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I was sitting in the garden of 8 Woodfield Terrace, Thornwood Common on the morning of 3rd September 1939, dealing with runner beans. My cousin who lived at no 13, came to tell me that war had broken out. We both spent all our teenage years during the war.
Nothing happened for some time, this was known as the ‘phoney war’.
It was decided we must take in evacuees from London.
I was an only child and we had a spare bedroom but this had a lot of home made wine stored. My mother made wine from vegetables we grew on our allotment and wild flowers we picked, Dandelion and Cowslips or PAIGLES as we called them.
A lady with a baby and two older children stayed for a weekend until they were found other accommodation, or returned to London. After a while it was decided we were not safe as we were near to the airfield.
The first raid on the aerodrome was on a Saturday afternoon. The day before my mother had seen a German plane flying so low she could see the pilot, obviously he took photos.
My father and I were cycling back from Epping Upland when we heard the air raid siren. We flung down our cycles and rushed to the shelter. He went to where the garden of 17 is now. My mother and I (and the dog) went in the Anderson shelter in the garden of No 9 (which was the sub post office).
As I write this at 1 High Road, North Weald Bassett, built in 1958 where the Post Office was bombed that day.
We saw a lot of forces about and living next to the Post Office there was a lot of activity.
School for us was half day. Evacuees were taught for the other half.
When France fell our form master said 'Not to worry we still had our Empire'.
Listening to the Doodlebugs was really frightening and desperately praying the engine would not stop. The first rocket we heard my mother said 'That was not a bomb, it sounded like an aerial torpedo'.
We all had paper strips stuck on our windows and some were broken in the village.
When I left school I worked at the West Essex Gazette in Epping. I became a compositor. No shelter there, we just carried on, one bombs shook the lamps so much the dust of years came down. only six pages and the headings were set by hand. Metal would be heating with a flame under. I caught my arm alight and an older man put it out with his hands.
Mrs Amy Peacock came round the works selling 6d savings stamps (for the war effort).
All road sign posts were taken down. When out cycling, providing we saw the pylons at Ongar Radio Station, we knew we were ok.
Very good bus service. A contraption on the back meant they were gas powered.
Most villages had allotments and grew own vegetables. As children we didn't have to worry. It was hard for our mother, especially when bread was rationed. Sweets were the last to come off ration, I think that was in 1954.

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