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Day as usual, Reg at work in Woolwich (North) delivering his milk in the dock area, putting out fires; dodging bombs and keeping his customers happy.

Home for dinner and a kip and to hear all about the dogfights overhead while he has been working.

Queuing was not for Olive. She got all the shopping in when Jerry was overhead. Dangerous but convenient.

Micky was mine until teatime unless the windows were blown in again. Having to rise early it was usually early to bed.

Owing to the activities of Jerry bed was in the lounge and upstairs was a no-go area. Micky was put in the cot covered by a large floor mat (just in case) and was usually sound asleep by 8.30pm.

It had been a bad day. Jerry was over every hour and with the sirens and a few odd bombs falling we were glad to say ‘Bless ‘em all’ and get to bed. At about 10pm things were livening up. Sirens wailing, planes overhead, anti aircraft guns blazing away in Danson Park just yards away. Air-raid wardens telling us in no uncertain terms to put our lights out. Just another night. Perfect peace!

Olive and Reg cuddled up and Micky snoring his little head off in the cot. Bang, crash and wallop, the windows were blown in and our friendly warden’s head poked through the window to check we were all right.

Reg took a quick look. Olive was OK — looked as lovely as ever. Went over to Micky’s cot. Lots of broken glass about — even sticking out of the wall. Then leaning forward noticed that the struts Micky’s cot were non existent with large pieces of glass protruding. They had saved his life. He was still asleep so cuddled up in the main bed with mum and dad. He still finds he gets a bit sleepy at 8.00pm.

Up next morning at 5.00am ready for another day’s hard graft and unforeseen adventures. Feels a bit draughty getting on my underpants and vest. Blimey, we have got no windows so I decide to get dressed in the passage but the side of the house is down. Must have been a big one and what’s that great hole in the road about 30 yards away?

Check the neighbours are all alive and kicking. Get my breakfast by pinching the last egg — no more for a fortnight. Out comes my bike and I’m ready for the off. Big kiss for our lovely lad and his mum.

Why do I have to leave ‘em in such a state? But we are still all alive and breathing.

Reg Gladwin

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