This wartime diary offers a vivid first‑hand account of the early days of the Blitz, capturing the fear, resilience and everyday sights of life during air raids.
The diarist is believed to be Alexandrina Elizabeth S Munro, who lived in Fullwell Avenue, Barkingside.
Miss Munro was born on August 3, 1895, in Morayshire, Scotland, and died in May 1984 in Redbridge.
The unique document was headed 'Confidential by an Observer'.
Saturday, August 31, 1940
About one hour out of London, the train stopped. The guard came through every carriage asking if anyone wished to leave the train.
There were two 'tommies' and an airman in our carriage and, with one voice, we all said, “No, carry on.”
One of the tommies, an Australian, stretched out his legs on the other seat and said, “Come on, bomb us you swine!” before promptly falling asleep.
The train moved off slowly until later we heard the “All Clear”. We then picked up speed again and that was that.
Air Raid No. 1
At 5.55pm, Mournful Minnie went off – the siren’s nickname, given by a parson from the pulpit.
The boys went up and engaged them, snapping at each other with their cannons. I heard the zoom of planes weaving in and out, then two were hit and, floating gently on the breeze (with the greatest of ease) were two pilots – one of ours and one of the enemy.
It was quite a terrific dogfight.
Afterwards, I saw what was left of a Messerschmitt 109: the starboard wing, battered; the machine gun; the radiator; an incendiary bomb; the tail root controls (and a photo of our boy who brought it down).
When the German pilot landed, he told them that when they have to bail out they open to full throttle and crash at an impact of 500mph. He was 18-years-old.
All clear sounded at 7.20pm.
At 9.50 we heard the guns first. Twenty‑five were brought down.
At 11.30am there was quite a short one (the usual noise and banging).
In each of these raids the Nazis come over one or two at a time and, after they pass, we hear their bombs dropping. All clear came at 12.05.
Later in the day, I looked out into my garden. The flowers were still blooming, the roses and clematis looking beautiful in the sunlight, the cosmos waving in the breeze.
It was almost unbelievable that such devilry had gone on the night before and that these lovely things still remained.
This diary was donated to the Redbridge Museum Service by Frank and Barbara Everett.
- David Martin is co-founder of the Fairlop Heritage Group (fairlopplaintimes.com).
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