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I FOUND writing this quite difficult as my childhood was so long ago.
I was born and raised in Enfield in North London.
I do remember my brother Tony and I standing on an unexploded bomb in about 1946 or 1947. We were so lucky that it did not explode.
Tony and I were not evacuated as my Mum refused to leave my Dad.
Being stone deaf (he contracted meningitis aged 12 and lost his hearing), Dad was not able to join the war effort, so we were a lucky family.
My Mum had been deaf since birth and I remember, aged about two, tugging her skirt to alert her to the air raid siren or the kettle boiling.
Dad was a photographer and printer and owned a shop in Southgate.
In the school holidays, my brother and I helped in the back room where there were chemicals in large tanks and we used to dip negatives in the liquid — the results were black and white photos.
I remember my Dad ringing us at home and saying, “Tell your Mum I will be home soon”. He’d repeat this sentence many times. I always gave Mum the message — she would read my lips.
Every Friday, Dad came home with sweets for us, which was such a highlight for Tony and I.
11 January 2021
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