Find your tribe in a Sea of Creativity
“It was an October night in 1940. We lived in Plaistow and were struck by a bomb when we were in our Anderson shelter. We were all buried alive. I felt my hand was free and managed to pull myself out. I saw my mother’s legs and began pulling her. I was calling out for help. There was a massive crater where my father and fiancé had been sleeping. My father was blown three houses away and my fiancé was in a nearby garden. My father was dead. I never knew what parts were in the coffin. My fiancé was screaming in pain. He, my two brothers, my sister, myself and Mum were all taken to hospital. My fiancé died. I went to Dad’s funeral, but Mum was away in another part of town in hospital, having operations on both of her legs. My fiancé was buried the next day. I went to that.”
— “Our Street: East End Life in the Second World War”