About the contributor

I was 5 years old when the war started and my sister was 7.We soon missed all the things that came from overseas, such as oranges and bananas, so that after a while we completely forgot what bananas tasted like.
On our way to school we passed a greengrocer's shop which had a big metal sign advertising Fyffe's bananas fastened to the wall, with a picture of bananas six feet long. As the war progressed the sign became more and more rusty until the bananas appeared brown and rotten and after that we could hardly remember bananas at all. (At the end of the war a shipment arrived and all the children were each given a banana).
One day we decided to make some bananas for our mum's birthday as a surprise. We used dried milk, water, yellow food colouring, and banana essence and the result was a marzipan-like lump which we moulded into two 'bananas' and placed on the prettiest plate we could find.
When mum came home from the mill we sang Happy Birthday and gave ther the present. Although it must have tasted hoorible she ate every morsel and praised us profusely!
For dad's birthday we cut the centre from an old hard-backed book, covered it with cloth and put two cigarettes inside. Hey presto! His own hand-made cigarette box!
At Christmas mum made rag dolls from black-out material, with hair made from black darning wool. Dolls beds, complete with hand-sewn tiny sheets and blankets, were made from shoe-boxes.
Dad made suites of dolls-house furniture from bundles of firewood.
He also built our own air-raid shelter under the stairs by reinforcing the walls and ceiling with steel girders. It was just big enough for a single bed, but cosy and safe enough till we heard the All Clear.
We were all sent home from school to celebrate VE Day. In Dukes Brow where we lived bits of coloured rag were tied together to make bunting.
Dad brought a white sheet off the bed, cut it in half and painted one piece with The Union Jack in red and blue paint. He fastened this to the clothes prop and hung it from the bedroom window.
On the other half-sheet he painted Hitler's face in black paint with 'You've had It Chum!' underneath. He fastened this to the clothes line and strung it from our bedroom window to one across the street. Within minutes children from all over the neighbourhood were throwing tennis balls and cheering as they hit Hitler on the nose.
As darkness fell our parents took us to the top of Corporation Park where we gazed at the whole of Blackburn below. Hundreds of bonfires - as if the whole world was alight. For 6 years we had lived in darkness , making our way through the streets or down the back-yard to the outside toilet with only the light from our small torches.
We walked into town where the Mayor and other dignitaries were on the Town hall balcony waving to masses of cheering citizens below. We were drawn like moths to a flame into the centre and found ourselves dancing, singing and hugging total strangers.
It was long after midnight before we went home.
With VJ Day the celebrations began all over again but were more muted as the horror of the horror of the atomic bombs and the victims of concentration camps became a reality. I was 11 by then but because I was very tall I could get into the cinema as an 'adult'. As pictures of the concentration camps were flashed on the screens people aound us fainted and had to be carried outside.
After the war I thought the shops would immediately fill with chocolate, toys, food and clothes but rationing went on for many more years before things returned to normal.