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Whenever I hear the sound of an air raid siren in films or on the television my heart stops and I am transported back to a day in 1949.

After the war the local pits bought the air raid warning sirens. One day, at playtime our primary school was brought to a standstill when the siren wailed. We all knew what that meant - an accident in the colliery.

You could have heard a pin drop on that playground. Even at eight years old we all knew what that meant. The dads of almost all the children in the class worked in the mine.

That day we went home early, but most of my friends went straight to the pit head with their mothers. All night they waited for news. Some were lucky and their dads came up alive. A few were not so lucky.

It has always stayed with me and the noise of an air raid siren still makes my blood run cold.