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When I was seventeen, I was learning how to teach riding at Burnham-on-Sea. The riding school was run by women because the men were all away in the war. Some of us had joined the Girls Training Corps, so in the evenings, when we’d finished cleaning all the tack and mucking out the stables, we used to go to do our little bit for the war effort, learning how to use a stirrup pump, and aircraft recognition.

The idea was that we would know if there were German planes coming over, but I don’t know what we were supposed to do about it. We learnt about putting out fires and air raid precautions. I can remember once marching along the front at Burnham-on-Sea in our uniforms, on a big parade.

But I still feel the war almost passed me by, except that we were forever trying to make ends meet, and make the rations stretch - making meals out of very little. And we all used to listen to Churchill’s speeches and feel very inspired by them. Everybody was very much pulling together.

I was at home when the war actually ended. To celebrate, we were invited over to friends who lived in a big house, Bradley Hall, and there was a huge bonfire on VE night.

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