大象传媒

We had spent a very cold, uncomfortable, and noisy night in our shelter in the garden of our children's home on Parkhurst Road, New Southgate, North London. The all clear had sounded and we all struggled out into the smokey morning, over to the house to have a wash and breakfast - hot porridge and bread and butter, warm milk as well, then warm coats around us and wooley pixey hoods and knitted gloves. We also put on welly-boots over wooly socks and we were ready for anything. Old Hitler wasn't going to get us down so we sang 'Hang out your washing on the Seigfried line', loudly, as we went along the Friern Barnet Road, as we scanned the road and path for shrapnel or pieces of heavy metal from bombs exploding. We could get a point from school for bringing the metal in, and there was a special box by the school gates to put it in. Garfield Road was across the railway and we headed for the bridge, come tunnel, over the station. Everywhere was so quiet, no train sounds, no puffing of steam engines, no people rushing down the steps to the platforms, we soon found out why! The entrance was blocked by two crossed poles with a sign in the middle, "unexploded bomb - no entry".

Well, we all knew what that meant, but we had pockets full of shrapnel, and it was heavy. So we took a vote to go further down the cinder path and cross the lines by the foot bridge. We rushed down the path and climbed up the steps to the bridge. The noise as we ran over the loose boards on the bridge was deafening to us. Rattling down to the pavement, we were stopped by a ribbon barrier, which we quickly ducked under and into Garfield Road, where we dropped the shrapnel pieces through the railings of our school. A big notice declared "no school today".

Turning the corner into Station Road, we couldn't understand why our sweet shop was closed and the window broken, but something else was wrong, terribly wrong, the whole row of tall houses looked like dolls houses to be played with. Baths were hanging from top floors and beds with blankets swaying in the slight breeze, a quite dreadful scene. A small cat howled piteously as we stopped hunched over the gatepost not knowing what to do. My sister, who was the eldest, said we aught to go back the way we'd come. Oh! Trouble was heading for us, as down the road came two air raid wardens and a policeman. They were very quiet and shushed us when we tried to explain about the school and the shrapnel, we were all quite tearful as we were almost pushed up to the top road, the Friern Barnet Road, and told in no uncertain terms to go home, which we did at great speed.

Got to tell someone about our adventure!!

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