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A few notes to go with my story ‘Good comes from evil’
It was very early on Friday 1st September 1939, my School (Mora Road N. London) met. One thing I can remember was our gas masks around our necks, I know I was rather disappointed as I was just too old to have a Mickey Mouse one. We also had to wear a large buff luggage label bearing our name. When everyone had assembled we set off on Evacuation order to Cricklewood Station, and boarded a train to Bedford, quite an adventure for many of us. We made a short walk to Bedford High Street where we were each given a brown paper bag with various items of groceries, I can remember there was a bar of chocolate and an orange, unfortunately I had to hand over my bag to my home mother, that was the last I saw of my bag. We then all boarded a bus which was to take us to various villages I went to Elstow. We were taken to the village school and allowed to play in the sand pit. At first I didn’t take any notice that one by one the children from the sand pit were taken away. It was not until there were only a handful of us left that I began to wonder where everyone had gone. I wasn’t unduly worried as I was thoroughly enjoying myself. Many years later I realized what must have been happening. People were allowed to choose their evacuees. Many wanted strong youngsters able to help out on the farm or around the house. I possibly was too skinny to be of much use. By evening everyone seemed to have been billeted. My first billet I can remember very little, but my second billet two things that stick in my memory, first was the toilet this was outside not uncommon for this village, but this one happened to be at least 30 metres down a very dark path, I don’t mind saying I was terrified when I had to go to the toilet when dark. My second point each Saturday I went with the man of the house by horse and trap to Bedford to a pig market, this I quite liked, this possibly is the reason for many years after I drew pigs. On our return without fail we sat down to bubble and squeak and lemon curd tart. I still haven’t a real liking for bubble and squeak. My third billet I can’t remember a lot other that there seemed to be a bit of jealousy with their daughter and so I seemed to be in the way. One thing I do remember I was taught how to knit. What can I say about my fourth billet other than what I have already mentioned in my first note. It was a home
however that turned my life around. A very strict home but one of real love.
This fourth billet was on the village green, surrounded by farm land and lovely countryside, which as the years went by I felt - what a difference to the City of London where I spent my earlier years. Although I now live in London I still love the Country particularly the village where I lived for 18 years and still visit from time to time.
I should like to add, London Evacuees were not too popular with many of the village folk, even with some of the teachers it was quite obvious that we were second best, which as you got older became quite hurtful. Perhaps I can now understand with regards the billets, it must have been quite difficult in their tiny homes that suddenly their homes were turned upside down. One last thing, I was really bullied at school because I was so skinny along with being an evacuee without a proper home and right through the war I had to wear special ‘In care’ clothes which meant I was different to everyone else.
June Stillman

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