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I went to a dance one Saturday night and we weren't there long when the sirens sounded. We didn't want to go to the shelter, so we carried on dancing, but by 10 o/clock the raid was getting worse - it was the night they dropped hundreds of incendiaries and London was alight.

Anyway, my brother had come to take me home - it was a good half hour's walk and it was terrible. We suddenly heard a bomb whistling down and he threw me to the ground - all I was worried about was ruining my stockings. (My brother Jim is 83 now and still reminds me about it!) When we got up again there were bricks and masonry all around us.

When we got home there'd been 3 incendiaries on our house alone, which the firefighters and ARP Wardens had managed to put out. Luckily, Mum and Dad were away for the weekend, visiting my 2 sisters who'd been evacuated to Somerset.

We'd all had a near miss that night.

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