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I was three when the 2nd World War began, living in the East End of London. I am not sure how much I remember of our first taste of evacuation but I know that we went to Porringland in Norfolk. I don’t think my mother took too well to living in the country and within three weeks we were back in London. My vivid memory of that time was of the paper crosses that had been put over the windows to stop blast damage. My father was working for the Gas Light and Coke Company and did not have to serve in the armed forces. When the bombing began in earnest my mother, sister and I went to the local public shelter which was in the local department store; John Lewis’ I think. Each night we would go with our blankets and spend the night with hundreds of other people.

After one night of particularly bad raids, we were told that we could not go back to our house because there was an unexploded bomb in the tree opposite the house. I think that there was quite a few of us and we were marched along to spend the rest of the night in a school. Walking through the streets with gunfire overhead and bombs dropping was not a pleasant experience; my sister, who is older than me, still doesn’t like loud noises or thunder storms. There was a barrage balloon in the school playground.

I can’t remember if we were allowed back into the house, but I don’t think we had many possessions when we were again evacuated. Again we were lucky as my mother came with us. We stayed in the Lodge at the gate of Spains Hall, Finchingfield, Essex. I think it had about three bedrooms and there was at least three families sharing it. We lived, slept and ate in one room. You can imagine that the shared kitchen became another battleground.

My sister went to the village school which was about a mile away in the village. When we went back a few years ago my sister remembered that she had dinner with two local ladies so that she didn’t have to do four journeys. We stayed in Finchingfield for about a year, things quietened down in London so once again we went back. This time to stay with an aunt and uncle who lived in Heathway, Dagenham.

I remember this as quite a happy time as we were re-united with our father and able to see other family members. Our next move was to Forest Gate which in a way was a full circle as both my sister and I had been born in the nursing home there. At last I started school and we led a fairly normal family life, interrupted by nights in the shelter in the garden. I can still imagine the earthy smell of the blankets.

We stayed in Forest Gate until about 1944 and the coming of the V1 Doodlebugs. Soon my parents were worrying about our safety and took the decision to send us to stay with an aunt in Ipswich. Because we were older my mother did not come this time but promised to visit in the summer holidays. But things did not work out as our house was again destroyed, this time by a doodlebug. Fortunately my parents were out and were able to join us, safe but homeless. We were housed by Ipswich Council, for which we have forever been grateful, and stayed in Suffolk.

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