- Contributed by
- People in story:
- Mrs Mavis Burrows
- Location of story:
- Background to story:
- Article ID:
- Contributed on:
- 08 August 2005
This story was submitted to the People's War website by Daniel Jones for GMR Actiondesk on behalf of Mrs Mavis Burrows and has been added with her permission. The author is fully aware of the terms and conditions of the site.
I was a small child, 3 years old, when the war broke out. My father went into the forces and finished as a Prisoner of War in Japan. I remember when the sirens went off, we had to run to the bottom of the garden to the air raid shelter. I didn’t like it, it was dark and damp, and I was frightened.
As I got older, I was left with people — granny, neighbours, anyone who would look after me, as my mother had to go to work. Since my father as a P.O.W., no money was coming in. She had to work, and so it was a case of anyone looking after me.
I remember my mother used to go Meadow Mill, with her friends from work, and she took me along, all the mothers did, and we ran around playing with other children.
I also remember having to run the corner shop for my mother. It was very, very dark because of the blackout, and all the railing had been taken down, and I fell. I remember having an enormous bump on my head.
I was protected from the bombs. I don’t think any fell near us…
Father finally came home when I was 8. I didn’t know him. My mother just said “He’s your father”, but he could’ve been anyone. He was so thin and poorly that he had to go away again, to the hospital to get better.
On VE day we had a street party, it was great, decorations and things we hadn’t had before because we never had any sweets or special things, so the party was a big event.
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