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My parents visited me about twice a month, and quite often, my mother on her own. This journey from Plymouth to Edgcumb was at that time in 1941 quite horrendous. (The road signs had been removed to confuse the enemy in the event of an invasion). It entailed walking to the bus stop at Laira en route for the city centre. A walk to North Road station, a train to Truro, a change of train at Penryn, a no 21 bus from Penryn to Rame Cross, and then a walk of approximately one mile to no1 Retanna; and this in all weathers. I would be eagerly awaiting their arrival outside the house, usually swinging on the big 5-barred gate, ready to rush up to them when I saw them coming around the corner, feeling very excited. They would arrive at about mid-day, and would have to leave again about 3.00pm for the return journey to Plymouth. Aunty Em, in the Cornish Fashion, always prepared a most wonderful dinner for them, but the time spent with my parents seemed to go very quickly. Of course, there were tears, and I always felt very homesick for a few hours after they had left. I did worry in my young mind about mum and dad being in Plymouth during the air-raids, especially in the night when Aunty Em would stand by me on my bedroom window sill to watch the glow in the sky over Plymouth, which could be clearly seen from approximately 70miles away at Penryn. Nevertheless, I did so miss Plymouth and the hustle and bustle. I also missed my friends, the shops and the seaside, but evacuees often returned to Plymouth for short intervals during the school holidays. There were always more bombed houses, bomb craters, devastation and losses on each return visit to the city.

At first the evacuees who had been in my coach (and incidentally, there were quite a few from Laira Green School) attended the local Halwin School, and so I left the house with June and her friends at about 7.45am. This entailed a walk of about three miles across open fields, to and from school, in all weathers. Because Wellington boots had not been included in our list of essential equipment, I was loaned a pair of June’s old boots. These did fit me as I was quite a bit smaller than her, and I usually ended up wearing her hand-me-downs. Wellingtons were essential to cope with muddy lanes, fields and the dung! The Cornish children were not afraid of any of the animals, but I was petrified of the pigs and bulls, so I ended up in the middle of the group of children during our long walk, much to their amusement.

Halwin School was certainly not able to cope with hoards of evacuees who descended upon this area. I remember it being terribly overcrowded, and so after about a week, the authorities obviously had no option but to open the village halls, and so it was that I ended up in Edgcumb Church Hall with Miss Retallick, who taught a large group of us across a wide age range. At no time did I even suspect I missed out on my education, and we seemed to be having all the usual lessons, many of them at the back of the church in the graveyard, because it was a really hot summer.

Sunday was a very important day, as it seemed that the entire village turned up to the Methodist Church on no less than two occasions for the church services. The children also had their Sunday school in the afternoon. Sunday school Anniversaries were events that no child was allowed to miss, and I was suitably dressed up in my best frock, straw hat and whiter socks for this occasion. My hat was always a problem for me, as my large bow of hair ribbon always got in my way! I will always remember the Harvest Festival, which enabled the many farmers to excel with their abundance of vegetables and fruit. The Church services were important to the country folk and the Church was nearly always full, with everyone sitting in their own pew!

I had arrived at Edgcumb on May 5th, and so on May 8th it did not take Aunty Em very long to rig me up in a white dress with long white hair ribbons for me to include in the dancing of the Helston Floral Dance, as Helston was only five miles from Edgcumb. I had never seen so many people dancing in the streets, nor parading through the houses. This was great fun, and we constantly changed partners.

From the beginning of my evacuation with the family, I called them Aunty Em and Uncle Harry. Many of their relations lived in the vicinity of Edgcumb and on the Lizard peninsula. Most of them were farmers who also took in evacuees. Many weekends I went with the family on visits to these relatives to villages called Port Navas, Trewennack and Gweek, and Ponsanooth. These outings were exciting, as uncle Harry owed a motorbike, but rather unfortunately for me I always had to sit with Aunty Em in the sidecar. Most of the folk in Edgcumb either travelled around on a motorbike or bicycle. Petrol was severely rationed, so a family rich enough to own a car usually kept this in the garage for the duration of the war, and did not tax it.

One of my most vivid memories at this time was the weekly bath. This took up most of Friday evenings, when the wooden tub was placed in the dining room in front of the black cooking range, where June and I took our turn (using the same water). The water was heated on the primus stove and poured into the bath, and the inevitable cake of Derbac soap was rubbed all over me, including my hair. When I eventually returned to Plymouth, I insisted that my mother purchase a cake of Derbec soap, just like Aunty Em.

The only shops for the area, and where Aunty Em was rationed for her groceries and meat, were at Rame Cross, which was a two-mile round trip from the house. June and I made this journey for Aunty Em on many occasions after school. My main memory of this grocery shop was the small lemonade bottles, with the bottle tops having a little clip to press open and closed, and inside the top of the bottle was a glass marble, probably to prevent the liquid flowing out too quickly. We were allowed one bottle per week when Aunty Em did her ‘big’ shop.

Most Saturdays, June and I were taken on the no21 bus to do more general shopping to towns such as Penryn, Falmouth or even as far as Penzance. These distances seemed a long way, but the memorable event was lunch in a café.

Generally, everything was so different from my life in Plymouth. Evacuees had no option but to adapt, but the countryside was the most bewildering aspect, and just seemed to me to be a huge open space of nothing. I missed city life, which included swinging on lamp-posts on huge ropes (which incidentally the railwaymen brought home from the Laira sheds), but most importantly I missed my mummy, my daddy and my own relations. I began to get accustomed to the animals, although my most outstanding memories of this time in my life was the morning and evening collection of free-range eggs, and I learnt to milk a cow manually, and to ride a horse. The most fun was gathering in the harvest, and the building of the hayricks which was always a family affair with huge amounts of good country food.

Uncle Harry worked as a carpenter in Penryn shipyard and travelled on his motorbike daily to and from Penryn. He arrived back at Retanna at about 6.00pm, after which we all sat down together for the evening meal. Aunty Em always produced good wholesome food, together with a dessert. Her cooking was done either on top or inside a huge black coal range in the dining room, or by using a primus oil stove, which always stank of paraffin. The buns and cakes were baked almost daily in the oven part of the range, so there was a lovely coal fire for warmth all year round. (This oven range was not a new appliance to me, as my own grandmother, who lived at West Hoe in Plymouth, cooked with one). Cornish cakes were quite a delicacy, as they still are, and I remember stupidly asking my own mother if she would like to taste a piece of Aunty Em’s ‘hard’ cake instead of ‘heavy’ cake, which is still a Cornish product.

Uncle Harry kindly made me a two-tier pencil case, which I treasured for many years.

I stayed with the Pascoe’s for about a year, but I shall never forget the many kindnesses shown to me by them, and also to my parents. I will treasure the memory of the many residents of Edgcumb in 1941 and will always remember this time of my childhood with great affection. I grew to love the Pascoe family, and kept in touch with them until recent years. Sadly, they are no longer alive, but I am still in contact with June’s husband, who now lives in Wadebridge, Cornwall.

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