大象传媒

When war broke out, I was not quite two, so my memories are those of a child. For much of the duration, we lived in a flat in the West End of London, just behind Marble Arch. My parents were quite cool about all the bombing; we only went down into the basement when it was particularly bad. I am told that I entertained people by singing nursery rhymes and I don't remember being frightened. Indeed, I wanted to go out and see what was going on, but I was not allowed. I now realise of course that it was the East End that had the worse of it.

I wasn't aware of shortages, but wondered what a banana might taste like. I thought it was something you could see in a museum. We were all dosed with Government orange juice, which was delicious.

I was sent out of town to stay with an aunt in Sunbury on Thames from time to time, and for a summer to a farm in Lougbourgh. (it's probably all built up around there now) I was lucky in that these were the only times I was separated from my parents, unlike many other evacuees. My father was not fit to fight, but used to go out fire watching at night. His business premises were bombed three times, but there was a compensation scheme to help him start up again in a new place.

Finally when the doodle bugs came, we decamped to Hove until the end of the war. I remember one flying over Hyde Park, and everybody running off in all directions. As the motor was still running, there was no real danger, and my mother who was no great runner, just carried on regardless.

In 1945, I had measles on VE Day and mumps on VJ Day, so my poor parents couldn't go up town to celebrate.

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