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We moved into the shelter in the autumn of 1943, because the bombs were falling day and night.
I can’t remember Christmas 1943, because I was too young, but I do remember Christmas 1944 as if it was yesterday.
My mum had a satchel like one at the back of a bicycle saddle to store tools and she attached it to a leather strap, so it would fit over my shoulder just like a handbag. In it she had put little sheets of paper folded like envelopes, and on them she had written the names and addresses of friends and family.
So I was the postman and this was my Christmas present, and I went happily around the shelter, delivering the ‘mail’. The Christmas tree sat in a flowerpot and was about 10 inches high and I loved the warm glow of the three candles, which were also homemade

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