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I was born in Dorset in 1942, but as my father was a clergyman, he decided to move into the East End of London with my mother and I, even though most people were moving in the opposite direction.
We spent the rest of the war in Leytonstone and endured the bombing without sustaining any family casualties.
My chief memory, apart from the noises of aircraft, doodlebugs, bombs and rockets, was of the occasions when our water was cut off and we had to collect fresh water from a lorry that came round each day. I was very proud as a little boy to help my mother carry the jugs and other containers out for filling!