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Regarding living in that era, I find difficult to explain. Perhaps I in common with others at that time developed the approach 'if it going to happen there is not much we can do to prevent it', and so we just got on with life as best we could.
I was thirteen and a half when the first air raid siren sounded and helping my father fill sand bags to stack against the French window doors of our living room, this room being the only retreat as a shelter (before the arrival of the Anderson shelter). We both looked up not knowing what to expect to happen - I think perhaps to see masses of aircraft - but nothing did happen and indeed did not for another year. So the initial feelings began to be replaced by what can only be explained as a false sense of security. We carried on with life as near normal as possible, apart from certain irritations such as having to queue for most items at shops, rationing and the Warden bellowing periodically 'Put that light out'.
It was not until the end of 1940 that reality began to show. The first German aircraft I saw was when fishing at Dagenham gravel pits and my feelings were more of curiosity as to what their intentions were, than of fear. But of course this was when the bombing really started. But even then one did not live in perpetual fear, otherwise nothing would get done. Yes there were times when I was petrified but these feelings were short lived. I think that because my teenage years were the war years, perhaps I accepted this to be a way of life.
Ray Smith, September 2000.
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