The Noise of the Siren was the Worst Noise in the World
I remember playing “Cherry Looks Up The Spout” and throwing my ball against the wall, or my friends would bring a skipping rope out and we would play skipping. On Sunday my sister Celia and I would go to Sunday school at the lovely little church around the corner or if we wanted to know the right time we would go and look a the church clock. I would sometimes go to evening church on Sunday evening with my Mum. On Sunday afternoon I would go and visit my Aunt who lived just around the corner and she always gave me a penny and one for Celia.
We loved to go to town on a Saturday afternoon with my Mum who always got dressed up with hat and gloves and handbag. Most people were dressed up to go to town. The shops were lovely, G.H. Lee’s, Henderson’s and others. Celia and I were always nicely dressed in lovely silk dresses with smocking across the front for Celia and nice clothes for me.
Mum always cooked Sunday dinner early so that we could eat about 5pm and then she could go to 6.30pm service.
I started day school when I was 5. I could never manage to eat any breakfast so Mum would bring me a jam sandwich at playtime and pass it to me through the railings.
I remember the day Celia was born my Dad was in tears and couldn’t say anything. Celia was a lovely baby with lovely fair curly hair but mine was dark and straight.
I used to play with the Cookson girls who lived opposite and sometimes we would go to the park. We would be quite safe and would stay there for hours in the school holidays. We would take sandwiches and a bottle of lemonade and have our lunch out and we were quite safe.
We left school at 14 and got jobs at a sewing factory in Woolton and we cycled to work unless it was raining and when the war started we had to remember to take our gas masks everyday, otherwise we were sent home to get them. One evening we had finished work and we were riding home when the siren went (the noise of the siren was the worst noise in the world) and we were all (6 of us) riding as fast as we could go, but the German plane seemed to be right overhead and seemed to be chasing us, or so we thought. My friend called “ There aren’t any shelters along here!” so we had to keep going, but the plane seemed to suddenly disappear. We were so glad when we arrived home.
My Dad was a tram driver and if the sirens went he had to stop the tram near to a shelter to allow his passengers to shelter there, so many a time he was late home from work.
Margaret Fairfield, Aigburth