There was an Observation Balloon Station in Hazelbury Road on the Huxley estate where I lived in Edmonton, north London. It was next to the Latymer School. We children never understood what the balloons were for. They seemed to be stationary in the sky with ropes attached to them and were not unlike the German Zeppelins, although of course much smaller. On the way back from Sunday School we would go and look at the soldiers stationed there, lining up for their Sunday dinner [lunch], each carrying a knife, fork and spoon.
I was at school the day that peace was declared, and we children were sent home for a half day's holiday. Shortly afterwards people in our road, Lopen Road, began to organise a street peace party.
It was a time of celebration for some, but not for the families whose menfolk would not come home. As I write, I think of Harry Lauder, who was a well-known Scottish comedian. He started as a coal miner, but his gift of song and humour attracted attention, particularly in London, and around 1920 he was knighted. He too had a son who did not come home after WW1, and it was said that King George V admired him for the song he sang afterwards:
"Keep right on to the end of the road."
Harry Lauder was well-known, but ordinary people who were unknown suffered the same loss and knew the same heartache. My grandmother lost her son, Arthur Ewens, and my aunt lost her fiancee.
See also the pages about air raids, the wounded soldiers at Edmonton Military Hospital and the explosions at the munitions factory.