Our life on Randall Street was far from monotonous. The daily chores were the same, but times and events were changing rapidly, with too much this-that.
At the time, the telephones were still working, so lots of calls came in. Our boss was talking to his people, exchanging news and opinions, commenting on BBC news, asking for advice, directing people and telling them what to do. One evening the phone rang, he picked it up, listened and fell into deep silence. We all gathered around him in the sitting room, waiting to hear what made him lose voice. He was telling someone at the other end to try and reach our building if he could, we would be ready to open the gate if at all he made it. He put the phone down and looked at us. Silence reigned for a few moments, then he started talking with visible effort...
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