Mulgrave Street - Their Past Your Future (sitios de interés)
Descripción del sitio
I was five years old when war broke out in September 1939 and I was just about to start Stansfield Street School. Dad was working at JL Thompson’s shipyard as a labourer. We lived in Mulgrave Street Monkwearmouth so he didn’t have far to go. He was an ARP. Warden and it was his job (along with many others) to go into the streets after dark to check everyones windows for signs of light that were shown through the black coloured blinds that everyone had — they were a must, in case the light was spotted by any German aircraft as they made their way across. Dad would shout up at the windows and if there was no answer, he would walk along the dark passages and give a knock on the door’ just to let them know, or, as the case may be, shout up the stairs, then wait for a reply.A bomb dropped on JL Thompson’s shipyard and as it was just at the bottom of our street my parents thought some of the houses had had a direct hit, as the noise was quite near. After the all-clear we made our way out of the air raid shelter. Dad opened the kitchen door (sitting room) only to find the windows had been blown out by the blast from the bomb. There was glass everywhere. I remember him saying, “Thank God the house is still standing” and Mam began to cry. It didn’t take long before the windows were replaced on which a criss-cross pattern was made from a roll of sticky paper, which served as a protection for the rest of the war.
When the sirens sounded at school we were quickly taken down into the shelter, which was underground, singing along with the teachers to Ten Green Bottles Hanging on the Wall. I remember it as if it were yesterday.
People couldn’t go far as some of the picture halls were closed down and the beaches were barbed-wired off. The only entertainment was the wireless and the pubs of course, if and when they could afford it. Making clippie mats was very popular with the whole family being involved. We children would sit on Mam’s shiny fender or Dad’s homemade crackets and with a progger each, were there until time for bed.
Church street library where people would spend a little time going through the books looking for something to read, must have been a great comfort for the people. As Dad would say,” It broadens the mind”.
I was eleven years old when the war finished - the excitement of it all, ships’ buzzers sounding off, flags strewn across the streets from one window to another, men, woman and children all cheering and dancing. What a memory. Later on came the street parties - big wooden tables pulled together and white cotton sheets were used as tablecloths - everything was hand-made. Servicemen were coming home this time for good.
Things started to get back to normal - blackout blinds came down, sticky paper removed from the windows, although it was no easy task. Picture halls opened and the barbed-wire was taken from the beaches after the sand had been cleared of any bombs that may have been dropped. The lamps were lit again and gas masks were given in - freedom at last! Then as time went by the end of the ration books.
By JOAN QUINN.