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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by CSV/ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Radio Nottingham on behalf of Linda Price with her permission. The Author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

I was born in Colindale, London in February 1940 and spent the first 5 years of my life sleeping in a wooden crate down a hole in the ground, that is, the Anderson Shelter in my own back garden. My earliest memory is lying in my wooden crate watching my Mum killing beetles with my black patent shoes.

My Grannie lived with my Mum & Dad and me but she never once came down the shelter with us. She said: “If Hitler is going to get me it will be in my own bed — not in a hole in the ground�

At the end of our Road was the Hendon Aerodrome, base for many Airmen, so we had air raids nearly every night as the Germans tried to hit the air base, many houses around us were destroyed. One night there was an awful raid - at the time I was too young to realise what a terrible thing it was. It was early on a Sunday evening we hadn’t yet gone down the shelter for the night, the siren went off and we ran. We hadn’t been down there very long when there was the biggest bang I’ve ever heard, the ground shook, the windows rattled then silence.

When the all clear sounded Mum ran down our drive with me following and everyone was in the street. Then an air raid Warden came running down the street shouting. Everyone was hugging and crying, I was very frightened. I later learnt that a bomb had hit a train pulling into Colindale Station; bringing all the young men back from weekend leave.

Their bodies were hanging from the trees in the park, alongside the railway. Years later I couldn’t walk through that park without looking up into the trees, my imagination running wild.

Another day, lorries pulled into our road and all the women came out with spare pots and pans and threw them onto the lorries — they also took the iron gates and railings from our gardens. I couldn’t understand how a saucepan could help the war, I thought they were for the soldiers to cook their dinners then I later realised why — they were melted down to use the metal.

One day, Mum and I had been to our daily visit to the shops, trying to get some food; this particular day we were half way home when the air raid warning went off. My Mum panicked and started running, a man came running out of a house and picked up my pushchair with me in it and rushed into his shelter — Mum following. We stayed until the all clear then Mum calmly pushed me home. We later found out that street not far away had been flattened.

A lot of my earliest memories were of sitting with my Gran listening to the wireless for hours on end, she wanted to know everything that was happening in the war and one day came upon the announcement that was to change my life completely.

I could sleep in a bed, yes, the war was over!

Everyone poured into the street, there was crying, singing, dancing, even grown men were sobbing. On V.E. day we partied in the streets all day and all night, there were thousands of people on the rooftops, swinging from lampposts, not an inch of space without a person on it.

The local pub — the Kings Arms — gave away all its food and drink, during the evening my Mum and I went home to take some bottles of Stout to my Gran, who at 85 years old was unable to party with us. As we reached our front garden my Mum was sick. I was scared — I’d never seen her ill before, she said it was the cucumber in the sandwiches that had upset her. Years later she told me that it was the drink she’d had!

My strongest memory of that night was one that stayed with me for years after. It was a man who had dressed up in his wife’s clothes, he really frightened me. He looked like a lady but had the face and voice of a man. I called him Man-Woman for YEARS after that. If we met him in the street I would hide behind my Mum.

The end of the war also meant that I had my first encounter with a banana — and I didn’t know what to do with it. I soon learned and have loved them ever since!

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