Only in War-time

One teacher whose image is firmly embedded in my memory is Mrs. Hill who was tainted by more than a modicum of madness and was obsessed with security. As late as 1945 in the middle of a lesson she would scream, "Enemy bomber approaching" and we would dutifully dive under the desks even though the Germans had not visited Redditch for over two years. Occasionally she would hold air-raid drills and escort us out to the shelter where we would don gas masks and nasally chant our multiplication tables. By the time we got to "five fours are twenty" the gas mask goggles were steamed up and there was always some wag who would reduce us to tears of laughter by blowing into the 'snout' like filter and creating a farting noise. I can still recall the claustrophobic feel of that gas mask and the smell of rubber will always be a potent reminder of that time. I remember gardening class where we were encouraged to grow our own produce in the school vegetable plot as part of the wartime allotment programme. Lastly, one further memory which I feel that today's generation will find very difficult to appreciate is of standing in the playground with my schoolmates watching in awe as one of the boys whose father was on leave from the Merchant navy slowly peeled a banana and ate it, it was the first banana that most of us had ever seen.

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