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BURNLEY REMEMBERED

I was eleven years old when war broke out and on a family holiday from London, where we lived, so missed being evacuated to Wales with the school I was starting that September, but my brother, aged 16, re-joined his in Ipswich. Instead I joined a friend of mine aged twelve, who had been staying with her Auntie Alice and Uncle Albert in Lancashire at the outbreak of war and so had remained up there. Little did I realise that, apart from one or two occasions when the worst of the blitz was over and I did return to London for a few days, Burnley would be my home for the next three years.

Miners returning home after a shift in the mines were often to be seen still covered in coal-dust with lamps on the top of their pit helmets; many with their characteristic arch-backed walk. Mill girls clattered to work in their clogs with shawls over their heads when the factory hooter called them all to work in the morning. It was all a very different world to me, but the people were so friendly to two little evacuees. The High School we attended allowed us to keep to our own school uniform, which made us feel a little special. My schoolwork suffered and from usually being near the top of my form I fell to nearer the bottom.

We took a real interest in the war following every campaign on a big map and could put names to most of the faces that appeared in the newspapers. We listened attentively to the speeches of Winston Churchill whenever they were broadcast. We were not idle — we knitted for the boys at the Front and sent them food parcels containing cakes we had lovingly made, though goodness knows what they were like. We dug for victory. The Chapel was a great community centre and somewhere for the Forces to come to when on leave with its endless socials with giant meat and potato pies for everyone to eat and concerts to take part in. Whilst we were there Uncle Albert formed the 1st Burnley Boys Brigade, which flourished.

Luckily for us Burnley was also where the Old Vic was evacuated to, so from The Gods we saw wonderful theatrical performances with such performers as Ralph Richardson, John Gielgud, Sybil Thorndike etc. Sadlers Wells also visited and also we heard Oratorios sung by such wonderful artists as Isobel Baillie, Joan Cross etc and, I think, Kathleen Ferrier. No wonder in letters written to me by my father (many in rhyme, which I still have) does he reproach me for being in debt and sends me more pocket money! He, poor man, slept under the stairs during the blitz when he was not firewatching, after having worked hard all day with inadequate staff — the young and fit being in the Forces - despite not being a fit man.

Returning to London by train for a short visit when I was about 13 I had to cross Manchester. Some American Army Officers escorted me and made sure I was on the right train. The thought of anyone molesting us or attempting to rape us never crossed our minds. I doubt if we knew what it meant. We were much safer and freer in those days.

I think the one great advantage our generation had over the present generation was that we all — even young children — had a job to do and something to contribute, even if it was only to buy potatoes if we had the opportunity when in short supply. So many people were in uniform, so that mainly people were smart and clean and I don’t remember any vandalism.

After our return to London came the doodlebugs and the rockets and then, at last, the end of the War. But then came the hard work of rebuilding the country. I started work with the Iraq Petroleum Company (later nationalised), which mushroom-grew, as men and women came out of the Forces, having been reduced to a mere handful of staff during the War. So now it is very sad that there has been war in Iraq. Such a lot of hard work and enthusiasm, too, at the beginning of the National Health Service with such high hopes, so that it is so also sad to see the state that it is in today.

Even a child was seriously affected by the war and life was never the same again.

Once we were inspired — now we’re old and tired!

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