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Our boarding school was north of London and relatively safe from air raids, although we slept underground in the service tunnels as a matter of course. In March 1941 there was an enormous explosion followed by the pitter patter of falling items. By morning light we explored and found that an ‘aeriel torpedo’ (a large bomb on a parachute) had landed on the local allotment and our place had been showered with carrots, spuds and Brussels sprouts.

Later, the occasional V.1 doodlebug came over, having overshot London with too much fuel on board. One afternoon in July 1944 our cricket match against the local anti-aircraft battery troops was so interrupted and we fielders all lay down. The military batsman merely glanced up and said “2000 feet and still flying north — can I have the next ball please?�

This story was added to the website by Jenni Waugh, ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Outreach Officer, on behalf of Mr Shaw who accepts the site's terms and conditions.

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