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In 1939 I was almost eight and lived with my parents in a flat over the offices of a swimming pool. When the war started there were lots of changes. All our widows had to have sticky brown tape on them to stop flying glass if there was an air raid. They were sash windows with twelve panes of glass, each of which had to have a cross from each corner. Then my mum made black linings for the curtains for most widows and the rest had black blinds. Every one was very fussy that no cracks of light could be seen through the curtains and we all went outside when it was dark to check. The smart iron railings and huge iron gates were taken away to be used for the war effort and this resulted in our garden becoming full of stray dogs until the hedge thickened.

Rationing had a profound effect on all of us. It applied to so many goods When we heard that food rationing was to start we filled a tin trunk with tins of spam, sardines, fruit and packets of none perishable food etc. We also filled a bucket with eggs in isinglass to preserve them. These were put away, only to be used in case of emergency. We were never hungry, meals were plain and simple but nothing was wasted, we were encouraged to finish everything on our plates or it always turned up again as ‘leftovers’. The habit became ingrained and I still feel the need to do the same today! Wednesday lunch time was always scrambled re-constituted egg and chips and my uncle, who was in the army, often seemed to arrive just in time for ‘his favourite egg and chips. Meat and potato pie, with very little meat, was another favourite and we had rabbit more often which I hated because of all the small bones. Cheese was horrid, rock hard and tasted just like bars of soap. My parents both gave up taking sugar in their tea but insisted that I must still have it as I was growing but I stopped taking it as soon as they would let me. When sweets were rationed we sometimes used to make our own sweets using dried milk. The unopened tin trunk was still untouched at the end of the war so we used up the contents then. There were no sell by dates in those days

Clothing was also rationed. Make Do and Mend was the Slogan. Fortunately my mother was handy with a needle and her treadle sewing machine so my dresses were often lengthened or let out as I grew. Most of my clothes were homemade and home knitted.

The Swimming Pool was to be a decontamination centre for the town in the event of mustard gas being used and our overgrown garden was transformed with three air-raid shelters, two for public use of swimmers and an Anderson shelter for our family. One of the public shelters underground was rather like a tunnel with open ends. I think there were sort of curtains at each end, certainly not doors. The other was a square underground chamber with a vertical ladder from a trapdoor on the surface. It was damp and musty and very creepy inside with no ventilation unless the trapdoor was open. I used to play hide and seek in these shelters but apart from air raid practices they were never used. My friend had a brick shelter built on the road outside her house for the use of residents of the road. There were wooden seats inside and the shelter became a great den and shelter from the rain for local children. One of the neighbours was always complaining about us playing there. She told our parents that we were up to no good and got us into lots of trouble so we used to deliberately rattle the dustbin lids. The bins were put out by the shelter, near her house, for food scraps which were collected for pig food. She would come rushing out of the house ‘like a doodlebug with her tail on fire’ whenever she heard the lids rattle but she never managed to catch us.

My grandma had a Morrison shelter which almost totally filled the floor space in her living room. There was only just room to walk round it. A thick chenille cloth covered it and it became a favourite place for playing tiddlywinks and dominoes on the top of it. It was so sturdy the dominoes didn’t fall over if you tried to wobble it. Underneath it was a great secret hide away and a cosy bed beside the range. My uncles sometimes slept there when they were on leave.

We were always worried about air raids as we lived close to Manchester and schools had to have shelters as well. We had to take our gas masks to school every day and practise wearing them. It was hot and stuffy inside the gas mask and difficult to breathe. I hated the smell of the rubber but I was very proud of my smart grey, cylindrical tin to carry it in instead of the original cardboard box. Before the shelters were ready emergency procedures were devised in the event of an air raid and all the desks were pushed together in one corner of the classroom away from the windows and we all had to crawl underneath for shelter. We thought this was hilarious fun and an opportunity for a break from lessons, particularly when it was realised that only half the class would fit under the cover of the desks unless we piled on top of each other. There was lots of bumping heads and pushing and shoving. Then we were divided into two groups with a rota prepared so that each group attended school for only half a day. There were cheers for this unexpected treat but unfortunately it didn’t last for very long, only until the proper shelters were completed. Then we had regular practices, lining up in the classroom and walking in an orderly manner to the shelter allocated to our class. We used to pass the time in there having quizzes, stories and singing songs: Ten Green Bottles and The Quartermaster’s Stores were the favourites. Eventually when I reached the top class I became a shelter monitor with the task of checking the first aid box, sand and water buckets and generally keeping it tidy every morning. Most of the air raids came at night so there were few real uses of the school shelters.

My other grandad came to live with us after Grandma died at the beginning of the war. He responded to the Dig for Victory posters and discovered a talent for gardening. His own house had no garden so this was something new and he grew loads of vegetables and soft fruit. He used to watch for horses pulling railway trucks and milk carts and to my mortification; he would be out on the road in an instant with a bucket and shovel collecting the manure.

During the Manchester Blitz air raids occurred every night. My mother made sure I left a pair of trousers and a jersey on the bottom of the bed to quickly pull on over my pyjamas when the siren sounded. The very sound filled me with panicky excitement, another night in our Anderson shelter for my mother, grandad and me. I used to look forward to it almost as a treat to tuck up in a bunk bed in the garden. We had candles inside and biscuits and if there was time my mum made a hot drink in a flask to take with us. My dad, an ARP officer and special constable, always had to report for duty to the ARP centre in the town hall. He usually received a warning by telephone before the siren went so he was already at his post when the raid started and we got early warning to get into the shelter. The huge steel works nearby always opened their furnaces at night to get rid of the clinker and it was a worry that they might have to do it during an air raid.. I knew about this because we had a huge boiler to heat the swimming pool and I was used to watching our boiler man or my dad scrape out the clinker and shovel it into the yard.. We used to peep out of the shelter to watch if there was a red glow in the sky and then listen for aircraft overhead, trying to distinguish the sounds of German bombers or British aircraft. My mum was always on edge ready to rush us inside when the anti aircraft guns opened fire. One night during a heavy raid we heard several enormous bangs very close by and held our breath, wondering what had been hit. The Germans had been very accurate, targeting the larger buildings in the town, including several churches and a cinema. Our swimming pool was a large building with a huge chimney and we were terrified that the next bomb would be dropped on us. When things quietened a little my mum insisted on going out of the shelter to see what had happened. Grandad and I tried unsuccessfully to stop her. Her fears seemed to be realised as the town hall, about 400 yards away from us was ablaze and mum was desperately worried until my dad returned safely after the all clear sounded. The church next to my school was also hit, luckily it was not daytime or we would have been in the shelters, which almost adjoined the church.

Wartime to me was a great adventure, although at times it was scary. When petrol became unavailable, except for essential users, our car was raised on blocks in the garage for the remainder of the war. There was so little traffic on the roads that it was safe for even young children to go anywhere walking or on bikes. We used to dash around on the mornings after an air raid looking for bomb damage and trying to collect shrapnel. There was great competition amongst us as to who could find the biggest or best piece. We also cycled miles exploring the countryside. Signposts all disappeared during the war so we just followed the roads, sometimes stopping at a farm to ask the way or to ask for a drink of water but usually being given milk. We often went to Ringway airport (now Manchester Airport). In those days it was in the heart of the countryside and it was possible to cycle round the perimeter, crossing the runway where it extended beyond the perimeter and traffic, including bikes, was controlled by a traffic light. The aeroplanes were kept at the other side of the airfield, well away from our view.

Although there was a shortage of fuel there were regular and frequent bus or train services. Mum and dad and I went to Anglesey for holidays, by train and then on to the village by bus. The cottage belonged to our local butcher. It had no running water except from a rain collection tank outside and no electric light, just paraffin lamps or candles. It was very different and exciting, like living in the old days. One of our favourite walks was along the cliffs where we discovered a place to scramble down to a sheltered and secluded ledge of rock overlooking the bay. We were attracted by the waves crashing on the rocks, sending spray shooting high in the air. We accidentally discovered it to be a vantage point for observing the grey, shadowy, British convoys that sometimes stole for shelter in the bay. We used to count the ships and wonder about their cargoes or destinations. They rarely came in the bay when the weather was good. My auntie was bombed out of her home in Old Trafford and she and my little cousin came to live with us while my uncle was in the army. They moved on to Anglesey to live for a year or so in the same cottage which was eventually requisitioned and they had to move out. I don’t know what the cottage was used for perhaps it was for look out officers billets. I thought at the time that this was very unjust because it put an end to our holidays in the area.

My friend and I wanted to raise money to do our bit for the war effort and after much thought we decided to decorate paper doyleys with water colour paint. We thought they looked very pretty in pastel shades and we sold them to our relations or friends’ parents. We sent the money to Mrs Churchill’s fund. It wasn’t very much money but she sent a nice letter back thanking us for our efforts.

Towards the end of the war we were surprised at school to each be given a small paper bag of drinking chocolate. (I think that was what it was.) It was sent by the Americans enough for all the girls in the school. It never reached home though as we dipped our fingers into the sweet chocolatey mixture and then licked it off.. It was a real luxury for us and we thoroughly enjoyed it. I think our parents could hardly believe we had eaten it all.

VE Day brought great excitement. There was dancing and singing in the street beside the town hall. We had a huge bonfire in our yard and lots of people called in from off the street when my dad lit two incendiary flares (originally issued by the ARP to be used for training). We actually had the stirrup pump on standby in case the fire got out of control. There was a school party as well. Rows of tables were put out in the playground with flags and bunting. We all had to try to bring something for the party even though there was still rationing. There were sandwiches and cakes. I took lemonade in a large enamel jug which mum made from real lemons.

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