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World War ll London Blitz:  Buy On Smashwords
I am the great-granddaughter of Ruby Side Thompson. 
Recently I started re-reading the World War ll journals and felt that they were such an important part of a history that will soon be forgotten if not published and shared with the world. These diary excerpts are not the entirety of what is published in print and kindle.
Ruby grew up during a time when education was just beginning to be encouraged for both upper and middle class women. During the late 1890's Ruby explored many radical political ideas of London, England. She met many famous people including the writers George Bernard Shaw and William Butler Yeats. 
5.0 out of 5 stars A choice pick, not to be overlooked, November 6, 2011 By Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA)

World War ll London Blitz: 12-10-40 Last Sunday night we had the worst bombing that has happened in this town yet. South Street, North Street, London Road, Old Church Road, the Market Place, very much damage done.

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December 10, 1940
Artie came on the twenty-fifth and left again the following Monday, a week ago. We had a quiet time, on the whole, whilst he was here, though we received a bad bombing on Friday, November twenty-ninth. Then things were fairly quiet again, with no alert at all throughout Saturday night last, the seventh of December. Sunday also was a quiet day, but last Sunday night we had the worst bombing that has happened in this town yet. South Street, North Street, London Road, Old Church Road, the Market Place, very much damage done. Also the Telephone Exchange demolished, operations buried in the debris, awful! Our old section near Westwood practically completely demolished. The number of casualties is not yet known.
Then yesterday was quiet, and a quiet night again last night, quiet so far today, but what will happen tonight?
It is four p.m. and Miss Coppen has just been in. She only came back from Devon a week ago and arrived home in time for Sunday’s slaughter. Happily there was no serious damage in her locality this time. She had only to endure the noise, and the fear, of course.
This morning I was writing letters to America. The censor returned a long letter I wrote to Jim and Doris, November eighteenth, to me a few days later, also parts of a letter I wrote to Harold. It seems no information about times and places of air raids must be mentioned to anyone abroad; it might help the enemy! This is sheer nonsense. The enemy knows what he has done, anyhow. Further how can he possibly get hold of the mails? Further what good would it do him to know the names of the obscure suburban streets on which his bombs fall? Especially when the news is weeks old? Oh, the silly censorship!

December 13, 1940
Saw the town. The devastation is tremendous, but everywhere workman are clearing up, boarding up the broken windows and renewing shop fronts with planks and beaverboard. There isn’t a piece of glass left from Latham’s Corner to the Romeo at Raynham Road. Exchange Place, where the biggest bomb fell, is one indescribable heap of rubbish, which looks as though it could never be cleared up.
One curious thing I noticed in the town, and that was a sense of exhilaration. The streets were as crowded as usual, but people looked more alive than usual, sort of excited. There was no gloom. Everybody seemed to be smiling, ready to chatter and laugh. It’s as though the town knows it has suffered the worst, and now it says, let them all come! We don’t care a damn!
December 15, 1940
Ted is playing for High Mass. I just want to say, I’m happy. No reason, just happy. Perhaps it is a general feeling everywhere that the tide of fortune has changed, at last we are beginning to win the war. There has been a terrific defeat of the Italians in Egypt this week. This morning’s report says we have taken over thirty thousand Italian prisoners in Egypt, with all the tanks, guns, equipment, and supplies. The Greeks too continue to beat the Italians in Albania. It’s heroic. Then, besides, Petain has forced Laval to resign from the French cabinet, and this morning’s report is that Laval has been placed under arrest. At least this means that French public opinion is changing. Maybe the French are recovering from their defeatism.
The day is cold and frosty. We had a good sleep last night. No warnings yet since that all clear which sounded at eight-thirty p.m. last night. Ted slept upstairs in bed, but I remained down here in the dining room. I don’t think I shall ever be able to stay upstairs ’til the war is over. Had a good sleep just the same. When Ted went out to church, had a good bath by the fire, and dressed in my new Jaeger combs. Also put on two new plasters. Altogether I’m feeling very comfortable and very fit. Now I am going to cook the dinner. Actually have a piece of beef today, two pounds fourteen ounces of rump. This is marvelous. Beginning tomorrow the meat ration is to be reached again. Anyhow, here’s roast beef for today. Oh the roast beef of Old England, and Oh the Old English roast beef! That’s a song that was always mixed up with the Christmas carols when I was a child. So long!
December 20, 1940
A bad raid this morning, which frightened me considerably anyhow. I am in a very depressed frame of mind. Ted is on my nerves most frightfully. He talks and he talks, such drivel, and I’m so bored. My constant judgment on Ted is that he’s a silly fool. He talks such rubbish, about the war, and about religion, or, rather, about Catholicism. He’s so fanatical and so puerile, oh my God; I do get so weary of him.
Yes, I’m tired, tired of the house, tired of the husband, tired of myself, and damnably tired of the war. I want ease and love and laughter. I’m tired of the glooms, sick to death of war.
December 23, 1940
We had a bad night again last night, but I notice I am not as frightened as I used to be, which shows one can get used to anything. I also notice I don’t pray anymore. Why? Is it because I am convinced God doesn’t care, so why bother Him? Or is it because I am so fed up with Ted’s religiosity that I am drained of all religion? Or because I am so disgusted with all the religious piffle, which is so interlude in the BBC programs, I feel I cannot add an iota of my own to what I have to receive from the air?
Ted was talking last night about what the world might be after the war, and saying that the Pope ought to be asked to the conference table for the peace. Ted thinks the Pope the most important man in the world. The world doesn’t think so. After all, our ancestors fought bloody wars to throw the Pope out of politics, so I hardly think statesmen will take him by the hand and invite him back into politics today. Besides, he is an Italian. I don’t think any Italian will ever be asked for his advice in the administration of democracies.
Well, I must write my letters, so Au-Revoir.

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