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Patricia Moss (nee Flunder)

I came from Stratford in London and we lived in this flat above a shop in Windmill Lane. I can’t remember exactly when — there was my mother, father and my brother who was about 2 years. My father was a painter and decorator - he’d been in the First World War.

I was 7 years old when I was evacuated. I went with my mother and younger brother to Liverpool St station. We had to hang onto our mother — it was very busy at the station and we were bundled into carriages. We didn’t take much with us — just a small case and our gas masks.
We stopped off at Colchester where we were given tea and something to eat and then we went on to Wivenhoe and were met by the WRVS people at the old boys school (where the library is now). Mrs Farrow was organising where people were going to stay. The particular person I was allocated to (Mrs Chick) had said she would take in 6 boys — rather than any families. She’d got this big house near the church. We arrived at this big house in the evening where there were 2 lodgers but Mrs Chick, herself, was in London at a niece’s wedding and when she returned she nearly had a fit — 3 mothers with 2 children each instead of 6 boys. There was an enormous bedroom in which we all stayed in for the night. The women wouldn’t stop crying and wanting to go home and the children were upset. But that is where we stayed. Two families went back to London after a week or so but we stayed on.

They (Mr and Mrs Chick) had a shop that sold everything from second-hand furniture. Out the back was an old tin shed and they sold paraffin and potatoes. They were from London and came to Wivenhoe after the First World War.
Mrs Chick used to make a fuss of me and I was always following her around. After Dunkirk the authorities decided that the East Coast wasn’t very safe so that the majority of the children were evacuated to Wales — particularly the children on their own. But my mother wanted to go back too London. Mrs Chick offered to have me - so I stayed whilst my mother and brother went home. I was brought up as their adopted daughter — they didn’t have children of their own. I went to the local school and then to Brightlingsea School when I was old enough — so I was brought up as one of the family along with her nieces and nephews. My father used to come from London and visit me. One day we went along the sea wall to Alresford to the Old Grange. I always remember the daffodils there — we’d never seen such flowers — so we started to pick them — until the owner came out and told us off! My mother and my brothers wrote to me.
I got involved in the local life. There were a few more children were here but the majority of the evacuees went home. I made friends with some of the children from London. Eventually the rest of the evacuees left — either to London or on to safer places.

I had a good life with my foster parents — they were marvellous. Everyone spoke well of them.

We didn’t have an exciting life - we used to go on the train to Walton.
My aunt brought up a foster lad — he joined the navy. And he was in the war. When he came home he introduced me to the Congregational Church (the old chapel on West St) as a child to which I still belong.
They had an Anderson shelter in the kitchen — the kitchen was huge. She looked after us very well — we’d never known what food was like before — we never had food like we had then. We had a duck once — I’d never seen one before. I’d not had such luxury. We brought our ration books. My aunt was well in with the butcher — she used to make pease pudding.

Mr Chick was an air raid warden in the war and went out on duty at nights. When we did have a few bombs
I used to sit with an old lady — Edie Franks- when the sirens went. She had an old baker’s oven. People used to put their Sunday roast in the ovens — I used to deliver the bread on a bicycle. I delivered bread to Mrs Farrow too. I was paid 9d a week for delivering the bread twice a week.
In the old house next door the man used to won the fish shop — we used to take our old big platters to get filled up with fish and chips. We used to pay 6d a bag — or less than that.

The troops were stationed at Wivenhoe Park and the ships were down at the shipyards and the tankers used to come up here — Dutch, Norwegian.
My aunt used to send me down with a bucket to collect the sprats that the fishermen were throwing away.

We had great times and as kids. We used to have concerts in our back yard to raise funds to send out to the troops. When you think about it we had a lovely life — we had a wonderful childhood. I had a far better life with my foster parents than I would have had in London with my parents. I was very lucky.
The area where I used to live in London was bombed.

My aunt brought two of us up — Norma. She went back to London after the war ended to her mother who had remarried. I was bridesmaid at her wedding when she got married. It must be 40 years since I’ve seen her.

When the war ended I was 14 and my aunt came and took me to London to my father’s house but my father wasn’t interested so my aunt returned me to Wivenhoe that day.

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