大象传媒

Ths story was submitted to the People's War website by the 大象传媒 Essex Action Desk on behalf of Doreen Davidson and has been added to the site with her permission and she understands the sites terms and conditions.

I had just passed my 11-plus when it was expected war would be declared. In those days parents had to pay 拢3, I think it was, a term to provide uniforms and books and sports equipment. This was quite a big outlay and I was the only one in my street about to go to grammar school. I was taken by my mother to what was to be my new school, a long way from my home area, and found that a rehearsal for evacuation was about to take place. No doubt my mother would have known this but I had not been told. I watched and decided it looked like fun and said I would like to go also. No doubt my head was full of stories about boarding school and dorm feasts and my parents set about making arrangements.

On the appointed day we went to Newcastle Central Station, duly boarded a train, waved bye-bye and off we set, with our gas masks in cases and our luggage. Now sitting to write this, I realise what our parents must have felt as we set off with war imminent and no idea if they would see their children again.

I did not know anyone but do not remember any of us crying. We just sat in our seats with occasional checks from teachers and some mothers who were going with us. After what appeared to be a long journey we arrived at Kendal and were duly taken into a hall. There, children were allocated to the families they were to stay with. I and another very little girl were left and one teacher who had her hair in two buns one over each ear, turned to me and said come with me. Not knowing her and not liking the look of her I remember turning round and making a face. At this point one of the WRVS ladies said I will take these two and off we went with her.

The family I was with turned out to be very important people in the town. I started to call them Auntie and Uncle after a few days instead of Mam and Dad which tripped of my tongue automatically. During my stay, both were mayor in turn. They had the local Lime and Brick Works and Auntie ran the local WRVS as well as being a local magistrate. They lived beside the village green which, if anyone knows Kendal, is at the top of Beast Banks, correctly named. There was a handrail beside the pavement in part to help you get up the bank in icy weather. Uncle had designed a very modern house into which we moved shortly after the war started. This was further out of the town and I had a long walk to school.

The school was housed in a technical school and my first form room was in a lecture room so we sat in stepped rows for lessons whilst in our own form room but, of course, moved around the building for other lessons as children do now. For games we were taken to the local High School to use their facilities. There was a certain amount of 鈥淭he Evacuees鈥� being looked down upon from that school and some local residents. For lunch on school days I went to the food kitchen which had another name but I cannot remember it. The hosts got 8/-, I think, per week.

I settled down and life consisted of school and after tea, homework, until bedtime which was a lot earlier than children go to bed these days. There was never anyone to help with homework and indeed I never thought to ask for help and no-one ever checked if indeed I had done it. Perhaps that was good training to be self reliant and conscientious which has followed me all my life.

After the first term the six year old little girl went home and I had another girl, a little younger than me, but in the same school, called Dorothy, sharing a bedroom with me. We were companions for each other but did not always travel back and forth to school at the same time. These days I think of how I wandered home via the local woods, over the golf course, with not a care about personal safety, nor would anyone have known my whereabouts had I not turned up for meals.

Saturdays I was trusted to do the local shopping in the town and market and occasionally I could afford the pictures on a Saturday afternoon out of my 1/- a week pocket money my parents sent me. My pocket money had to cover any incidental expenses like stamps, birthday presents and sweets, before they were rationed. My parents occasionally sent tins of toffee to me. Soon regular end of term visits home were organised and I was in Newcastle during a lot of the worst of the bombing, spending many hours in the garden shelter whilst the shrapnel dropped and the guns banged. My father was a despatch rider in the Home Guard and mother and I were on our own during raids. Perhaps at this stage I should explain that I was the youngest child of three, the other two being teenagers when I was born. My father had been in German East Africa during the first world war and my mother was too old to be forced to work as younger mothers without children were.

Sundays were spent very quietly, the family had their own Methodist Chapel and we all went to church Sunday mornings and Sunday school later. Those were the days when you had Sunday clothes to wear. Remember that?? One big excitement for me was 鈥淩omany鈥�. He used to be in Children鈥檚 Hour with Auntie Doris and they did country walks. He was a Methodist teacher and he stayed once and I had the joy of getting water for his spaniel dog 鈥淩aq鈥� and holding his long ears out of his feeding bowl.

The household was organised mainly by the eldest girl of the family. She did most of the cooking and they had two ladies who came in daily to clear, etc. Auntie did some of the washing and ironing but, of course, was very busy with her war efforts. There was another girl in the later stages of boarding school and two boys at boarding school who came home at half terms, etc.

Dorothy and I had the job of cleaning the shoes each morning and Uncle, who wore boots to work, always came home with them covered in dried lime - not an easy job to clean.

As children we all appeared to accept that this was what life was like and just got on with things. I wonder if our experiences have helped us to cope with life and all its traumas in a stoic way. These days there would be counsellors all over the place and I am amazed at the fuss that is made when youngsters move to senior school and the 鈥榯o do鈥� that is made about them having to carry bags from class room to class room and not knowing their way round, etc, although they have the benefit of being at home with their parents to advise and show an interest and give love, comfort and help. We were way from home in a strange area and although never really hungry, not able to ask for a piece of bread and jam or a biscuit or feel like asking for help with problems. It was up to me to remember to take sports equipment on the correct days to school and when to change my clothes, etc. etc.

I was lucky not to be ill treated as we have recently learnt many children were. I did keep in touch with my hosts until they died many years later.

Doreen Davidson

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