大象传媒

7th Chapter of my story.

Then came the doodle bugs, so sent to Wales again!. Finally, VE night.

Brian and I stayed in London for a while with mum and dad; but then came the doodle bugs, a flying bomb which would suddenly appear, sometimes without warning, their throbbing engine sounding different from normal bombers, a more whining sound, and you could see them appear in the sky like a flying cross; the sound of their engines was instantly recogniseable; and all you could do was to pray and hope they wuld not stop; because if they stopped, they would plummet down and crash below, you never knew where. It was very nerve wracking, and my poor mother's nerves by now , through lack of sleep, shortage of food, and general worry about us children could not face things any more So she sent me up to Wales again, to my Auntie Jessie where she knew I would be safe. Brian, by now, assisted by the hours of coaching my mother had devoted to him, gained his entrance to Archbishop Tennyson's Grammar School at Kennington, and the school had been evacuated to Reading, so I lost touch with Brian. I liked Wales, the countryside, and school because at last, it seemed, I was with really friendly, intelligent people and the children were so nice to me. We played netball, and as Auntie Jessie's house was near the sea, and salt-water baths on the seafront, my friends and I swam a lot. My Auntie had joined the Red Cross, and in the evenings she and her old mother and I sat and knitted socks and gloves for soldiers; I even managed to knit the fingers of gloves, which made me very proud. Auntie's brother Charles was working for the government, on the secret team developing radar, and he had inside information about the future of the war. The V2's were starting: this was a very heavy high explosive bomb which did extensive damage, far greater than all previous bombs,and had a wider range of delivery so that it was expected, any time, to reach Wales: The old lady, never a sensitive soul, informed me one day that "the most terrible secret weapon there has ever been" would shortly be sent to London by the Germans and "soon, we shall be invaded, and you will be raped and I will be killed". As I did not know what "raped" meant, I looked at her curiously and said "what's raped, Auntie?"oh, you wait and see" said she, giving me an evil smile. I suppose that up in Wales, they needed a bit of excitement. After a while, as the doodle-bugs eased off, mum brought me home again. By now, I was about twelve and a half, and as it turned out, at home for good. Mum had arranged for the childrens' magazine "Sunny Stories" to be delivered to our home every Wednesday, and Brian and I made a dash to see who could pick it up first. Completely entranced by Enid Blytons tales of children having adventures, and in particular, camping, my imagination was fired. So I decided the best chance I had to go camping was to join the Girl Guides, attached to St.Luke's Church in W. Norwood. We put on "The Gang Show", where we all sang lustily "We're riding along on the Crest of the Wave, and the sun is in the sky, all our eyes on the distant horizen, look out for passers by....." etc, and which I thoroughly enjoyed. Walking home from St. Lukes Church after the Guide meeting, I used to buy fish and chips, and eat it out of the paper, trying not to be observed by any Guiders, who would have thought it infra dig to eat in the street in my Guide uniform.. As for camping...I discovered that this was impossible, due to the risk of German planes machinegunning any tents they spotted on the way. My poor mother was totally worn out by now, and suffered from fatigue; it took years for her to regain her normal self, and deal with her teenage children.

VE night

On VE night, Walter Adey, my boyfriend, and his nephew , who was a bit younger than me,my brother and I, took the tram to London to join in the celebrations in Trafalgar Square. But the trams stopped at midnight, so we all had to walk the distance home on foot to West Norwood. We were all wearing Wellington boots, as it had been raining, which did not help, as we had blisters by the time we had trudged home. At around 2 a.m. my wonderful mum was patiently and faithfully waiting at the tram terminus at West Norwood, with her rations of raisins and chocolate, for us to eat, and embraced her children with fervour; then we all walked , exhausted, up Aukland Hill, a very high and long hill, to the top, and down the other side into St. Clouds Road - and home. Home has a special meaning to me. At the end of the war, we had a street party, and I met all my old friends, and felt so happy.
The effects of evacuation on me did cause me to be quite a cynical child for a little while; the bonding between my mum and I was difficult at teenage, as she was so totally tired out, physically and emoyionally after the war, that she had no extra energy left, and the memories are still very clear to me. Seen as an adult, I think that parents and others must have had a tremendous job organising us, and I just appreciate everything that my parents did for me in those days. My mother was a shadow of her former self, and it took years for her to recover from the traumas she experienced. It took another l0 years for rationing to finally end, which happened just one year before the birth of my first baby. My husband and I bought our own house, which I have not moved from for 50 years; a reflection, I believe, of the insecurity of my evacuation and disrupted childhood. After the war, I could not go in a supermarket for a long time, as the sight of so much food overwhealmed me, I could not take in that we were allowed to eat what we wanted, and SO MUCH - it seemed unbelievable.

THE END

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