A LETTER FROM LONDON

Evening Star, Issue 25300, 7 October 1944, Page 11

A LETTER FROM LONDON

[By Melanie S. Primmer. 1

Varied Shelters. We have not yet finished with pilotless bombs, which means that sheltering is still necessary. Even the sanctity of a court room is occasionally invaded, and the other day a magistrate ducked under the table, reappearing later to resume his duties. As wo walk along, ono eye is always on the alert for a suitable place to crouch into, unless, of course, brick surface shelters are in sight. The real problem in London is at night, when thousands must find a spot to get some sleep, away from the noise of " Alert " and " All Clear." It came as a welcome surprise to find that Mr Herbert Morrison had already prepared really safe sanctuaries, and that, at this moment eight deep shelters, each 100 ft below the ground, can each give shelter to 35,000 people. Sleeping accommodation is not on this lavish scale, but even so eight times 8,500 is not to be sneered at. These special areas are bomb proof, gas proof, and water proof. Dormitories hold tiers of bunks divided into sections to have families in privacy. Each has restaurants, .sick bays, and modern sanitation, with adequate staffs for general comfort. To be able to use one of these one has'to apply to the local office (for they are scattered in various parts of London), show that one has been bombed out, or give other good reason, and then, if successful, one emerges clutching the precious ticket, with the number of the berth. Unfortunately they are closed all day, and the question has now arisen how to give relief to night workers, who cannot get a restful day. In the country we look out for a handy ditch, the safest place except for a direct hit, and feel thankful that the year has been so dry that no water can add to discomfort, and loss of dignity. It is rather extraordinary to see how nervous farm stock is of the doodle-bug, long before it explodes. Cows run to the hedge and even down the dried-up pond. Blast from these gives queer results. An oak tree was completely stripped' of leaves; a wood pigeon was plucked as if for the table; inside a metal cylinder, obviously part of the flying bomb, was a dead rabbit. There was not a blade of grass in one field, yet the soil was undisturbed.

Odds and Ends. Musicians score well with doodle-bugs. While most of us listen intently, making up our minds as to whether it is one or an ordinary plane thing, they eay: "It's F sharp, so get ready to duck." And ft piano test shows that that indeed is its note.

Cockney boys are having the time of their lives. Fear is unknown to most of them, to the detriment of mothers' nerves. I understand that the latest game is to bet a mable or two as to the direction and effect. The other day I heard the siren, followed by the usual unpleasant drone, and was just making up my mind to shelter in an Odeon, when two urchins grinned up with: "It's alright ma, we'll keep watch and tell you when it's safe to go cm." Grateful grown-ups naturally give a tip, on the selfevident proposition that one tip is. worth another. ■ An old woman was killed in her room, if room one could call it; it was more like a receptacle for rubbish. She had always boasted of having seeu much better days, even to the glory of living in a six-roomed house. But that was treated by neighbours as mere boasting. Imagine the surprise of wardens when they found £I,OOO in notes under her mattress.

London Ims opened its season of oponair plays, bombs or no bombs. Last week in the middle of the drunken scene in ' Twelfth Night ' off went the alert. The actors valiantly capered and pretended that they did not hear the drone overhead; the audience, too proud to lose their dignity, just stood up, but unconsciously turned their backs on the actors and looked round to see if anyone was ducking under chairs; behind the scenes those, actors not on the stage unashamedly flopped flat on the ground. The bug passed over, and life resumed its normal course.