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The following are memories recalled by Pamela Spencer-Rigg, as recorded by Hanover Housing Association in their book 'Tale of the Century' published in 1999.
It was early evening - still light - when, very proud of my siren suit made from my mother's cast-off coat, I scurried down to the Anderson Shelter. My regular task was to empty the sump in the shelter which provided us with clean filtered water.
The family spent the nights in the shelter and we would listen to the scream of the bombs thinking, 'Would they reach our road?' One night there was an earth shattering tremor and a tinkle of shattering glass.
What had happened? We hardly dared look out of the shelter.
At first glance there was little sign of a raid, but we soon discovered that the first land mine, floating to earth on a parachute, had destroyed two houses. John, a young friend, had perished, yet the rest of his family sheltering with him in the broom cupboard under the stairs, had survived -- such was the way of a blast.
Parachute silk could be bought, together with a pattern for undies. The garments we made were a real treat, as clothing was rationed even until 1948. I recall that I obtained coupons from friends, so that we had enough to get my husband-to-be a suit to sear for our wedding.
I was living in Wirral, which was designated a danger zone, and so I was sent as an evacuee to Oswestry, a small town on the Welsh border. None of us knew our destination until we arrived, not even our parents who waited for the card from their offspring which had been duly addressed and stamped in advance.
 My time in Oswestry was happy. I remember well the visits to a farm, where I helped to churn the butter and enjoyed buttermilk and freshly baked bread.
Sadly I returned home early to complete my sixth form studies, so my morning jaunts through lanes of cowslips, primroses and violets were over.
Formal education eventually was completed. Then I needed to learn the 'social graces' and duly took horse-riding lessons, dancing lessons and ice-skating. It was at dancing lessons that I met my fiancé and we decided to seek employment in London. The London County Council decided to give us our wedding reception as an advertising ploy.
Great fun was had by all and we finished up with a typically London knees-up.
We rented a room in Paddington -- an area where policemen went around in fours. Our only furniture was a bed-settee, a chair and a wardrobe. The landlady kept both our ration books. For dinner we subsisted on potatoes and cabbage, and for breakfast we fried up the leftovers.
This lifestyle ended when we got a job in the New Forest and lived in a farm cottage.
Now I am thankful to be settled in my own sheltered accommodation where I can sit in my wheelchair in the garden. I have enjoyed a full and varied life, but the best is yet to come!
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