大象传媒

Memories of a young teacher

The night before war was declared I was on the last ferry returning to Liverpool from New Brighton with John Gregson, then playing junior parts at the Rotunda Theatre but later to star in Genevieve, the Titfield Thunderbolt etc. We were singing away and didn鈥檛 realise that we had docked and everyone else had gone until we were asked 鈥淎re you two going to sit there all night?鈥�
I was teaching in a primary school in Scotland road and we were evacuated but only to Hoylake. The mothers did not seem concerned at losing their children but looked forward to a bit of freedom! A retired nurse offered accommodation for myself and another teacher because she wanted to be able to volunteer for duties when needed. As it was so close to home the children gradually found their way back and I was recalled to teach them. I was pleased to come home as my father had been on his own, coming home to a cold house after work. For safety reasons we did not use the school building but I was allocated a room on the top floor of an old ramshackle building which didn鈥檛 feel safe at all.
My mode of transport was the bicycle and I remember my delight at being offered a boiled egg when visiting the country. I also remember arriving at dusk at a Youth Hostel full of evacuees and having to travel on alone to the next nearest one which was quite a distance away. One Hostel used to supply half crowns to block up the overflow in the bath which was deliberately positioned low down to save water. The warden used to ask for two strong young men to volunteer for an important duty. This would be the cleaning of the porridge pans!
In 1941 I met my future husband, Lionel, who came from Southampton. We were the only two people staying at a Youth Hostel near Leicester. I had lost touch with my friend who had planned to go with me because she was bombed out and had been moved to Craven Arms. I looked a sight as I was recovering from a bout of impetigo caught from my pupils. We met several more times but the trains were terrible, full of troops and never running to time. Being sick of travelling formed the basis of his offer of marriage.
Married in 1942, the only present I can recall was a carpet sweeper and my wedding dress had belonged to my sister in law. Our honeymoon was in Torquay where there was barbed wire along the beach. We lived in Bristol in a top floor flat in Clifton that had been occupied by Lionel鈥檚 cousin. We stayed there until we moved to London in 1947. As an engineer employed by Bristol Aeroplane Company, Lionel was not called up. He was a volunteer fireman. I was a messenger on my bike. (It was difficult to get a license for a car. Even my headmaster who had a bad leg had to appeal). I was supposed to report to HQ (a public house) how many had turned up for duty. In the darkness of the blackout I didn鈥檛 realise that I had entered via the Gents鈥� toilet.
My school in Bristol overlooked the river and the children would pester the sailors for oranges. Some of them had never tasted one before and bit into the peel as though it was an apple. The head had a sense of humour, he once said Oh look there鈥檚 one of Lionel鈥檚 shoes (size 12) floating down the river. Oh my mistake, it鈥檚 a barge. Another time I was talking to Lionel鈥檚 cousin鈥檚 husband who was a policeman, in the lunch break. The head came up and said 鈥淧lease don鈥檛 arrest her now Officer, she鈥檚 got a class to teach.鈥�
When the war ended the centre of Bristol was full of celebrating crowds. My friend who was pregnant didn鈥檛 fancy joining such a crush.
Frances Harris (nee Prescott)

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