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We lived at Thorpe near Norwich, and had an Anderson shelter in our garden but my father, who was a WW1 veteran, decided that they weren鈥檛 safe. He was actually convinced that the safest place for us to be was outside. So, when we had a raid, we would march, in our nightdresses and coats, up the road and through a gap in the hedge and sit there like ninnies with blankets over our heads. There was myself, three sisters, my sister in law and a baby in arms. There was a gun emplacement on the nearby playing field and so we would sit there in the field watching the lights and listening to the shrapnel falling around us. We would then pick it up in the morning to take to school.

One Sunday morning I remember being in my mother鈥檚 back garden when three German planes came over. The pilot looked down at us. I can remember seeing his leather helmet. My dad pushed my mother down and grabbed the rest of us indoors. The planes flew over and eventually bombed the corn field.

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