大象传媒

I was 6 when the War finished so I have few memories of it.
My father joined the RAF and I lived with my mother in North London for most of the War, except towards the end when we went to stay with my aunt in Wales, so that my sister could be born "Away from the bombing".

My earliest memory is that during the Blitz, my mother used to take me out into the back garden.
We'd look at the night sky, pink on the horizon, where the East End was burning.
Our next-door neighbours had a big garden and an air-raid shelter used by everyone in the street.

My grandfather was a builder and had been so impressed by photos he'd seen of the bomb damage during the Spanish Civil War, he'd noticed that the central wall between the houses was almost always left standing, unless there had been a direct hit.
Getting some curved corrugated iron he fastened it to the central wall in our front room and fixed a bunk to the wall for me, whilst my mother slept on a mattress on the floor.
For the rest of the war we didn't go down to the shelter, but stayed in our own home.
When we couldn't sleep because of the noise of the bombing, my mother would read the adventures of Orlando the Marmalade Cat, or the Uncle Remus stories of Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox.

Winston Churchill often wore a siren suit, which was an all-in-one garment zipped up the front, and made of a warm woollen fabric. You could scramble into it very quickly if an air raid started and make a quick dash for the shelter.
It was so comfy I wore mine during the day as well.

For years after the War there were 3 bomb craters in the field at the back of our garden, which filled with water very quickly.
No one ever thought of erecting fencing round them. The farmer knew where they were, and we children shouldn't have been there, anyway.
After a few weeks we were astonished to see small fish appeared in the craters. No one ever explained how they'd got there.
I was told that these craters were where the German planes had off-loaded bombs which they hadn't managed to drop on the East End docklands, to lighten their load, before returning to Germany flying at a higher altitude, to avoid our anti-aircraft guns.
One bomb did hit our street, but fell in a garden. There was minimal damage and no injuries thank goodness.

The worst aspect of rationing for me was when sweets were rationed.
We got 1/4 lb a week, which worked out at one boiled sweet a day.
I still remember how I wept when I accidentally swallowed the day's ration before it was finished. Apart from hurting my throat, it was such a waste!

My aunt who lived in Wales knew we couldn't get fresh eggs, decided to send us some from the country.
She got a tin, carefully wrapped two fresh eggs in newspaper, wrapped the tin in brown paper and tied it with string.
You can imagine my mother's reaction on opening the tin to find a slimy mess of newspaper and sodden eggs.
It was heartbreaking.

The government decreed that all small children should get a ration of orange juice and cod liver oil, which we had to take daily. I remember going with my mother to collect it each week.
The cod liver oil tasted so horrible that whenever rationing allowed I had a Glacier Mint afterwards to take the taste away.
They set up a chain of Civic Restaurants where we could get lunch there for around a shilling (5p) without using our precious rations.

Towards the end of the War, my father was posted to Yorkshire and we went with him.
We lived on the perimeter of the airfield. By this time I was old enough to be aware of the War and wanted to do my share to help with the war effort.
One of the cooks told me to turn up the following morning and she'd find a job for me.
I turned up where she took me into the kitchen. There was a long counter. She perched me on a barstool and gave me a large tin and lots of little jars each with a piece of sticking plaster bearing the name of one of the airmen on it.
My job was to fill each of the jars with sugar from the big tin, so that the airmen got their ration.
I did it every day and that was my War Work. I thought it really important

I do not recall being scared although raids occurred most nights and the guns seemed to be very close and shake the house.
We used the outdoor Anderson shelter until it flooded. We were then given an indoor Morrison shelter but gave up using it when my brother refused to join us and it was felt we should all

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