I HAVE read the Swindon at War article (SA, April 7) and enclose some memories to share. I have almost completed a book I have been writing about a school boys’ life during the Second World War. Although it is based on my experiences living in Swindon during those times I have not mentioned the town by name, in keeping with the security issues at the time.

The following is taken from the description of what happened in our household on the occasion of the bombing of Roseberry Street and York Road.

The blitz on London prompted mother to invite auntie to stay with us to take a break from the continuous bombing, an invitation which was gratefully accepted.

On the first night of auntie’s stay, father was working nights as was George head of the family next door.

We had all retired to bed quite early and I was almost asleep, when the peace was suddenly shattered by the sound of a low plane roaring over the house tops accompanied by the whistling sound of falling bombs. There followed a series of explosions, and the sickening sound of falling bricks and masonry. Mother’s bedroom door burst open and she bounded along the landing shouting ‘Quick get up... that’s bombs’. We didn’t need telling twice and we all made a beeline for the cupboard under the stairs, which was thought to be the best shelter in the house and where several chairs had been set in readiness for occasions such as this.

After we had settled and looked around, it was quite clear that modesty had no place under wartime conditions, with auntie’s hair in curlers, mother with no teeth and me with no trousers. Movement and chatter next door indicated that Rose and daughter June had also taken shelter, and we found it possible to hold conversation with raised voices. ‘That was close’ said Rose.

‘I wonder where they came down,’ said mother. ‘Too close for comfort’ muttered auntie.

‘We’ve got saucepans on our heads’ said Rose. There was a brief silence all round while everyone visualised the comical scene, and then followed roars of laughter from all sides. There was no better way to relieve the tension, and although we found it amusing, the use of saucepans for protection was an extremely sensible option under the circumstances. We suddenly realised that there had been no air raid warning preceding the attack, and so there would be no all clear siren.

When we thought it quiet and reasonably safe, we ventured into the front garden to see if any passerby had news. Quite a few neighbours had the same idea, and had already found out that the bombs had landed just across the lake at the back of our house.

Auntie rounded off the evening with an unexpected and humorous comment when she told us that we invited her to spend time with us as a welcome break from London bombing, but she had been nearer to bombs on her first night with us, than at any time during the London blitz.

RON BURCHELL

Crombey Street

Swindon