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Now aged 5, I attended school in Canterbury from May 1941, when air raids had become an almost daily occurrence. We were under the flight path of the Luftwaffe to London and the wailing of the air raid sirens became so frequent that the population became blase about it and took no notice. Although enemy aircraft frequently flew overhead they were often bound for targets elsewhere. There were, however, some local raids, which took people by surprise because the citizens had become complacent. The authorities devised a new type of air raid siren to give warning of a local raid and the urgent need to take cover. It gave repeated short blasts, sounding like a ship's hooter and soon became known as "Tugboat Annie". The prospect of living under the constant threat from air raids may seem alarming today but in 1941 it was an every day part of life, which everyone took for granted. At the age of 5 years, I was not afraid or phased in an way. I was a war-time child and the war was part of life.

Acute food shortages resulted in a draconian rationing regime. It seemed that everything, including clothing, was rationed. Mother used to queue (queueing became a part of life - we queued for everything — if you saw a queue, you joined it just in case it led to something worth having!) at the butcher's shop in the hope of buying some offal. It was a real bonus if she was successful. My mother was a good-looking lady (I didn't appreciate this at the time) and I suspect that the butcher had a soft spot for her.

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