- Contributed byÌý
- ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Open Centre, Hull
- People in story:Ìý
- Betty Davey
- Location of story:Ìý
- Blake Street Hull
- Background to story:Ìý
- Civilian
- Article ID:Ìý
- A4192175
- Contributed on:Ìý
- 14 June 2005
Story taken by Charles Dinsdale at the ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Open Centre 10/6/2005
I was 9 when the war first started and 16 when it finished. I like my bed and I like my sleep. When the siren went off and you went to the air raid shelter the bunks were no as comfortable as my bed. I decided that I didn’t want to go to the shelter and refused when Mum tried to get us there. Until Dad came he was a big man and you didn’t disagree with him. He would lift me out of bed and take me to the shelter. While we were in the shelter my Dad, who was a policeman, would boil Swedes and mash with salt and pepper and butter and bring them to the shelter.
© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.
Recommended story
Story with photo