I was five and living in south London ( Brixton) when war broke out so was evacuated to Kent with the first draft where I had the thrill of having a front seat watching the Battle of Britain from my host farm. On one particularly ferocious day a young bailed out Spitfire pilot parachuted into our field. Later, between a flurry of returns home and further evacuations to Wales and the Midlands I witnessed London ablaze from the roof of my dad's shed, the first doodle bugs and the dreaded V2 rockets.
So many memories - and I don't recall ever being afraid, just excited.