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15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

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Evacuees versus Turnip Heads on the Severn Estuary

by pscribe

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Archive List > Childhood and Evacuation

Contributed by听
pscribe
People in story:听
Pam Clatworthy
Location of story:听
The mud flats of the Severn estuary
Article ID:听
A1992620
Contributed on:听
08 November 2003

All the village adults felt sorry for the evacuees. They had been sent from London at the end of the war when V1s were wreaking havoc on the city.
We kids really detested them.
'Give George your torch to play with,he's been bombed out.'
'Sheila likes your doll such a lot, why don't you let her have it? She's so far away from home.'
We knew better than to argue. Psychology didn't play a large part in discussions with children in the 1940's.
One summer's day, things came to a head. Akker, the leader of our gang was called a turnip head by a cheeky Cockney kid. We were playing over on the mud flats, acres of fine gray silt that stretched into infinity down to the river Severn. We peasants revolted. I don't know who threw the first handful of sour mud, but soon Turnipheads v Evacuees were chucking handfuls of the stuff at each other.
The battle lasted for what seemed a long time. The Londoners were in an ascendency for a while, they crept up behind us , darted around in a wily manner. Then the tide turned. The village lads were strong farm boys used to shifting bales of hay and battling with farm animals.Sheer persistence ended in retreat.
Brute strength forced the evacuees back, and they ran off back to their homes in the village. Both sides were covered with slime and mud.
Akker led his triumphant gang back through the green lanes and down the main street. I was a mess of mud. My handknitted jumper and tartan skirt were unrecognisable as garments. My Clarks sandals squelched as I walked.Who cared? We were invincible.
My jubilation ended at the kitchen door. My mother took one look at me, and got out the garden hose to clean me up in the yard. I've hated cold showers ever since. Then I was wrapped up in the dog's old towel and carried up to the bathroom for a lukewarm scrubbing all over.
At school on Monday there was no mention of the battle. Akker was the hero of the playground
and swaggered about a bit. I don't think he was called a turnip head again.

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