大象传媒

At the time of the London Blitz I was 17 and lived in Tottenham, N.London with my parents, my younger brother and my Uncle.

Every evening at about 6pm, just as the news came on the wireless, strange noises would overtake the speaker, a sound we always refered to as the bubbling brook and we would say "here we got again". We were all prepared for another night in the air-raid shelter, warm clothes and blankets, etc. Very soon the siren would sound the warning and we would all troop down the long narrow garden to the Anderson shelter, calling out greetings to neighbours doing the same. Much to my mother's distress my father couldn't join us as he was disabled and slept under the big kitchen table in the house. My uncle insisted on staying outside until there was immediate danger. He talked across the garden to our next door neighbour and they would discuss whether that plane engine was one of ours or one of theirs, other neighbours would often join in, calling across the gardens.

The barrage balloons flapped and we would hear the men say things ike "The docks are getting it again tonight, poor devils." Searchlights would sweep the skies and the guns would be firing from time to time. My mother was absolutely terrified. She could remember being caught in Zeppeling raids at about my age. She tried so hard not to show it but got into terribled muddles with the knitting she tried to do and once had a book upside down that she was pretending to read. My brother and I were young and I can't remember being frightened. Come the morning, at daybreak, the All Clear would sound and all along those long narrow gardens people would climb out of their shelters and return to their homes to have breakfast and get ready for their day, glad to have survived the night.

I worked in the City near the Bank of England and would travel by bus to Liverpool Street. Each day there were scenes of last night's tragedies. Homes destroyed with all their contents hanging from the exposed walls as we passed by. I felt I was intruding on other peoples' lives. The journey ended when we reached the network of huge hosepipes that covered the ground, a network that expanded each day and made the walk to work longer. During those weeks it all became a way of life.

This story has been entered by Terry Greenwood on behalf of Joan A Brown who has given her written permission so to do.

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