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When I was about four years old in 1942/43 our house on the borders of Blackheath and Charlton had a direct hit. I was in bed with my mother and father in the front room. I think it was called a Morrison shelter. It was not in the garden it was just a double bed on the floor of the downstairs front room with chicken wire at the back, front and sides and something like corrugated iron on top (at least this is my impression as a very young child). I remember the sound of a plane and a very big bang. I screamed and my father jumped out of bed and tried to get out of the front door, but it was jammed shut. We all got out of the window and went to the local primary school. Thinking back, the organisation was impressive. We all knew where to go and there was no panic. We stayed the night in bunk beds at the school and some time later (I have no idea how long, to my child's mind it seemed like the next day but it must have taken longer than that to organise) my mother and I went on a train to be evacuated to a safer place. My father remained in London as he was in he AFS. (Auxiliary Fire Service). After a journey of about 24 hours my mother and I arrived at what seemed to me to be a stately home. It was a big house and each mother and child, or children, had a sort of bed-sitting room and all shared a very large kitchen with a big table in the centre and gas-stoves ranged around the edges. I don't know where this was, it could have been the town of Windermere or one of the areas situated around the lake, I would love to know exactly where it was. I went to school there so must have been 4-5 at the time, I remember writing on a blackboard with chalk. One morning my mother got out of bed and fell to the floor, I went out of our room and saw the housekeeper opening the big front door, I told her my mummy had fallen down. My mother was taken to hospital with what was later diagnosed as a stroke. I went to stay in another room with another family until something could be arranged. I went to a sort of children's home and later my uncle and aunt came from north kent to collect me and I stayed with them until my father could make arrangements for me. What is so impressive thinking back is that without such things as social workers, NHS or other agencies both my mother and I were looked after so well. After the war our house was re-built and we carried on with our lives. What I would really like to know is - where was I staying, in that lovely big house - or was it not really so big after all and it just played such a big part in my imagination. I think it was requisitioned from a family who had property. Is there any way I can find out?

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