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I was 6 yrs old when war broke out, my father was Joseph Knowles and he worked at the brick works. He was a member of the Home Guard and my mother Lydia was in the WRVS. They went out once a month with a wheelbarrow collecting old rags, bones, tins etc. My mother was also in the Red Cross.
Two or three years later we started taking in evacuees, they were a family of four, a mother, two daughters and a father who came to visit on a weekend.
During the war we used to sit on the front steps of our house and watch the brilliant light in the sky from the fires of Sheffield as it was bombed.
Living 20 miles from Derby which was the heart of Rolls Royce engine manufactory we awoke one morning to see two Barrage Balloons floating by, they had broken loose from their moorings.
Whilst taking in the evacuees I had to share my bedroom with my sister I was glad when war ended and I could have my own bedroom back. I know that sounds selfish but at the time, that is the one thing that I remember most.

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