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My lasting Memory of World War II is…is when I was 12 in 1941, there was an air raid. Our family sheltered under the stairs. Mum and I were there when the bomb dropped at the side of our home. Dad was at the front of the house and saw the bomber and the bomb dropping. He shouted, “this one’s for us”. Luckily the living room door slammed to as the window glass shattered and half of the wall and fireplace blew inwards. I recall us running down our lane in nightclothes; I had moccasins slippers on ands felt the mounds of clay debris and shrapnel as we ran to the White Swan Pub. I recall someone offering me some dripping toast! We slept under Grans table for months whilst our house was repaired. The bomb had hit gas and water pipes and our outdoor shelter was flattened.

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