大象传媒

I was evacuated to Upper Clatford in 1939 and to help the war effort everyone in the village collected all their waste paper.This massive pile was located in the Smithy at the house where I lived. Once a month a lorry collected the paper but not before the village children had put aside a small parcel of newspapers to take to the Odeon cinema in Andover on Saturday mornings. The paper was our ticket in. I can remember a huge pile of badly stringed parcels piled in the foyer each Saturday. The cinema showed a series of films, maybe five or six ending the morning show with a serial. This always ended at a crutial part of the story so we had to go back the following week. It was a bit like Dick Barton. I was the only evacuee in the village of Upper Clatford and sometimes I felt I was an outsider although I did have friends. The build up to 'D' day meant endless columns of army lorries trundling through the village day and night. Day time after school we would wait by the gates of our homes begging for sweets. Specially generous were the American soldiers. Sadly one little boy ran in front of a British lorry and was killed. I well remember seeing this soldier-driver crying and saying 'sorry, sorry' to the child's mother . During my stay (until 1945) I saw a young woman throw herself in front of a train - I can see now a pair of glasses lying by the track and the smear of blood on the silver rails, for that was all that was left of her. At 12 years of age the horror of it didn't really register. I just ran home and told someone.We played with fog detonators on this part of the railway until one boy lost an eye. I walked him
home to his Mum.I slid down telegraph poles from a bridge high over the line. We would put our coats on back to front, climb over the brick parapet, lunge for the pole and slide down. The pole was tarred eventually. I sang in the church choir, sometimes taking my turn at pumping the organ. We used to pass love-letters to each other throughout the service but being a giggler I was eventually asked to leave. They were not amused at home and I had to go to the vicar and apologise.Carol singing, sex education by the local WI - this was a bit useless as we had all explored!Education was first at the village school then on to Andover Secondary. In 1945 I was back in London with seven months of schooling still to complete. The standard I had reached was far above those of the children I joined - I was lucky. In between the five years, I left Upper Clatford because my grandfather was very ill. Returning to London the raids were so bad I left with hundreds of other children carrying my gas-mask to end up in Newcastle Emlyn in Wales. It was not a happy time and for seven months I worked on a farm - I was 10 - cannot remember ever having a bath. Someone in the small farming community, who had an evacuee from my road in Wandsworth, got in touch with my mother. I was at school when she appeared in the door-way, took me to the station, tried to wash my face in the waiting room toilet and took me back to London. I do remember standing on the kitchen table being scrubbed down. I went back to Upper Clatford after my grandfather's death. I think I am a pretty level-headed person but I do wonder if we , the evacuees in particular, should have had councelling, but of course it wasn't thought of then.Settling back into home life with my parents was very hard, I longed to be with my friends, splashing about in the river during the summer holidays, quite oblivious of the war, enjoying a very happy childhood .

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