- Contributed byÌý
- CSV Actiondesk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Oxford
- People in story:Ìý
- Mary Baker
- Location of story:Ìý
- Burton Oak, London, Epping forest
- Background to story:Ìý
- Civilian
- Article ID:Ìý
- A7235471
- Contributed on:Ìý
- 24 November 2005
I was working as an assistant in a fashion factory when the war started. I used to have to commute from home to the West-End where my job was situated. Home was in Burton oak at that time, quite close to Edgware.
Since Burton Oak was located outside London, we were rarely air bombed. There were however occasions when the alarm sirens did go off. My family had an Anderson shelter in the back garden; we normally used to huddle together. I do not really have good memories of the shelter — it was claustrophobic at best; uncomfortable, damp, horrible and smell funny are just some of the words that I can recollect from my experiences. However the shelter was safe, and one can only be very grateful.
During the early stages of the war, I stayed on working in the west end. Subsequently, as the war progressed London became a constant target and because of this our work used to entertain some air raid warden who carried out regular checks on buildings.
Once, my work colleagues and I had to evacuate the building because an air warden had spotted an unexploded incendiary bomb on the roof. London came under constant siege, and you could visibly see the wreckages of city blocks around. A furniture place, which was on Warren Street, very close to my work place, suffered such fate. I had got to work early one morning to find Firemen spraying water from their hoses at the damaged building.
The fashion industry was not seen as work directly beneficial to the war. I eventually moved on to work in the Whipps-cross Hospital in Epping Forest. This was closer to home. I worked with people who were suffering from psychological illnesses— shell shock, anxiety disorder e.t.c. The work was a change from working in a fashion shop although the nurses had the occasional social nights organised by the hospital. The patients and work staff were also involved.
I remember one night, I had just been to a formal dance and was walking home, I realised that I could hear a loud droning noise above — my heart began to run helter skelter, but my feet remained still. I knew it was a doodlebug; a doodlebug in decline, it dropped a bit ahead of me. I was expecting an explosion but the only sound I could hear was from within me.
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