大象传媒

I was 11 years old, living in Surrey. We didn't have an air raid shelter, and one night my brother and my mum and I were under the stairs when there was a raid. I had with me a box of liquorice allsorts and my stamp alnum - my most important possessions.
Our neighbours came over, and said they felt sorry for us and asked us if we wanted to join them in their shelter. We all went over there, and I fell asleep in the shelter. When I woke up, I found that they had eaten all my allsorts! I've remembered it to this day.

But - and this is more sinister - I also remember that they built a mortuary in the recreation ground, and we kids were always trying to look in, even when they were sweeping blood out through the door. We couldn't get enough of it! Death doesn't mean anything to children; but liquorice allsorts do.

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