大象传媒

I was born in the East End of London in 1924 and enjoyed a happy childhood. We were never aware that we didn't have much - Mother always made sure we had a good meal with plenty of vegetables from the market and we probably had a healthier diet than many of todays' children.
And besides, we didn't mix with people who were any better off than us, so we didn't feel anything but normal. Except when we went to one particular aunt who only had one child compared to our family of five children. I thought they were very posh because they had fruit on the table !

When I was about 8 years old, I remember lining up outside the Bow Mission and seeing Ghandi, in his customary white attire, arriving to open the mission.

Saturday mornings were always a treat for my sister and me - we would go to 'Farthing Bundles'. This was run by a Miss Clara Grant for the benefit of the poor East End children and we had to be there at 7.30 a.m.
It cost a farthing each and the 'bundle' consisted of perhaps a ball of wool and a pair of knitting needles or a purse, and there was always a parcel of recycled birthday and Christmas cards. We would then spend hours and hours cutting these up and making different things with them. The remaining off-cuts would then be used by mother to light the copper for washing the clothes and bedding on the Monday.

Mother stayed at home to care for us and father was often out of work, so things must have been tough for them, but we were never aware of it.

Father was a staunch Labour man and as a young teenager, I would be warned on occasions not to go down the Bow Rd as Oswald Mosely would be there with his blackshirts ! What happens when you tell a teenager not to do something ? We would then make a point of going to see 'the blackshirts'.

We would spend three weeks every summer in Kent on a working holiday hop picking. This was the only time I ever saw green fields and cows and sheep. The whole family, including grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins would all go down in a lorry. We were allowed to take two tea chests with our luggage and provisions in and these would then be upturned, covered with a sheet of oil cloth and then used as a table for the duration. Mother would even take a roll of wallpaper and pin it to the walls of the hut we stayed in to make it more homely !!!

On arrival we were allocated some bales of straw and this was stuffed into mattress cases for our beds. The discomfort was never an issue - because we were on holiday !!!The days were spent in the fields, and in the evenings someone would have a mouth organ or piano accordian and there would be sing songs around the fire.

We were hop picking at the time the Battle of Britain was fought and we witnessed the dog fights between the RAF and the Luftwaffe over the Kent coast.I remember seeing a couple of planes come down, one into a nearby field, and it seems awful now how we clamoured to go and see the wreckage.

One night, in London, there was a particularly heavy air raid and we emerged from the Anderson shelter to find that half our street had taken a direct hit and been demolished. Many of our neighbours had been killed that night - and we were homeless. I can remember that mum kept saying - 'the house doesn't matter - we are safe ''.
With nothing but the clothes we stood up in, we picked our way to my grandmother's house about a mile away. After that we used my aunt's empty house - they had already been evacuated out of the city.

After 3 months my parents were really worried about our safety and so with our parents, my sister and 2 of my brothers - we left London in July 1941.
We boarded a train at Paddington Station and arrived finally at the tiny village of Saltford, between Bristol and Bath.
It felt like the worlds end to me - it was so quiet with hardly any people around compared to London.
We were met by 2 very nice WRVS ladies who took us to a beautiful old house'The Mount' , not far from the station and to us - it was very posh. There were another four London families sharing the 12 rooms and we stayed there until the end of the war.

At this point my parents were desperate to return to London to be with their friends and family, but I had met Reg, also a London evacuee (coincidentally, he had been injured in the terrible air raid that had demolished my home and was very lucky to have survived.)

I knew that I had met the man I wanted to share my life with and we decided that we wanted to stay in the country. My parents were very upset and pleaded with me to return with them - but I stayed and Reg and I got married in Keynsham church.

Here I am, 60 years on, with my own dear family and lots of good friends living in Wells. I would not change my life and have never regretted settling in Somerset.

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