大象传媒

鈥淎 SORT OF EVACUEE!?鈥�

鈥淚 don鈥檛 remember very much about the start of WW2, but being a 鈥榮ort of evacuee鈥� has left me with memories both good and not so good,

It was 1939. I was only four years old and not yet at school so I couldn鈥檛 officially be evacuated. My Mum decided to stay in Newcastle with my Dad, who worked in the hospital. I was to become a 鈥榮ort of evacuee鈥� by going with a friend and neighbour who was taking her young family to stay in the countryside south of the Lake District where she thought we would be safer than in Newcastle upon Tyne where we lived.

During the journey I recall having to carry a haversack containing my belongings, which were very heavy for a four-year old. When we arrived at a village called Levens (now in Cumbria), we were billeted in a cottage next to the blacksmith鈥檚 shop. In those days these were busy and exciting places for a small girl from the city. I loved to watch the Smithy working, sending sparks flying. Best of all I loved to see him shoeing horses. The smell when a hot shoe was placed on the horse鈥檚 hoof remains one of my most vivid memories of being a 鈥榮ort of evacuee鈥�.

Life, however, was not so exciting or enjoyable all of the time. Two more recollections that have remained very clear concern the 鈥渄readed combinations鈥� and the 鈥淒ahlia bed鈥�. Our hostess was, to me, a very forbidding and strict old lady. She took exception to my nighties. My Mum had made them from a pretty, flower-patterned material. But this strait-laced lady decided that they were unsuitable. She produced a pair of combinations for me to wear in bed. These were like a large version of a modern 鈥楤abygro鈥�, but made from some dingy-looking material that was very scratchy and made me itch. They were horrendous and I hated them.

My other recollection was of an encounter beside a flower bed at the front of the cottage. I now know that the flowers were Dahlias but back then they were just colourful flowers that attracted lots of bees and butterflies. I can remember being fascinated by them and standing watching the insects as they visited each flower. One day I found a bee on the path and, assuming it was dead, decided to make a tiny grave for it in the garden. I picked up the supposedly dead bee and it stung me! It was probably the first sting I had experienced and it hurt. I went indoors 鈥� howling! The bee didn鈥檛 get a grave but I got covered in 鈥榖lue bag鈥�, which must have been the local remedy for stings. I survived, but it made a lasting impression. I鈥檝e never really liked Dahlias since!

A few weeks later my Mum and an Aunt came to visit us. They decided that I was to go home. Apparently I was looking thin and scruffy so they thought I鈥檇 be better off back in Newcastle.

I was so pleased to go home to my family.

I was much happier facing air raids than scratchy combinations!鈥�

People involved:

Sheila Wood age 4 (now Sheila Heaviside)
Elizabeth Wood 鈥� my mother

534 words

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