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Both sets of grandparents lived through the war - my father's Dad was in the army (evacuated from Dunkirk, later took part in D-Day landings), my dad's Mam stayed in Liverpool with 5 children, her mother, sister and her son all in the one (small) house. My mother's father served in the Navy from 1937 when he was 16 till the end of the war. My Nan, who's still alive, stayed in Liverpool with her mother, two younger sisters and, from 1943, my mother too, again all in the same house.

My father's mother and her sister were great talkers and loved telling stories from the Blitz - and even now my dad's eldest sister will talk about the huge bombing raids of winter 1940 and May 1941 on Liverpool.

The following story has stuck in my mind...

During a heavy raid on Edge Hill late in 1940 (both an aunt and great aunt spoke of this separately) told of the terror when the bombs started falling around. Apparently, my greatgrandmother was so scared that she visibly shrank to a tiny size (she was small to begin with). My aunt remembers the women and children throwing themselves to the floor with every whistling bomb, while my eldest uncle tried to keep the banging shutters closed to maintain the blackout during the blasts. Tragically, a family of 11 were killed in the house behind during that raid. My nan's brother helped with the rescue attempt but came back heartbroken at what he found.

The family moved to a house a few streets down a couple of months later. Many houses had been left empty and I was told they could easily find a new place. Probably after the trauma of what he'd experienced, my nan's brother built a brick surface shelter in the back yard of the new house, which kept everyone safe during the May Blitz of 1941.

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