I knocked on Muriel's door - I have a Great Idea' I said excitedly when she opened it. 'Great idea' she agreed when I told her, so we dashed back indoors, Muriel going to get the step-ladders, and I going to Mam's drawer where she kept the tablecloths. Swiftly choosing one I then ran to the window overlooking the shelter and saw Muriel climbing the ladder on to the shelter roof, for my idea was to have a picnic on it. I threw the tablecloth down to her and she laid it on the filthy roof after kicking away two or three small pieces of shrapnel to make sure the cloth lay flat.
We thought this was so exciting that we quite ignored the fact that the roof was very dirty. Years of rain, snow, dust and bits of shrapnel had not added to its cleanliness. This didn't matter to us, we were only concerned with getting our picnic ready so we carried on, I putting the kettle on whilst Muriel climbed down and went indoors for cups and saucers. On her return I began throwing out plates which Muriel deftly caught - just as well as it was all fine bone china and virtually irreplaceable! I then made a couple of sandwiches for us and ran downstairs, climbed the ladder and placed the plate neatly on the cloth. Muriel and I looked at our efforts and were well pleased. I then decided we may as well be comfortable so ran back upstairs and began throwing out cushions. It was then that Mam walked in. She had been out with Muriel's Mam and they had just returned. To say she hit the roof is putting it mildly. Mam had a fine singing voice, and in her best operatic style she roared 'What do you think you are doing?'
Muriel's Mam had also seen her daughter perched on the shelter roof busily putting biscuits on our plates. She was equally angry.
There was no point in saying 'But we only wanted a picnic on the shelter roof they were too angry for that. We just couldn't understand why they didn't share our excitement they soon told us in no uncertain terms! I was then sent downstairs to bring back everything I had taken, or thrown, out AT THE DOUBLE!
What we hadn't realised was that it was now illegal to make tablecloths so it was impossible to replace them. It was also against the law at this time to decorate cups, saucers and plates as it was deemed to be a waste of precious manufacturing time that could be better spent on making war necessities. Mam, of course, was aware of this so seeing her precious tablecloth and equally precious plates on a filthy roof, and food which Muriel and I had taken without permission - well, suffice it to say that we were in deep trouble! I remember this clearly as I had never seen our two Mothers so angry. We never did have our roof-top picnic and didn't dare even suggest it again. No way! I can't remember being smacked for this mis-deed but there would be some extra chore meted out to me I'm sure of that.
Muriel and I, and all the boys and girls who lived in our street, were great friends and in the evenings we all played together in the front street. It was quite safe, as there were virtually no cars or other vehicles about. Our favourite game was 'Cannon' and we played this game almost every night.' If the sirens went, then it only took a minute to get back home and into the shelter. We played together for years and it was only after we left school and started work that we lost touch with some of them.
I remember the Policeman riding up our street on his bicycle every night at 8.p.m. We always stopped our game and called Eight-o-clock and all's well' and he would smile and wave sometimes saying 'You young ones should be in bed.'
Its amazing how quickly you get used to things. At first, the sight of bombed buildings upset us, especially when precious toys could be seen in the rubble all battered and broken, photographs damaged beyond repair and irreplaceable someone's treasured memories. It was very sad, but after a while I remember looking at the walls and taking notice of the decorating. I would then go home and tell Mam what a good idea someone had had in the next street, and could we paint that pattern when next we decorated. Very few people had wallpaper as it was difficult to get during the war and an unnecessary waste of paper so the walls were 'stippled' and by looking at the walls you could see the various patterns people had used. I loved doing that.
We also saw streets cordoned off many times due to an unexploded bomb when everyone had to be evacuated from their homes until bomb-disposal experts defused the bomb. Very brave people! Land mines were also dropped and these,
too, had to be dealt with.
 | An unexploded bomb in our town 40 ft. down. During the time the soldiers were defusing the bomb there was the realisation that it could explode at any second. |
At school we were making pyjamas sewn by hand. Hand sewing on such a large scale was not my forte and I was absolutely bored. We made button holes and french seams and this class seemed to me to go on and on. Embroidery I loved, and knitting on four or two needles I enjoyed, but hand-sewing a pair of pyjamas I couldn't stand and I was one of the last ones to finish. When they were finished I never liked them!
The daylight raids when we were at school were often a welcome break when we weren't enjoying the lessons. As soon as the siren was heard we would jump up from our seats, reach for our coats hats and gas masks which were kept behind our seats and stand quietly in the aisle waiting for the order to 'March out quietly.' The teacher would then lead the way downstairs, and on reaching the outside door would open it, look up and around to see if it was safe to cross the school yard and then say 'Quick march, no looking up.' So, in an orderly manner, we would reach the comparative safety of the air raid shelter. This was a long low building with forms laid out in rows. It was dark on first entering and had a rather damp smell but once everyone was in and the door tightly closed it was quite cosy when the lights were switched on.
 | A gas-mask drill, which we often had, but mainly we had concerts in our shelter each class being asked to contribute. Our school shelter was also much larger than the one in the picture. |
We had the usual solos of 'There'll be blue birds over' and 'When the lights go on again all over the world' and recitations of the poems we had all been learning. Sometimes a whole class would sing, there was quite a variety. When the raid was at its loudest and shrapnel could be heard pattering down on to the roof the teachers would lead all the classes in singing - the noise was often as bad as that outside! I never once saw anyone crying during a raid or even looking scared. Children are very resilient and raids were now accepted as our way of life. We just sat listening to the noise and trusted in our wonderful Spitfires and Hurricanes to knock the enemy out of the skies. During the Battle of Britain Hurricanes outnumbered Spitfires two to one, and shot down more enemy aircraft than all the other air and ground defences put together. We often talked of what we would do if a Jerry plane was shot down and landed in our school yard, or if one was entangled in the barrage balloon tethered opposite us. I think the sight and sound of dozens and dozens of screaming schoolgirls each intent on dragging them out of the plane and beating them would have been infinitely more frightening to them than being shot down!!!!!
When the 'All-Clear' sounded we would come out of the stuffy shelter to the sound and smell of crackling fires, crashing masonry, the bells of the fire engines, and the sight of black smoke pouring from houses, factories and, sometimes, the Docks.
After a daylight raid I couldn't wait to get home to see if our house was still standing. I would race home to see if Mam was still alive, then wait anxiously for my little brother to come home and then finally there was Dad. Had the Docks been bombed? Was he safe?
There was no relaxing until we knew everyone was safe, including Aunts Uncles, Grandma and cousins. Only then could we breathe a sigh of relief and thank God we had come safely through another raid.
When a school was bombed it meant we had to share schools. The damaged school would use our school in the morning and we had our school in the afternoon. The following week we would change over. It was unsettling but there was a war on and these things had to be accepted.
One of the raids I remember particularly was when my Uncle Matt was nearly killed as he drove a bus round the market place. Sometimes the raiders managed to avoid the radar and dropped their bombs before the sirens went and in this instance as the bombs flattened several nearby shops my Uncle was fortunate to escape.
He managed to dive into the nearest shelter, but my cousin remembers him coming home with his hair and clothes covered in dust and debris and quite shaken. My Uncle was a brave man - he was awarded the Military Cross in the First World War for 'Bravery above and beyond the call of duty' as he had rescued a platoon of men from being wiped out. He also had an unusual wide, thick belt, and when asked where he got it he told us that a German soldier had given it to him for rescuing him! He was a kind, gentle man who couldn't bear seeing even the enemy in danger.
Another memory is when we first had tins of Spam I believe Spam stood for 'Special Purchase of American Meat.' Mam would make fritters of it and we enjoyed those they were a tasty and filling meal which we all enjoyed.
I also remember one day when we managed to get some summer fruit my Mam made a fruit suet pudding and this was our dinner, the main meal of the day and we loved it. We only wished we could have this every day as it was tastier than a lot of the food we had to eat.
Another great treat I remember was when Mam managed to buy a tin of condensed milk. This would be kept until she could walk down to a factory which made wafer biscuits for ice cream. These were allowed to be bought 'off the ration' at times so when they were for sale Mam would buy a large packet. What excitement when we saw a plate of wafers and a small glass bowl of condensed milk on the table. We sandwiched them together as if they were ice cream and thoroughly enjoyed them. If there were no wafers or cakes we would often have a slice of bread and sprinkle sugar on it and we enjoyed this too.
One day at school the teacher asked if anyone wanted to have homework to prepare for the entrance exam to St. John's Higher Grade School. Not many went forward and as my particular friend didn't want to go I decided I wouldn't bother either. Most of the girls were keen to start work at 14 yrs. and couldn't wait to get into the Forces. We each knew which Branch we wished to join, I was keen to join the Wrens like my cousin who was a Writer to Commander Baxter in Scotland. As she had dark hair and dark eyes he called her 'Molly' as he said she looked like an Irish colleen! I didn't want to work on the Ack Ack guns as another cousin did. She also learned to drive an Army lorry and often popped in for a cup of tea when she would regale us with hilarious stories of life on an Ack Ack station. But back to school! The girls wanting to study for St. Johns and stay at school a further two years were given their daily homework and the day came when the teacher said 'This is the last opportunity for names to go down for St. John's entrance exam.'No-one moved, then suddenly I found myself walking down the aisle almost propelled by unseen hands. I went to the teacher's desk and asked for my name to be put down. She gave me my homework, wrote my name down on the list and I walked, in a daze, back to my desk. Mam and Dad were surprised when I told them what I had done as previously I had shown no interest in staying on for a further two years. So now every night it was homework with Dad helping me with my Maths and English. The entrance exam was taken a few weeks later and then there was the long wait for the result.
All the time we were at school there were no such things as half-terms but we did have a few extra days off school for Ascension Day and Empire Day and such like.
I loved P.E. at school, the only drawback being that our P.E. sessions were held in the boys' school hall as their hall was larger and better equipped. The plimsolls we drilled in were kept by their sizes on show racks. There was always a rush to get the least worn pairs, the unlucky ones having to put up with the more worn ones. No-one had their own plimsolls as they were difficult to get during the war and would have cost coupons had they been available. I remember enjoying the climbing frames on the wall and the wooden horse which we jumped over, landing with a thud on the coconut mat. Despite the daylight raids and gas mask drills, the half-day teaching and going from one evacuation to another I enjoyed school life and was happy wherever I was.
Although we had larger classes than usual, fewer materials such as paper and pencils we were much better off than some schools in Germany where they had spies in the classroom. One German boy broke his arm and couldn't give the Hitler salute. The teacher understood and excused him from trying. The spy, however, reported the teacher to the Nazis and the teacher was taken away and executed!
For my 14th. birthday we went to stay with an Uncle and Aunt on the outskirts of Liverpool and we had a wonderful time apart from the usual raids! My Aunt showed me how to make a table cloth from a large flour bag. We went out and bought a empty flour bag, brought it home and washed it and washed it until it was a pale cream colour. We then bought a lovely transfer of an open wicker basket with flowers tumbling out of it. After the washed flour bag was hemmed and ready we then ironed this transfer on to it. It was then ready to be embroidered so out we went again and bought embroidery silks.
Elizabeth Aynsley ©
