大象传媒

"This is Mrs Kathleen Long (nee 'Kitty' Bailey)story; it has been added by Liz Edwards a volunteer at Sidley UK Online Centre.

To a 9 year old, it all seemed like a big adventure. We had heard about the war but it was just a word that grown ups used. Here we were - school friends and teachers together, waiting excitedly for a train to who knows where.

We all had a gas mask to carry and were told to take it everwhere with us. We also had a luggage label with our name on it, attached to our clothing (mine got eaten by a friendly goat on my way to school one morning so I had to get a replacement!). Another thing we had in common, including the teachers, was a small bag or suitcase containg a change of clothing and some 'iron rations'. I distinctly remember a large bar of chocolate and a 'ships' biscuit.

We boarded the train as if going on a trip to the seaside and waved goodbye to our parents who must have been suffering terribly at sending their offspring into the unknown.

We were taken off the train in a remote part of the country where people were washing milk churns. It was very wet and very noisy. The coaches arrived to take us to a school hall in a very quiet village in Wiltshire which was very different to our home surroundings, just outside Portsmouth.

I struck lucky and was sent to live on a farm with my best friend whom I found to have a strange item of clothing amongst her things. We all had liberty bodices - the girls, that is, but she had a garment known as 'combs'. Getting in and out of these things seemed very tricky as it was 'all in one'!

We were sent to a small church hall for school lessons but had few books. We were taught rug making and each made our parents a shoe polisher about 12 inches square.

Gradually the children drifted back to their parents and the bombing but I settled in very well and made myself useful by collecting eggs on the farm and watching the cows being milked. I was looked after by a maid called Olive Rabbits (who naturally came from a large family!).

I had always enjoyed my own company and spent many hours colouring or sewing beads onto pieces of cork to make mats for plants. Later I was sent to live with Mr and Mrs Carter and their daughter Pamela and was transferred to the village school. It was a very happy time and I learned so much about the countryside - I still have a great interest in wild flowers.

On Sundays, we went to chapel (three times!) and sometimes the sermons were quite interesting but others were very long and dull. It was just a mater of luck really.

Sunday tea was taken at the White House - not the one in America of course, but the home of the senior Carters. There was always a seed cake, a fruit cake and a sponge. The garden was also a brick building at the end of the garden in which lurked a well scrubbed piece of wood with three dirrerent sized holes in it. It covered a large pit which was in fact, the lavatory! (I tried to avoid this monstrosity and concentrated on the tennis!).

It was a very relaxed village with the men either fighting the war or farming their land. We were able to play in the lanes without fear of being run over - one bus a week and a few ancient bicycles were the only traffic except my roller skates! The village children were very intrigued by these and thought I was rather a weired child I believe.

My parents hired a taxi every six weeks to spend the day with me - I don't think I was ever homesick but of course I was happy to see them. I had to change schools when I was 11 years old and was evacuated to Winchester and had to share the high school with the local children - they had lessons in the morning and we had them in the afternoons. In the mornings, we had games at various locations. It was all a good experience and I'm sure I must have learned something from it.

We were sent home after the war and had a street party on May 8th where my young brother won the fancy dress competition - dressed as Montgomery.

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