大象传媒

We lived in a large farmhouse - my parents, my two older brothers and myself, aged 8 in September 1939. My father had been appointed the area billeting officer, a task totally unsuited to his background and traing: he had recently retired from the colonial service in Burma as a civil engineer building railways in the jungle, and did not know his own children very well, let alone hordes of children coming out of the East End of London and specifically from Tilbury Docks and Grays. But he managed, somehow. Our car had been requisitioned by the Army, so he was reduced to sorting out the placements and re-placements of evacuees in the neighbourhood (because there were numerous complaints from the host families to begin with) on his elderly bicycle. Everyone wanted little girls or mums with babies, so we got the left-overs, six unattached boys.

Their names were Alan, Peter & John (brothers), Tony, and Tommy and Willy(brothers, whose mother was in prison and who were sent to Dr Barnado's when they left us). It may have been a culture shock for them but it certainly was for me too. I learnt a lot very fast. Words came into my vocabulary very early on which otherwise would have remained unknown for many years - jokes, too. But Peter especially, was my protector and when I was chased at school (probably for using those words) he came to my rescue. They were scared of the dark nights at first and the terrible silence of the very deep countryside. They learnt quite a lot I think - how cows were milked (by hand then) and looked for newlaid eggs in the haystacks. They stayed about 3 months ,then we ourselves were evacuated - invasion scare in 1940 - and they were taken off to Wales and my school to Cornwall.

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