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One of my strongest memories of W.W.2 was as a child at the height of the blitz in Liverpool. The local women and children (who were not evacuated) were herded out of the area each night in Pickford removal vans and taken to safety, returning the following morning to their homes, provided the homes remained standing. We slept in churches, church halls, schools etc. or in the homes of those willing to take us in for the night in the outlying areas of Southport. On one occasion my mother (who was pregnant at the time) my sister and I were walking in crocodile fashion with all the rest of the escapees following a warden carrying a clipboard along a rather well-to-do surburban avenue hoping for a bolt hole for the night. Most people were welcoming and hlepful but when we eventually worked our way to the front of the queue, and it was our turn next, a lady leaning on a gate at the end of her drive said "I will take that lady and her two children in, but not in the house, they will have to stay in the garage". My mother said "thank you dear but no, we will take our chances with Hitler" and we took the next bus home. We lost friends, neighbours and family and damage to our home during the bombing over the next twelve months, but we kept our pride and never again did we take the removal van to safety.

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