Most of my childhood was spent on the St Helier Estate in Carshalton, wrote Dave Edwards. I remember well growing up during the Second World War years on the estate where I lived with my mother and sister, except for a very short time spent with my grandparents in South Wales.

Some of the things that stand out in my mind are the skylines dotted with barrage balloons, the sound of the sirens and of course the old Anderson Shelter.

A couple of years ago I was fortunate enough to visit the estate (I have lived in New Zealand over forty years) and while visiting friends was shown their fish pond, originally the foundation for the Anderson Shelter, it was so small.

We often used to share our neighbours' shelter during air raids, and when I think back to those days there must have been seven or eight people in there at times.

It must have been terribly difficult and stressful for my mother in those dark days, having to look after two children and worrying about my father who was overseas with the army.

The seriousness of the war meant little to a seven year old. I remember being chastised by my mother once for being naughty. I said to her in response, 'I hope your house gets blown down.'

The next morning, after an air raid, our front room windows were blown out, glass and debris littered the room, and my mother said to me, 'See what has happened after what you said to me yesterday.'

It made a big impression on me I can tell you, for I never said anything like that again.

After the war we continued to live in the same house in Middleton Road. My father had returned home and was employed as a bus driver on the 151 route.

We would amuse ourselves by constructing scooters and trolleys, using discarded ball bearings for wheels. We would travel miles on them, going as far as Croydon airport; but we always carried a hammer and a few nails to carry out any necessary repairs. The constant click clacking over the flagstones must have really annoyed local residents.

A popular pastime with the boys in the early fifties was push bike speedway. I remember a track was set up on the recreation ground opposite the St Helier Hospital, and it had a good following too, as I remember.

Fairly close to the bike track were the old disused air raid shelters, as I recall, partly buried in the ground. The entranceways were boarded up although entry wasn't difficult for us kids.

One day while down in the shelter somebody decided to make a flaming torch, the idea to find our way around in the dark. It wasn't long before a disused bunk was set alight. The fire spread from bunk to bunk.

Looking back I'm surprised no one was injured, trapped or even killed. I don't recall the fire brigade being called; it must have been left to burn out. Those shelters (most certainly the underground sections) will still be there and I suspect the charred remains from our fire too.

We would often go to Ravensbury Park or the Grove for a treat and would at times go fishing in the River Wandle, close to the tanneries, where we would catch our redthroats and sticklebacks which we put in a jam jar and took home.

Of course they would always die at home, although I do remember though having some success with tadpoles and seeing them eventually turn into frogs.

One thing that does stick in my mind was the annual outing to Littlehampton. There was an organization called the 'Carshalton and Wallington Children's Outing Association' or a name similar to that.

Each year they would organise the outing to Littlehampton, and on arrival we would be given a cut lunch and a number of complimentary tickets you could use at the fun fair.

It was always popular and well supported, and a large number of charabancs were used on the day. I always looked forward to going on those trips to the seaside; those outings were really special to all of us kids.

For us, the 'St. Helier Arms' was a popular playing spot; we spent a lot of time there that must have been of annoyance to the publican. A favourite pass time was to use a penny to drill holes into the bricks, the idea was to retrieve the brick dust and use it to polish up the old Victorian copper pennies.

Sadly, the St. Helier Arms is no more, now just a memory of days gone by. I have attached a photo of the St Helier Arms; it will be bound to bring back memories for a lot of folk.

Dave Edwards, Christchurch, New Zealand, 2001