- Contributed by听
- Isle_Of_Man
- People in story:听
- Anne Alexander
- Location of story:听
- Port Erin, Isle of Man
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A4847213
- Contributed on:听
- 07 August 2005
I was born just before the start of the war, in Port Erin, Isle of Man, and lived just outside the internment camp. We needed a permit to go in and out of the Village. The barrier was manned by policemen. One of my mother's friends owned a donkey and she used to put her daughter Frances on its back then made ride her bicycle with a leading rein on the donkey. They lived down at Causey Bay and would ride up to our home on Castletown Road where I would climb on behind Frances and the two mothers would ride their bikes with 'Gwennie' trotting along. All would go well until we reached the barrier. Unfortunately Gwennie hated men and she took exception to the policemen, reared up and threw us onto the road. This caused quite a stir but from then on when our little cavalcade was seen to approach the gate was opened and we were waved through like royalty.
We would then go down to Port Erin beach by the Cosy Nook and the donkey would graze behind the wall there while we played and then had a picnic. I can remember that Mrs Pearson at Cosy Nook would send out 'beach trays' of tea for us. At home we had internees billeted next door and one lady, Lena, became a family friend / nanny / gardener. She had been a translator at the Foreign Office but not naturalised so was interned. Our friendship with Lena went on after the war by correspondence and at least one visit. The internees made toys and knitted clothes which were sold in the Red Cross shop. I had two dolls made on padded wire frames of which I was very fond. Sadly they were thrown out years ago but they were works of art.
Port Erin was a very busy place with the internees walking around. They had allotments where the Police Station is now. Most people wore wooden clogs made with a strap over the foot and round the ankle. We wore thick socks made of Manx wool to protect our feet. The streets were noisy with the sounds of the clogs clip clopping along.
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