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My parents had not finished work on the "Anderson Shelter " in the back garden, so they had an agreement with the next-door neighbours : they could use their shelter whenever the sirens 'went' ( strange choice of word - but that's how people described the awful up and down wailing ) Teeside was not only a "popular " target in its own right - but also the last chance for returning Luftwaffe crews to jettison any bombs left over from raid on Glasgow or Belfast before crossing the North Sea. The sirens went one night : my parents grabbed blankets, 'Thermos' and hot water bottles and crept down the side path of No 9. They had just made the shelter when the owner ( a butcher,who was apparently required to take the tools of his trade home with him ) charged out of the back door,cleaver in hand,intent on taking on the "two Jerry parachutists" who'd just landed in his garden. Family history does not relate whether drink was implicated.
Postscript : when our shelter was finished, my father tried to prettify it by disguising it as a rockery..the sight of the stones in the earth covering the roof was not to the liking of the ARP warden who commented : " there won't be a window left in the neighbour if a bomb hits that lot" He seemed surprisingly unconcerned by the possible fate of any of the shelter's inhabitants.

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