I was seven when the war started and fourteen when it finished. We had a lot of air raids and me father used to take us down underneath the floor. He used to work shifts at the infirmary. And this particular night was a Friday night and we had Braze Nerrows that had a manufacturing for armoury and they were after Braze with the bombs. And it bombed us and we had a bomb at the top of the street and a bomb at the bottom of the street. And some of the beds was hanging out of the windows.

We were lucky, we just had a cellar window broken. My father when he came home from work - it was the next morning - he couldn't get down the top of the street. He couldn't get down the bottom of the street because of the bombs, they won't let him through. So he come through a middle part which we would still be able to go through there into Woodhouse Street, and he didn't expect us to be alive if all the houses would be… you know, because it was a very bad night.