大象传媒

War had been declared. Mother called me up from the mews to hear Mr Chamberlains announcementon on the Home service. As a member of Hampstead Odeon Mickey Mouse Club I had witnessed on the newsreels Hitlers depredations into Europe. The day was sunny and warm and the threat of war, though stunning, seemed quite unreal
to a seven year old. The next morning I awoke and clambered up to view Primrose Hill to the South though the attic window and then changed windows to scan the road at the front. (Lambolle Road) Not a german in sight. Having expected to see hordes of goose-stepping Nazi's I thought a mistake had been made and ran into my mothers bedroom to tell her that there was no war.
The next fortnight seemd peaceful and no nearer to death or destruction though sandbags were stacked in front of office windows, headlights had been shrouded with conical masks that allowed only a tiny slit of light to illuminate progress,the glazed roof of KIngs Cross had been painted black
but still no war was apparent.
The reality struck home when mother told us that our school, (St Pauls,Swiss Cottage)
was to be evacuated. At first it was an exciting thought. The idea of living in the country appealed to me. I could find wild animals,frogs and snakes, with which, living close to the Zoo, I was familiar. Perhaps there would be fishing, something we always did when visiting grandparents in Rutland every summer.Bill and I helped mum pack our clothes into oatmeal coloured ruck sacks she had made for each of us.Eventually,labels affixed me were taken to the railway station. It was only then I realised Mother was not coming with us and I
changed my mind and remained fast.I was lifted up and placed on a seat and whilst I yelled she tried to placate me. When she promised to visit weekly I calmed down and became quiet.We headed off for Abbots Langley. On arrival all the children were herded into a school where chairs had been arranged in the form of an enclosure.A corral. In its midst were packed frightened little Londoners only the chairs seperating us from the would be foster parents.They looked us over making various comments and most not complimentary.With arms outstreched they demanded certain children from the billeting officer and gradually our numbers diminished. I cried aloud throughout the whole process and was continuously rejected. Billy was well behaved and selected several times but when informed that I was an essential part of the package he was returned to join me once again in the centre. Everyone had gone and only Bill and I remained unchosen. We must have presented folorn figures and
eventually a lady called Mrs Sale volunteered to take us. To me she looked like a witch and I howled even louder.
Recollections of our stay are quite vague
but there was a pond and I did find frogs. There was a canal where we fished,and a lovely wood were we picked blackberries. There was an Ovaltine Farm which was illustrated on the tin at that time. If I had not been so biased against it I am sure I could have enjoyed myself. The local boys used to attack us so we formed into groups (gangs)for safety.
Back in Hampstead things remained unwarlike and at Christmas the whole school returned to London for the holiday.The journey was made in a luxurious coach.Outside the sky was intense blue but looking upwards through the sun roof it took on an intense violet hue. My fellow passengers were glad to be homeward bound and sang happily. I was unable to join in. I was just too conscious of the brevity of our stay and was already dreading the return journey.
Throughout the holiday I nagged my Mother to be allowed to stay but she remained commited to our evacuation. One day I overheard Mum telling a neighbour (Mrs Wilby) of my unhappiness and was delighted to hear her reply that she could see no reason for my return.Came the day and I made an enormous fuss and eventually Mum agreed but asked me to go with her to Mrs Sales to fetch my clothes.I dare not risk it and made a counter suggestion, "Why don't
I stay with Mrs Wilby until you come back." So ended my reluctant evacuation.
Today I realise that my Mother acted for what she thought to be the best and the ladies of Abbots Langley were not the ogres of my childish mind. My Father has not been mentioned.He was in France with his employer when war broke out but managed to catch the last boat out of France (SS Normandy)Both parents did visit and when they were there I enjoyed my stay. We moved to Dad's employers house in 1940, 48, Green Street, (off Park Lane) when she left for America. We were bombed out from there in Sept 1940 and we moved to grandparents in Rutland where I still reside.

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