大象传媒

"The end of an era"I thought,as the sad news came of Harry`s passing.That was the end of my childhood experience.It was hard to imagine that I would never stay in that house again after fifty two years of being my home! Never to walk up that garden path lined with tall sunflowers,hear the babbling brook running by the small cottage, entering through an ever open door which led into the front room gleaming with brass ornaments. No more to be welcomed by those smiling faces.Mrs Cook,Ruby and Harry.All gone!They played an important role in my life through the errors of war!
We were a very poor family living in the east end of London.I was born in Islington.My parents named me Alice after an aunt of mine who had died of cancer.It seemed I had rickets as a baby and ended up in Carshalton hospital for a year.Afterwards I stayed with an aunt from Chingford to recuperate. This early part of my life is pretty vague but was to become most memorable.
Mum and Dad had five children at the time `war broke out`.We lived in a three bedroomed flat in Homerton opposite Hackney marshes.A dreary existence with the smoke,the poverty and the dismal blocks of flats towering above us
The time for our evacuation came in 1940.I remember over my shoulder was a gas mask in a cardboard box and a label pinned to my coat.Paddington station was
seething with amassed children and parents.The hissing steam train remains vividly in my mind.I was being evacuated with my elder sister.Saying goodbye to my Mother seems to have escaped me.We had never seen a train let alone rode in one.our destination was unknown so we must have felt very confused not knowing what lay ahead.So off we went to God knows where!
The actual journey is a blur and all I can remember
is being placed in a cottage somewhere in the west country.Our gaurdians were Mrs Cook,Ruby and Harry.They had no children so we would be a challenge to them!
"Are we going home tomorrow?" I said to my sister Rene. She probably fobbed me off with some feeble answer which I cannot recall.
This quaint, primitive cottage with oil lamps, candles,no running water or bath,an outside toilet,which was a wooden seat suspended over a brook was puzzling to me.Water was drawn from a tap at the end of the lane .I can see myself staggering ,red faced,carrying gulvernised pails of liquid.We would carry a candle up to bed to light our way to the pitch black eerie bedroom.The only consolation was to climb into a soft feather bed and sink into oblivion.On waking the extra perk of hearing the birds singing in full throttle and the cock crowing(something quite foreign to me).
We settled into our billet after a few weeks quite nicely and were being taught a new way of life. We were being reared in a proper manner to mind our P`S and Q`s;taking our shoes off before going upstairs;asking to leave the table;curing me of not staring at people and many more. In spite of all the little disciplines,a sense of belonging was surrounding us.
Mrs Cook was a lovely lady with long grey hair twisted into a bun and fastened with hairpins(later I was to play with her hair and clumsily stick the pins into her scalp) I had a fascination for meddling with hair(hence the longing to be a hairdresser when I grew up)
Ruby was Mrs Cook`s daughter. She was very and fussy. Everything had to be in it`s place but she was a super cook and very sweet.
Harry was mostly away fighting the war butcame home on odd occasions.His kit bag always interested me and was always curious to know of the contents.I recall the night he came home with his bag slung over his shoulder and waking us all up I can still visualise Mrs Cook sitting sitting up in bed downing a glass of whiskey in the middle of the night.So exciting!
We fitted in quite nicely after becoming accustomed to a different life style entirely.So the feeling of security and warmth was ours.The attachment of belonging grew.
Every day we walked a mile to school passing the cemetary where they all are now. The school was a building made of Wedmore stone and covered with creeping ivy.Our classes were made with children of different ages.The headmaster was a little perverted(so I look back and understand)He passed away a few years ago.
My Mother wrote to us now and again.She wasn`t very good at letter writing and was bogged down with the war.Father suffered with ill health and now they had had two more children. Jean died of a tumour of the brain at nine months old while Ronnie the youngest now and Ann stayed with Mum and Dad all through the blitz. The others were all evacuatd in different parts of the country.As for us we were not aware of the happenings in London. Well protected from the bombings and attrocitiesn were oblivious of such things.The warmth and comfort of a country life made us unrealizing to any other.
Many relations of Mrs Cooks died while we were there and they were not very pleasant times but life went on as usual.
When I look back my sister and I delighted in the simpler things of life.Going to bluebell wood where my fairies lived was the highlight of the day;picking blackberries with our little lace-up boots on and carrying big wicker baskets and a crook;painting,writing and reading;long country walks on Sundays.All these things we loved!

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