- Contributed by听
- 大象传媒 LONDON CSV ACTION DESK
- People in story:听
- lorna shames , Bessie Dann, George Dann, Isaccs Shames, Larry Remer, Annie Sharmes, Miss Roberts, My Harris
- Location of story:听
- Dalston , London E8
- Article ID:听
- A7017572
- Contributed on:听
- 16 November 2005
I was born on Christmas Eve, 1939. My mother, Annie, had a stroke after I was born and I was brought up by my Aunty and Uncle, Bessie and George Dann.
My earliest memory was waking up one night by a lot of noise in the bedroom which I shared with my Aunty and Uncle. They had both got out of their bed and rushed upstairs to my Aunty Esther, Aunty Bessie鈥檚 Sister. Apparently she had fainted. Whilst I listened to all this going on, I suddenly heard the ceiling making a cracking noise and a great lump of it fell onto the pillow where my uncle would have had his head.
I immediately dived under the bed-clothes. What seemed like ages and was only a few minutes, my Uncle George came in with a torch and shouted, 鈥淲here is she? Where鈥檚 home? 鈥. I then popped my head out from the covers. Apparently, a bomb had dropped not far away and the ceiling had fallen down from the shock waves. I remember the Barrage Balloon which could be seen at the corner of Cecilia Road and Montague Road.
I remember going to Colvestone Cresent School. My first Teacher鈥檚 name was Miss Roberts, she taught me to read. When the air-raid siren went we were ushered from the class room down under the school to a small room. There was gas light in there. The caretaker鈥檚 name was Mr Harris.
I went to school in 1944.
My father, Issac Shames, was in India/Egypt in the Second World War. He was in the Royal Medical Corps as he was a male nurse. When he came home after the war I remember him sitting at the table at my Grandparents鈥 home at 19, Princelet Street. He had a very thick brown belt on, which had loads of pockets. Out of these pockets came gold jewellery etc. which my father had bought in India. I remember my Father had a large hat on, with one side of the brim turned up.
When my uncle Larry was in Sierra Leone in the war he sent a coconut home. My uncle George cracked it open with a hammer. We had Anderson Shelter in the garden at no. 22, Cecilia Road. I hated it. There was also a Morrison Shelter in the 鈥淔ront Room鈥, I remember it had Brown blankets and I was always knocking myself on the frame.
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