大象传媒

As a seven year old, war was something completely unknown. It was a mystery where adults were expected to have answers and I, for one such child of the time, had complete confidence in my parents, yet wholly unaware of the terrible decisions they were having to take. Of their feelings, watching us go, one can only guess. We were evacuated to Yorkshire.

My landlady was the farmer's wife, and not too pleased to have me. I realised she had hoped for a strong able youngster. She got me; wrong age; wrong sex! My bed was the same bed that the maid slept in. I was in her room. She pinched me in bed. She also had to give me my weekly bath, which was at least novel as the water was fetched from the scullery, tipped into a wooden tub in front of the kitchen fire. I do remember warm towels and the smell of palmolive soap.There was no bathroom. The toilet was down the garden path opposite the cow shed. It was just a hole in the ground with newspaper for toilet paper.

This story was submitted to the People's War website by Helena Noifeld and has been added to the website on behalf of Gwendoline Ardley with her permission. She fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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