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On Sunday, 3 September, Britain declared war on Germany. Hitler had not taken any notice of the ultimatum given to withdraw his troops from Poland. The announcement came over the radio, called the wireless then. My parents were at church and I ahd a telephone call from my sister saying that we were now at war - we didn't have a wireless.

At the news I burst out crying thinking of the safety of Harold, the young man I had met the previous Christmas, who was a regular in the RAF, and was stationed in Egypt, who I had been receiving letters from regularly. When my parents returned from church, grim faced and tight lipped, they said the vicar had received a message during the service and made the announcement that Britain was now at war with Germany.

A few nights after that, when the children were in the bath and my parents were out, an official came with two more evacuees, a mother and a bay. I said I already had two, but the man said we were put down for four - so I had to take them in.

That was just the beginning of the war, which lasted six years.

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