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Gwen Gibson

I was only two years old when war broke out in 1939, so my recollections are of towards the end of the war.

I well remember when living at home in north London and the siren went off, we went to the lounge where we had a Morrison shelter, which was like a steel cage with a metal top. My brother and I slept at one end and my parents at the bottom, feet towards us. We had a sweetie tin there just for such raids. Of course, we had blackout curtains. My father was an air raid warden. The post was at the bottom of our road. When on duty, and in between raids, they played solo, a card game, and for many years after, the group of four came to our home every Wednesday to play solo. My mother would make rock cakes to be consumed at half time. I remember going to the Ministry of Food office block with our ration book and one time came away with blackcurrant puree in a tin, which tasted so good. We were not evacuated, but my aunt had a hut at Burley in the New Forest where we went in the summer holidays. The same aunt moved to St Austell in Cornwall and had a huge monkey puzzle tree in the garden. I just about remember going there as we were able to go swimming in the sea, which was a real treat. My father was working but managed to make black currant jam with fruit from the garden.

We were all issued with gas masks which seemed quite frightening to wear. A nearby bomb at home made the dining room ceiling come down and the leaded light window had tape across it to stop the glass coming in.

Even after the war had finished, getting fresh vegetables and some food continued to be hard, and many people had allotments to grow their own veg.

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