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THE OVALTINE YEARS
1942-1945

Having left school, youngsters were expected to pursue some kind of war work, be it factory, farm, or possibly shop work. I should have preferred to join the women’s forces if I had been old enough, but even so my parents were against this, the main reason being I hadn’t been into the world to mix with all the various types of people , they believed that I may have been impressionable!
With my father, I attended an interview at the Ovaltine Dairy Farm, Abbots Langley, Herts. About two miles from where we lived.
Abbots Langley is named in the DOOMSDAY BOOK, known in the 16th century as Abbotsley. The parish church of St Lawrence the Martyr, part of which was built in Anglo-Saxon times, later completed in the reign of the Norman Conquest.
The Ovaltine, as it is now called, was founded by a Dr George Wander, in Berne, Switzerland, who studied the pharmaceutical dietetic industry. He realised the importance of malt extract with its long lasting qualities. In 1904 the company launched a product called ‘OVOMALTINE’ {the ‘ovo’ part referring to the egg content}. The United Kingdom Company was founded in 1909 with small quantities of ‘OVOMALTINE’, and assorted pharmaceutical preparations, which was wrongly transcribed by a clerk as ‘OVALTINE’, which has since been its trade name all over the world.
In 1913, a small factory at Kings Langley, {which adjoins Abbots Langley} was opened with a staff of four girls in the packing room, and a total of twenty employees’.
There was scant growth during the First World War, but in the years between 1924-1929 the main factory buildings were built, employing between six to seven hundred people in various departments.
The Company had a quarter of a mile frontage on the Grand Union Canal, on the factory site of eleven acres. Until the 1950’s, fuel for the Ovulating factory was transported by barge {narrow boats} from the midlands. The company owned several pairs of these boats, in fact from 1926 until the late 50’s, a dozen pairs of barges were used to deliver coal.
The very last delivery was on April 14th 1959, by the barge pair Mimas and Enid.
During the 1930’s and 40’s, Ovaltine became a regular bedtime drink for Wartime Britain, thought as the ‘internal central heating! ‘
During 1929, Wander also bought ‘Numbers Farm’ at Kings Langley, and ‘Parsonage Farm’ at Abbots Langley. Together these two properties became the Ovaltine Egg Farm, and the ‘Ovaltine’ Dairy Farm. Known as ‘Model’ farms these produced eggs, milk, and barley for the malt, used to manufacture Ovaltine.
The attractive farm buildings on Parsonage Farm were built as a replica of the farm built by the French king, Louis XV1 for his mistress Marie Antoinette. Even in wartime these buildings and the modern way in which the farm was worked, together with the prize winning pedigree jersey herd of cattle, imported from the Channel Isles, were often visited by well known dignitaries, also open to students from the Royal Agricultural Colleges, Woman’s institutes, foreign firms and the like.
The buildings were in a circular form, around a show piece courtyard complete with a water fountain. The walls were white, with black timber framed, Tudor-like design. Roofing was thatch. Inner walls were black and white tiled, which had to be scrubbed daily, along with the tiled floors, as the local mains water was very hard, and had the effect of leaving a heavy lime deposit, which had to be chipped off regularly. This was an important chore, even in those wartime days, keeping up the image of an important firm. Ovaltine was vital to the war effort for its soothing effect, and helping to boost the countries morale.
The Ovaltine Egg Farm was one of the finest in the country, built entirely on the idea of Wander. The only breed kept was White Leghorns with a laying flock of 50,000 pullets. The chicks were hatched in a 10,000 egg electrically heated incubator. There was a complete absence of smell in the Model Poultry Farm.
There were line upon line of black and white poultry houses in six broad avenues, lined by apple trees, shading the runs, and surrounded with preserved oaks and patches of woodland.
The farm manager accepted me to commence work as a Dairy maid. His daughter, who was dividing her work between office and dairy, would partly train me.
I spent almost a year in the dairy, which included weighing and recording the amount of milk each cow gave, as the milker bought the milk up. Each animal was named with its long pedigree name, on the sheet, and the cow’s milk butter fat content was also tested.
I hankered to be allowed to the milking parlour, so another dairy ‘maid’ was employed in my place. She had been a Court dressmaker in London before the war - therefore she was not exactly in her youth!
My job was to help another land girl, who was also from London, in the Show Cattle Pens, which was situated on one side of the circular building. In our charge were four show cows, eight calves, and two bulls.
We also had to hand milk at least six to eight cows twice a day, as there were between forty five and fifty cows in milk. These were bedded down in the stalls during the winter, except on very nice days, but when out in the paddocks; they were led in two by two by their collars.
The show cows had to be milked three times daily, and each of us had to take it in turns, to attend to that, about 8.P.M. Some weeks we worked 60 plus hours, especially during the summer. We had one half day off per week, with one weekend every four weeks. A ‘weekend’ meant from one p.m. Saturday until six thirty Monday morning.
On a Saturday morning, everyone set to so that we finished grinding the fodder, either kale, mangles, chaff etc as quickly as possible. We didn’t go back to lodgings or home for breakfast. Everyone buckled to so that we might finish the chores by midday! We weren’t worried whose weekend off it was - we were all pals!
On Tuesday evenings, we girls used to meet on a bus travelling to Waterford junction, about 6.15pm, to catch the Bakerloo train to Wembley, to spend the evening ice-skating at the stadium. Then it was back on the 10pm train, and last bus from Watford. Of course it was all in the blackout in the winter, but these outings gave us an opportunity to relax and have a bit of fun. We also met up to go to the cinema in Watford - I used to go twice every week, I loved the pictures! In those days the two largest cinemas had an organ which arose from the depths, below the screen, and the most popular tunes of the day were played, during the interval. Terrific!
During the summer, despite being wartime, cattle were shown, including the Bulls, at various venues. The press also took photos at the farm. Jersey Bulls are renowned for their ferociousness, and cannot be trusted.
My companion and I had to keep these two bulls and their pens clean. Even though they had nose rings and chains on, they were allowed quite a lot of movement.
We had the chore of scraping the lime off those tiled walls, as I explained earlier. My work mate remarked she intended to have a go at the tiles in front of one of these bulls. I told her not to be so crazy! Anyway, up she went to the front of the bull with her bucket and scraper. Down went the bulls head, and up she went to the ceiling, sitting on his horns!! {The cattle had not then been dehorned}
I just collapsed laughing; I was helpless and couldn’t do a thing! Luckily for her, the bull must have been as startled as she was, for he put her down ever so gently, then turned round and gave me a Wild - eyed stare !!
She came stumbling to his rear and out of the pen, never to approach again beyond the safety of the urinal gutter!
In 1943 I was asked to deputise for the Ovaltine maid at shows and functions, and spent time at the Ovaltine Factory in Kings Langley, dressed in the costume with a basket of eggs, a sheaf of wheat, and holding a tin of Ovaltine.
The Ovaltine Dairy Maid which was pictured on the tins, were first used over 50 years ago. There have been several Ovaltine girls from 1929. The early wartime maid was a fashion model, or mannequin as they were called then, named ‘Gloria’. She was well known through films and marketing. Unfortunately, her fiancé, who was a fighter pilot, was, killed, and she committed suicide. A sad end and tragedy of war.
The Ovaltine also owned a small stud, nearby which raised Percheron Horses. The chap in charge of delivering the kale etc to the farm throughout the year, was a middle aged Carter. He also attended shows and would turn up for me with a highly polished wagon, a pair of horses, complete with gleaming brass, and off we would go if the show was local, such as Cassiobury Park. I would be sitting on top of the wagon load of wheat straw, dressed up,promoting Ovaltine. If the venue was further afield, I travelled in the horse box.
For part of the time while I was at the farm, the Army used to drop off German P.O.W.’s to help out with the extra jobs. We were not supposed to fraternise, which we didn’t, but none of us could be downright rude, when these young men smiled and bid us ‘GOTEN MORGEN’.
One day an Army Officer asked to see me at the farm, and began to question me about a letter, which had been addressed to ‘the girl with the twinkling eyes’!{ I wonder why they came to me?}. I stressed I was completely innocent of any knowledge of the letter, and I hadn’t become friendly with any prisoner.
Anyway I was kept under observation for a while, and I noticed the P.O.W. in question, {who I found out was a certain fair-haired youngman who always smiled at me} had disappeared. I heard no more about it, and knew everyone believed me. I was a true patriot, but it was rather disconcerting at the time.
During the 1930’s Wander Company {Ovaltine} became involved in Broadcasting on Radio Luxemburg. ‘The League of Ovaltineys’ was formed. Members were expected to follow a code of conduct and moral principles.
The opening song every week was ‘We are the Ovaltineys, Happy girls and Boys’etc. Also ‘Happy days are here again’. There were riddles, a serial, coded messages and of course the weekly advertisement for Ovaltine. The presenters were known as Uncles and Aunts.
With the outbreak of war the show came virtually to an end. It was revived in 1946, but its popularity had waned.
I used to enjoy listening every week, but was not a member. Little did I know I would be so involved with the Ovaltine in later years?
Doodle Bugs, and Flying Bombs {V.I’s} flew over London and the Home Counties during the later part of the war. I was just setting off home for lunch on my bike one day, when I heard this low roar, and immediately knew what it was, so flung myself and my bike down on the ground, as the motor cut out almost overhead. It came down in one of the paddocks quite near the farm buildings, and blew out a number of windows. It left a fair sized crater in the field.
My Mother said she heard the crew screaming as the plane passed over the house; it was on fire, and almost touched houses and trees.
I immediately climbed over our garden fence, through the cherry orchard, to the field where the plane had crashed. It had lopped the top off an old oak tree, the wreckage was scattered over the entire area, as were human remains.
The explosion had caused a great deal of debris to be blown up into the topmost branches of the cherry trees.
While I was stunned looking at the scene, the R.A.F. appeared with a large tarpaulin. At that point I returned home.
To this day, that trunk of the tree remains just as it was on that fateful afternoon.
An accident that happened one lunch time on my way home landed me in the Canadian Military Hospital, I’d hung my jacket over the handlebars of my bike; it had slipped into the front wheel going down a hill. The consequence was, I went over the top and slid down the hill on my bare arms and face.
Luckily there wasn’t much traffic about, so I managed to pick myself up and stagger to the hospital sentry box by the entrance, which was quite near by-well actually about 1/4 mile.
I was in quite a state, no skin on either arm, half my face skinned, a deep two inch gash in my chin, and left eye injured, and various other cuts and bruises. The Canadian Doctor admitted me to the woman’s ward, whose patients were all Canadian forces. There I had to stay for ten days,-the medical staff would not let me have a mirror for almost a week, and my father did not quite recognise me at first, as my face swelled like a football, and went black and blue. I also lost half my lovely teeth.

I was amazed when the Canadian Red Cross visited the ward and left a pile of goodies at my bedside, including cigarettes, chocolate etc. She must have thought I’d just returned from the theatre of war in Europe, as most of the others had.
The male military patients had to wear their ‘BLUES ‘and keep within certain bounds, until they returned to duty.
Another time, I fell off a horse belonging to the office land girl. Her horse SMOKEY bolted with me through Abbots Langley High Street one evening. I did a ‘Woopsie’ and landed in the middle of the road, splitting my skull open at the back. This happened almost outside the doctor’s surgery, which was handy, as he phoned for an ambulance and off I went to the Peace Memorial Hospital at Watford. Again, it was quite nasty and my head bled for three days, and I was off work for three weeks, and then wasn’t allowed to bend down for ages.
I was threatened with the sack if I didn’t calm down. The farm manager was really cross, although of course none of it was intentional! Whether he would have carried out the threat, I’m not sure as when I had been at the farm in the early days, I had ‘lived in’ with them as family for some time, as my mother had been in hospital. I had also been his daughters chief bridesmaid, at her wedding. He was more like a second father really. The outcome of that episode was a bill for the ambulance and hospital treatment, which I had to pay!
Cycling to work, I passed a pub which more often than not had a notice pinned on its door:-
NO BEER
NO STOUT
FED UP
GONE OUT!

Sometimes along with the other land girls, I had lunch at the British Restaurant in Abbots Langley. I would be a pretty good meal for one shilling.
The Butcher in the village would often save me offal to take home, which was useful. Manual workers were allowed 8oz of cheese per week also.
At the farm, I often dipped my finger in the Molasses {Treacle} barrel, which was mixed with steaming hop husks from Benskins Brewery at Watford, for the cattle feed.
I also liked the linseed oil calf nuts, and every day I drank a glass of jersey milk- unbeknown to everyone! That was strictly Taboo!
A Freind of mine was quite an adventurous person, so on one of my weekends off, we decided to cycle to COOKHAM-ON-THAMES, hire a punt, and sleep on it moored to the bank. The punts had tarpaulins which rolled over the upright iron roof hoops at night. Imagine doing that these days! Our ‘punting’ consisted of going round in circles! Actually, it was an enjoyable weekend, but I’ve known better comfort!
The war was drawing to a close, so most of the land girls made preparations for civilian life again. When V.E. Day came, the folk in our avenue organised a VICTORY DANCE and tea party for all the children. A huge bonfire was built in the field, and a band hired. It was a marvellous afternoon and evening, we all danced and sang.
I remained at the Ovaltine farm for another six months, but it wasn’t the same with all the young people gone. I felt quite depressed, so decided to leave and travel a little.
Having consulted the ‘FARMERS WEEKLY’, I obtained a job in Looe, Cornwall, on a mixed farm.
I had thoroughly enjoyed my years at the Ovaltine, despite the hard work and long hours, but felt it was time to move on.

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