There is a great story about my dad being evacuated with his older brother and sister. His sister, my auntie Joyce, decided that she had had enough of being away from her mum and dad in the East End and travelled back. It took her most of the day and she took her little brother, my dad, with her. She got back to Stepney in the late afternoon and my grandad was furious. There was not enough time to send them back, so Grandad said they could stay, but the whole family must sleep on the Anderson Shelter for the night. That night, whilst my dad, his sister and my nan and grandad were in the shelter, a german landmine parachuted down onto the opposite house, exploding and destroying nan and grandad's house. If my auntie had not decided to come home then nan and grandad would have been in the house and would certainly have been killed. As it was, they were buried in the shelter for a day or two, under the rubble of the house. My dad never told me this and died ten tears ago. My auntie relayed this story to me in Feb 09 at the funeral of the oldest brother. It's amazing to think my dad, nan, grandad and auntie went through this and moves me loads whenever I think of it. Must ge hundreds of stories like this from those days.