something a little different.

My mother was ten when the war ended. She was in London at the Victory parade, with my grandmother, her aunt Monkey and her older cousins Jessica and Mickey. They had spent the duration of the war living together, it being safer for women to live together in a community. Her parents and her had been living in London when the blitz krieg bombing started, and spent many a frightened night and day in the underground shelters. So for their safety they had been sent to live in Antrim, Northern Ireland, back to her roots really, a coastal town on the east coast of Northern Ireland. Once there she went to work as a young child in a parachute factory, while far away, her father commandeered an Air-Craft Carrier somewhere in the ocean making it's way towards Hiroshima. They landed shortly after the bomb had been dropped, and he never did want to talk about what he saw there, and never did. One can only try to imagine the horror and desolation they must have found on the shore-line of that once thriving city.