- Contributed by
- Big Yellow Bus
- People in story:
- Irene McFetridge
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- 18 February 2005
This story has been input by Campbell Lawley of the BBC Bus team on behalf of Irene McFetridge, the author. The author understands and accepts the terms and conditions of the site.
I was 12 years old and living in the Bloomfield area of Belfast when the war broke out. I remember thinking it was far from Belfast, and nothing would ever happen to us as our Mum and Dad where there for us.
My first real taste of war for me was the start of the air raids, we went and stayed under the stairs of our house in Bloomfield and it was very frightening. I remember seeing my Mother baking soda bread at the door way of our cloakroom while the raid was on. The Wellington boots and coats were lined up every night in case we had to get out of the house. I also remember my Mother using flour and sieving it through a silk stocking to get the white flour for pastry and what was left made wheaten bread. Eggs were very hard to come by. My Mum used to make date and apple jam, it wasn’t nice to look at but it tasted ok.
The house next door was burned down during an air raid. I remember running up the entry and hearing what sounded like shrapnel falling onto the roofs of the houses.
Because of the burning down of the house next door we moved to Bangor where the war seemed far away. We were able to travel daily to our school in Belfast and had a great time on the train
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