91热爆

Pete Wakefield understands the sites鈥� rules and regulations and has agreed that the following article can be added to the Peoples鈥� War site.

91热爆 Front - Some reminiscences from Pete Wakefield.

Having only been born in 1940, I do not have many memories of war time, but there are a few small points that I do recall:

- on the rare occasions when she could get a Mars bar, my mother eked it out but cutting it into thin slices like a loaf of bread 鈥�

- likewise chewing gum, another rarity. The individual sugar-coated 鈥榗ushions鈥� of Wrigley鈥檚 PK were also given out only once in a while. 鈥�

- I could recognise the tins of dried egg from the fact that they were printed on in yellow 鈥�

- my mother told the story of when, having been to the butcher and obtained a very rare small ration of liver, she left me in the pushchair outside the 91热爆 & Colonial while she went in for some other items. When she came out she was very worried to find blood all over me 鈥� while she had been at the cheese counter I had eaten the liver raw 鈥�

- I also recall a parcel arriving containing nuts and dried fruit, including what appeared to me to be the most enormous raisins. This, apparently, had been sent by my aunt in Australia 鈥�

- I recall being told off when marching around with my little friend from next door, waving our Union Jacks and shouting 鈥淏loody Hitler鈥� 鈥�

- I remember banging my head on the hard steel Morrison shelter which also served as our dining table.
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As recounted by my father

My parents and I lived in Acton in a large house that had been converted into flats, occupying the flat on the ground floor. An inner room had been made into a bathroom.

My father was employed in a 鈥楻eserved Occupation鈥�, working for a company in Acton that made electronic components for radio and radar equipment. Like many others he did his turn at fire-watching, and was also a member of the St.John Ambulance.

While the bombing of London was intense my mother and I had gone to stay with an aunt and uncle in Sunderland. This was perceived, mistakenly, to be safer than London.

In our absence my father would not rush out to the Andersen shelter during air raids, but preferred to sleep in the large, solid iron bath which he had lined with cushions, pillows and blankets. As further protection he covered the top with thick boards, and he kept his fire-watcher鈥檚 axe and torch at the side.

One night he was asleep in this 鈥榗ocoon鈥� when he was woken by a loud explosion and looked out to find that the bathroom light was on but swinging on its cable a few inches from the floor as the ceiling had almost collapsed. He managed to hack his way out of the building to find that the building had received an almost direct hit. His personal shelter had done him proud. Fortunately, he was able to find another home nearby for when mother and I returned home.

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