Jubilee

It must be watching the Queen’s Jubilee that brought it on: I’ve been thinking about the war years.
The Anderson air-raid shelters were damp, and sometimes flooded. I remember vaguely that there were a few damp comics on the benches to keep the kids amused. Despite the bombs we gave up the Anderson and used the indoor coal-house that Dad whitewashed for the purpose. Sometimes we would just gather beneath the heavy kitchen table. Through the blackout curtains sometimes we heard screeching phosphorus bombs and could detect the fires from the cornfields after the whistling fire-bombs had been dropped (we urchins would hunt for the whistling devices the next day – they were good fun tied to a rope and spun around the head). I’ve a memory of being grabbed and dragged back under the table after I’d charged the window, wooden spinning top in hand, calling out: ‘Me bomb Hitler back!’