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Although we had had evacuees during the phoney war, they had all drifted home again. When the Blitz started, they were back. I remember that they were taken to a reception house where the Catholic Church now stands.
My mother went down there and she was terribly upset — she said it was a cross between a horse market and a slave auction. People were literally picking them. Mother went down with the idea of getting one or two young lads, but they’d all gone and we took in a charming lady and her daughter who’d been bombed out. All their belongings were in a cardboard case.

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