大象传媒

This story has been added to the website by Sue Giardina with permission from Gwen Hibbert, who understands the terms and conditions of this website.

I was born October 13th 1928, and spent a very happy childhood living at Chartwell. My parents were Mr & Mrs Hill who lived in Gardeners Cottage.
One of my earliest memories was seeing Winston Churchill building the wall around the kitchen garden. We children were not allowed in or near the gardens when the family was in residence. One day we were with my father when Winston spoke to us, which rendered me speechless. Not so my sister. before long she was handing bricks to him and was lucky to get 6d (pence) from him for helping.
As I grew older I grew bolder and started to explore the estate where i lived. I found endless delights of nature with all manner of wildlife in the fields and woods -the lakes - ponds, the waterfalls, the waterfowl and fish.
This was my world in which I spent endless hours by myself looking - enjoying and fantacising that it was all mine no one would ever change it, and I would live there forever.
Life at Chartwell in those days was exciting, the family did a lot of entertaining. Diana and Sara were bringing friends down from London. People like Vic Oliver and many famous Americans came and went. Talk below stairs was always interesting.
I was only allowed near the 'big house' when father took the daily supply of fresh veg, fruit, flowers and honey. Cook would sit me on a stool and give me titbits, a rare treat in those days.
Although we were certainly not poor money never ran to luxuries, mother was a good cook and manager so the house and us were spotless and well cared for.
Christmas was something to look forward to,there was always a big party in the servants hall for the workers and every one received a present. At one time my sister and I were the only children on the estate so we fared better than most. One year I received a large baby doll with a china head, it would be worth a lot of money now if I hadn't dropped it.
For me life was one long sunny spell, nothing to darken my horizon until 'The War'.
Everything changed over night, my whole world fell apart. First the young lads who worked under my father were called up. Then the slightly older ones left, soon there was only my father left to run the whole estate and the farm.
Winston Churchill was now the 1st Sea Lord of the Admiralty and spent most of his time either at Chequers or Downing Street. Chartwell stood empty, as the war worsened we were asked to move out of the cottage and live in the 'big house', this was in case any incendiary bombs fell.
My father was in the ARP and had to go out at nights especially when the raids were on.This was a terrible time for my mother who was now very pregnant with my brother, and she worried that something would happen to my father.
The bombing of London started and night after night huddling under a table in the servants quarters we would hear the waves of German bombers passing over head. Biggin Hill wasn't far away so the enemy were attacked by fighters also caught in searchlights and fired on by the Ack-Ack guns. Many times as they were driven back they would drop their bombs and make a run for the coast. Being on the flight path Chartwell was often rocked by explosions. On one occasion it got very bad and my father took us down to the cellars where the main furnaces and fuel were kept, several near misses disturbed years of coke and coal dust, and when we were able to come out the next morning we were like Black and White Minstrals. On looking around we saw how lucky we had been, a large bomb crater was in a field near the house, and several more across the estate.

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