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I was training to be a nursery nurse at the Nursery run by Crossway Central Mission in New Kent Road. The day before war broke out in September 1939, staff and children were packed into two buses, one with 24 toddlers aged 2-4 years, one with under-twos and babies in their cribs, although we had been told not to take our own equipment.

We arrived at Glyndebourne about midday to find that we were not expected, and three other nurseries were there, all unexpected. We sat on the grass by the front drive for a long time. Eventually, thanks to the heroic efforts of two of the opera house's staff, Miss Fowler and Miss Allen, we were allocated half a hut building, normally used for visiting chauffeurs and maids. The Agnes Parr nursery had the other half.

There was no equipment so we fed the children sitting on the floor. Someone had filled sacks with hay or straw and we put the children to sleep on these. The babies'; wire cribs were each balanced between two chairs. A meal of bread and corned beef was provided in the theatre, again thanks to Miss Fowler and helpers. We slept in an adjoining room to the children, who were very noisy as they were all upset. We were disgusted to hear on the radio that evacuation of children from London had gone without a hitch.

An air raid warning on Sunday morning caused some confusion as we had no instructions for such an emergency. We took all the children indoors.

One child, on seeing cows, remarked, "Coo, don't they 'ave big dogs in the country." The children were wary of going on grass: they were used to London parks where it was not allowed.

We settled into a sort of routine, overcoming the difficulties of washing and drying clothes. Miss Fowler and the staff showed extreme patience. Meals became organised and a lorry was hired to bring our furniture from London. We got to know Jock, a stage hand, and spent time dodging his advances.

By winter we were installed in the Mansion, our numbers depleted as parents removed their children, being worried about the high rate of sickness. An LCC Matron was sent as Commandant, and things settled into order. My nursery had half of a large room for day use (probably a library) with a wide staircase running off it. This we did not use, but the service lift, which took six children at a time, was pressed into service.

I spent a lot of time on night-duty, sleeping with two others in the butler's sitting room: very cold, and noisy when fire drill was practised.

Air-raid warnings were phoned to us as we could not hear the siren. The raids were usually over by the time we had informed everybody.

Sleeping accommodation was now in the dressing rooms. My nursery was in Female Chorus, Matron was in Wigs. I remember seeing the names of Carl Ebert and Fritz Busch on doors. A dining room was provided in the Mansion. The food was good and plentiful.

The countryside was beautiful but the long walk to the bus stop for Lewes made us very isolated. A walk to the few shops in Ringmer was quite an event. Off-duty was one day off a week when, funds permitting, we could go to Brighton where Sherry's held tea-dances but we could not afford these on our £1 per month wages.

An amusing incident happened when there was an outbreak of measles. Another night nurse and myself were sent to sleep in the old part of the house, a room called (I think) Nether Wallop. It was very cold and we shared the long narrow bed. I dreamt that a plane was hovering low, to awake and find it was my companion snoring. An oversight in communications meant that no one could find us when we should have been called. One of the domestic staff eventually found us but after we had enjoyed an extra hour's sleep!

Three German Jewish girls came to one of the nurseries: refugees with sad stories, all from Berlin. A round-up of aliens in the area gave us another incident. I was downstairs ironing one night when a noise caused me to turn round to find a fair-haired blue-eyed young man, leather helmeted and a pack on his back, looking at me. In panic I shouted "Germans" and picked up the shovel for the boiler. Fortunately, one of the refugee girls appeared: he was her step-brother, come visiting.

Christmas was a happy time, carols organised by Miss Fowler were sung all around the estate. It was a lovely sight in the moonlight. We put out the lights and drew back the black-out curtains. On Boxing Day, parents came by coach: they had saved for this out of hard-earned money. Some did manage to make the journey to see their children infrequently, but transport and cost made this difficult: some of their children seemed not to know their parents.

We had many happy rambles with our toddlers through the woods. Getting up to 20 children into identical red rubber boots was no mean achievement.

I remember seeing Audrey Mildmay (John Christie's wife) at times - she always had a gentle word for the little invaders of her lovely home.

We enjoyed rowing on the lake, and seeing the lovely flamingoes, but, like the children, we were terrified by the hissing geese. We became friendly with Frank and Molly Reeve who lived in a cottage on the estate, and they always made us welcome. It was nice to see a normal family, with their baby living with them.

The nursery returned to London in August 1940. The building was bombed in the blitz. Thankfully there were no casualties but the nursery was thereafter disbanded.

Marjorie Clarke (née Miller)

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