me.

We visited Huntingdon Grammar School to see if they would take us in, but as my sister was sick on buses, it was decided that we would attend Slepe Hall, a local boarding school, as day pupils.

This was completely different from our own high school. We had hot milk in blue cups and saucers and slices of bread and dripping. Our year was taking Latin — we were reading it, but had no idea of the meaning.

One night we walked across the old park bridge towards the level crossing. We looked towards London and the sky was crimson. The docks were alight. We felt anxious for our father. We heard the German bombers go over on their way to bomb Coventry. We returned home as the Blitz ended. My twin left school because of her health. I would look round for her but she wasn’t there.

I had to take my ‘O’ Levels in the School’s cloakrooms — they were underground and served an air raid shelter from the doodle-bugs (V1). I was walking home using the High Road after D Day when I saw the traffic had stopped and that police motorcyclists were escorting two huge American transporters. I looked and saw that they were piled high with plain wooden coffins on their way to the docks. I have never forgotten the real meaning of war.

I left school and got a temporary job at County Hall, Westminster. One morning about 7.00 a.m. there was a loud explosion. My father and I went into the garden and saw a huge column of smoke. Rocket Warfare had started (V2).

What became of the brave new world we told about at school?

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