My mum was 10 when the war started. She was brought up in London, her dad had served in the first world war, leaving a wife and four children under five behind. He became a fire warden in world war two.
Her mum took in washing to supplement the income. She didn't speak to three of her sons for a week as they signed up rather than wait for conscription in WWII - having seen a husband off to war she was in no hurry to see her sons off to another one and couldn't forgive them for putting themselves in harms way rather than wait to be told to go.
Mum was evacuated to the country but brought back by her brothers when they discovered the family she was evacuated to were treating her badly. She slept on the underground platform in her area of London during the Blitz which left her with a fear of rats and claustrophobia. Imagine being eleven years old, hearing bombs going off above you and wondering if you'd be able to get out of the underground 'tomb' you were sleeping in?
Her sister's family was wiped out by a direct hit - her sister survived miraculously, the only one of four that got out. My mum's brother was the best friend of my aunt's husband (his BIL). He went to the emergency area to identify the body, couldn't find him. So he went back with his dad (my granddad). Who identified him by his wedding ring - the rest of him was unrecognisable. Apparently, and not surprisingly, my uncle passed out with shock.
My mum's school was shut down for three months at the beginning of the war, then she was evacuated, then came back and her school was bombed (luckily whilst it was shut). She was educated in a teacher's living room for months along with a few others until they got the school running again (shored up and with bombed out areas still in place).
Rationing was tight. Even when mum got married in the early 50s her wedding cake was three tiers high but only the top tier was real - and that had contributions of butter and sugar from family and neighbours in it! The queue we have for the supermarket was one they had to do and repeat for each shop - so butchers, then grocers, then greengrocers. Nothing under one roof.
Mum remembered a German plane machine gunning the street coming from her school and parents throwing children into doorways, then throwing themselves on top - the people living in the street opening doors and dragging people inside.
But it wasn't all doom and gloom. Mum tells stories of parties (impromptu ones with her sister on piano and rugs rolled up), trips to the beach, her brothers lining their sisters up on the table top to draw the 'stocking' line down the back on their legs so it looked like they were wearing stockings - one sister decided to use gravy browning to look 'tanned' and got chased home by local dogs!
It did leave mental scars - my mum's claustrophobia, my aunt developed agoraphobia, another eventually had a nervous breakdown. My teacher was a prisoner of war with the Japanese and would dive under the table if he heard a door slam at school...
they went through this for six years - not six weeks or six months. However, the difference is that they could get out and things did change - there would be lulls in bombings, changes in how the war itself was going etc. They could socialise, cinemas stayed open for example. My aunt losing her husband and his sister and brother in that bombing was awful, but the family supported her on the day she was dug out and the days that followed. She moved back in with her parents and they took care of her. That social connection made a little difference.
It's a different thing to today but I certainly admire those people - how they got out of bed sometimes over those long years I really don't know.