My House, My Street
NextBackMy first recollection, with which to start my memoirs, must have occurred sometime in 1940 or ‘41, dad allowing me to pop my head out of the air raid shelter to see the night sky ablaze. “Coventry’s copping it” according to Dad. Our shelter, immediately to the rear of our house on Studley Road, was a wonderful one. It was brick built with a concrete roof, bunk beds, electrical heating and lighting and a seat made from a cut down barrel. We would all troop down to the shelter in our pyjamas and nightgowns whenever the sirens sounded. I do have vague memories of before this, of sudden cessation of Victoria sponge cakes. Dad was a long distance transport driver, going out into the marvellous world beyond Studley Road and I was always begging him to bring home the “goodies” as he had used to do every Friday evenings when we would have cake for tea. It was a long time before I saw a proper Victoria sponge again.
