Born in 1941, almost at the same time as my mother’s younger brother died in Mauthausen concentration camp, I grew up in Croydon. We had a dome-shaped brick shelter in the garden, where I have a memory of sitting on a bunk with a blanket and a helmet. We had an Anderson (or was it Morrison?) shelter in the dining room which I remember as being painted blue metal with rust marks. The garden shelter became my father's wine cellar covered by a rockery after the war and had a special damp smell when you went down the steps. Since our house in Croydon was in direct line with the airport, we were first evacuated to Amersham, and in 1944 to Manchester, just in time for the doodle bug bombs.