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A day in June 1944. Age 14. Walked the usual mile to the bus terminus from our evacuated London school housed in a Surrey mansion, pleased to go home at the end of a difficult school day studying in the damp, cold wine cellars when the sirens went. Arrived to find chaos. All main roads closed due to troop movements. All trains cancelled. No contact with home possible as no-one had private phones and we had no money anyway. "You will have to walk", said the police. It was 12 miles from Guildford to Dorking. We dragged ourselves mile after mile, with heavy bags of books. I lived furthest and arrived home at 9p.m. with blistered feet. My mother was frantic with worry. She walked to the phone box next morning early to ask the school if I could have the day off. "Certainly not!" my Headmistress said. "She has exams!"
With feet covered in plasters, I was on the bus at 8a.m. next morning as usual. That was war. Hardship was everybody's contribution.

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