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This story has been added to the site by ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Cornwall CSV Producer Nina Davey, on behalf of the author Linda Pett nee Bridgman. The author understands the site’s terms and conditions.

I think the first memory for me of the war was when two evacuee girls, were brought into our house one Saturday evening. I can see them in our yard now, with Mrs Cory, the billeting officer, with their little cases and their name tags over their shoulders.

Jean Bridgwater, was six and a half years old, only a month older than me, and Barbara Robinson was nine. They came from Battersea, London.

We didn’t have a phone in those days, so Mum wrote a letter to both parents on the Sunday telling them that their girls were now on a farm called ‘Rings’ near Launceston, Cornwall; and that she would look after them as her own. We were called Bridgman.

I still remember quite a few names of those children billeted around and attending Tregadillett School, including, Barbara Ashton, Josephine Powell, Alan Simpson, Derek Marsdon, Harry Nichol and their teacher Mr Griffiths who taught alongside our teacher Mr Ching.

Both Barbara and Jean’s mothers would visit them some weekends coming to Launceston on the train. Mrs Bridgwater and little John aged three stayed on for three months when things were so bad in London and spent Christmas 1940 with us. Mrs Bridgwater would like to help to do some jobs on the farm and would have her photo taken to send back to her friends in London. She was most interested in the ‘Threshing Day’.

I was really upset to lose my playmates when it was safe for them to return to London as we got on so well together. We had a Christmas card from Barbara the first Christmas but no more, I often wonder what happened to her.

But Jean came down several times and I visited them in London. For years I would write a long letter to her for her birthday in December and she to me in January with all our family news. But unfortunately six years ago Jean passed away from cancer we still get a Christmas card from her husband. Little John now nearly seventy visits us when he comes down to Cornwall sailing with his family and always writes a letter at Christmas.

I often wonder how many evacuees still keep in touch with their wartime guardians; I feel we were very lucky.

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