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I was 3 when the war started, 8 when it finished, so just odd memories.

I remember the VE celelbrations well. A few days later the children had a party arranged at Whitley Common in Coventry in a tent. There I saw a conjuror for the first time. I can still remember how magical and unexpected this was, and the lovely food not seen before.

We dug up the lawn and kept chickens — who became personal pets. When it was time for them to go the milk lady took them in exchange for a deceased one but I expect it was the same one really!!

I was evacuated privately, to North Wales — Dolgellau, Beddgellect, Llewing, Portmadoc and then to South Devon, returning to Coventry in 1943.

I remember picking roships which were collected and made into rose hip syrup to give to children, delicious.

In Coventry, after the Blitz, I remember Rose Bay Willow herb growing over the bomb damage and although a weed I have always had a soft spot for it.

I remember collecting the weekly rations from the local grocery store, the assistant reciting “Sugar, Butter, Marg, Lard, Bacon, cheese” as she packed them up. I still recite that as I make my shopping list adding “bread, eggs”.

My father, Lt. Cdr William Frederick Weller, was killed 6 weeks before the end of the war, on arctic convoys, described by Churchill as “among the worst conditions in the world” having survived the Atlantic convoys. I, like Eddie Grenfell on page 20 of the Big lottery fund book, ‘remembering the war’ feel there should have been an arctic medal. The government have promised an arctic badge this year at last, but it should have been a medal long ago.

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