大象传媒

On September 1st 1939 the whole Blunden family was at Wellingborough and I can remember Aunt Fanny announcing to all and sundry that "the war has begun - Hitler has started bombing". I don't remember the famous Chamberlain broadcast but I think when it occurred we were at Northampton.

We were both evacuated to Diss before Christmas 1939. Mavis went to a family called Barwell or Bardwell, who were very well off, and I went to a family called Simpkin. It was a school evacuation for the whole of Croyland Road School.

I returned home for Christmas and Mavis stayed at the Bardwell鈥檚. I know that Mavis wasn't there for Christmas because I remember Mum bursting into tears at Christmas lunch.

We all went to see the Wizard of Oz at the Alcazar cinema during the blitz in 1940 and a week later it was flattened by a bomb.

We shared an Anderson shelter with our next-door neighbours the Eshmeades until we got our own Morrison indoor shelter in about 1941.

In spring 1942 I was walking home from school; the day was overcast, and the air-raid warning sounded. I continued to walk home instead of trying to find shelter and heard an aircraft above the clouds which opened fire. I heard insect-like noises like a buzzing bee and realised they were bullets and reacted accordingly - in other words I threw myself flat on the ground. I then walked home after the aircraft had gone; Mum was waiting at the front gate and I consequently got the reputation of a hero because I walked home through the machine-gunning. I never told the truth.

Quite often we slept as a family under the stairs, because the Andreson shelter wasn't available, and my most vivid memory is the sheer noise. We had a mobile anti-aircraft gun quite close and we used to try and distinguish the gunfire from exploding bombs. I can remember vividly the sound of the bombs coming down, and horrible whistling noise.

I can remember standing in the back garden after we had got used to the bombing and seeing a German aircraft caught in searchlights with anti-aircraft shells bursting all around.

The same sort of thing occurred when the whole family stayed for a time at Polesworth and we could see the battle going on over Coventry. Dad was there for a while, but didn't stay all the time, and while he was there he tried to get into the RAF but, of course, was turned down because of his leg. During the war because of Truscott's being bombed out during the blitz, Dad worked at the British Electrical Resistance Company at Ponders End, known as BERCO. Quite often Mavis and I during the bombing, because Mum was working during the school holidays, used to catch a bus and meet Dad for lunch in the BERCO canteen.

I remember a gigantic fire caused by the bombing at Angel Road, Edmonton, and that fire completely filled the night sky to the north. I can remember as well the flares dropped by the German bombers and I am sure, although Mum didn't believe it, that I saw a strip of bombs in the light of the flares from the fire come down near Angel Road.

I can remember the Fire Watch Committee for Chichester Road, of which Mum and Dad were members, and going to meetings of the committee because we couldn't be left at home. Meetings were held at the Walker house at the other end of Chichester Road and I can remember laughing myself sick because the son of the house was called Chris Walker and during a committee meeting there was a knock at the front door and Chris, the son of the house, who was about 16, said "here's Hitler", and of course it wasn't.

The Morrison shelter was installed in about 1941. All four of us used to sleep under it during the bombing. After a time we got used to the bombing and only used the Morrison when we thought it was necessary, that is to say when we could hear the bombs coming down and, of course, at the approach of the V1s. I can remember having dinner one Sunday evening with Uncle Charlie and the air-raid warning sounded, and suddenly Uncle Charlie wasn't there. He was under the Morrison shelter right at the other end, close to the wall. I didn't see him move, he was so quick. The Blundens just continued with their meal and Uncle Charlie eventually came out and had his cold.

The worst experience with flying bombs was when we heard an air-raid warning and ignored it and at that stage of the war one always did, and then we heard the characteristic sound of a flying bomb which got closer and closer and closer, and we still continued eating with our ears cocked and then the thing got very close indeed and cut out almost overhead. We dived into the shelter and the bomb exploded about 200 yards away.

I can remember the V2s and the morning with Mum when we heard two or three V2s coming down, one of which I think must have been the one that caused Aunt Margaret to go into premature labour.

As well as being evacuated to Diss we also spent some time at Didcot with our Grandparents, but most of the war was spent at Edmonton. We also spent some time at Northampton with relatives but not very long. I regarded it more or less as a family visit.

I can remember the family queuing for oranges for two days - I remember I queued for one day, then I was relieved by Mum, who I think stayed all night, then Mavis queued for the second day, Dad for the next night and after 48 hours in the queue we got two oranges. Mavis and I had never seen oranges before, as far as we could remember, and we didn't know what to do with them. It was probably 1943/44.

The rations were adequate and in fact it is thought that one of the reasons for the good health of the population was the enforced diet. I can remember dried eggs, from which Mum used to make omelettes, which I thought were very nice. I remember National Butter for which the ration for a family of four was, I think, one quarter of a pound a week, and we used to eat it all on Sunday evenings. Dad used to go through a great ritual of dividing the butter into four equal parts, and we either spread it out over several slices of bread or had it all in one big hit. I always had it in one big hit - Mavis always tried to spread it out.

I remember Lyons Slams, which were a chocolate coated wafer which we used to store up for Christmas, and again we thought they were very, very nice indeed. We always seemed to eat fairly well, although I hate to think how much of our parent's rations were given to us. The meat ration was small but there was a shop in Fore Street, Edmonton, called Giles, who used to make delicious sausages. The family treat was Giles sausages, which he usually had about once a week. Their meat content was virtually zero but they were beautiful sausages.

As far as entertainment was concerned the primary mediums were the cinema and radio. I have vivid memories of ITMA and other comedy programmes like "Happidrome", "Variety Bandbox", and "In Town Tonight" and every night we listened avidly to the Nine O鈥檆lock News, usually read by Stuart Hibberd, Bruce Belfrage, Frank Phillips or Alvar Lidell. My biggest memory as far as radio programmes are concerned is ITMA.

The winter of 1940/41 was very, very cold. We had an outside coalshed and one morning I discovered a big black and white dog in the shed who was absolutely ferocious. Dad had to get him out of the coal shed and push him down the garden with a garden rake and he pushed him out of the back gate and we though that was it. About three days later he was there again but this time we didn't discover him until he scratched the back door. Mavis and I gave Jock some cakes - Mum was not there.

That evening I was walking home from school and saw the dog on the opposite side of the road. I don't know why but I called out "Jock" and he followed me home. I let myself in, Mavis came home and Mum came home and they were greeted by the dog who was now called Jock. Dad came home later and the first thing he saw was this great dog peering round the corner of the door into the front room.

We fed him and we kept him and a few days later Dad went to the police and spoke to them about Jock and the police reckoned that he had been bombed out and had been living rough for quite a long time. We kept him until 1948 when he simply got old - he lost the use of his forelegs and was put to sleep after we moved to Dartford. We had no idea of his age, but though he was about four or five when we got him.

Jock was an absolute pig of a dog and was ferocious with everybody apart from us. He stole our meat ration one Sunday lunchtime; Mum had cooked the Sunday roast and left it on the kitchen table. She then left the kitchen and when we went to eat our lunch the joint had disappeared totally, and Jock was sitting on his mat looking both guilty and self-satisfied.

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