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This story has been added by CSV volunteer Linda Clark on behalf of the author Michael Edwards. It is from a book he wrote about Perranporth (Cornwall) and it was printed by Penwartha Press. They both understand the site's terms and conditions.

CHAPTER SIX. Our Favourite Playground, The Beach Barricade.

Perran at War continued. After the bombing of Penhale things began to happen fast - the appearance of uniforms mostly, everybody seemed to be in uniform of one colour or another. Shops started to close down with little signs on them saying "closed for the duration of the war", including "Bathes" Kodak Shop where the Chinese restaurant is now and Pearsons Jewellery shop (turf accountants opposite the Perran Inn). The aircfield started coming into being, our regular walks were suddenly cut short by a barbed wire fence across the path, with a sentry, near Cligga. Barbed wire started to appear everywhere and the promenade and "Green", all the cliff paths to the beach were blocked, Tamblyn Way, Droskyn Cove steps and point and even the steps up to the Promenade Hotel.

A concrete wall appeared across the ramp at Cliff Hill side of the Promenade and one part way across the other beach entrance at the river bridge, "to stop German Tanks" we boys were told! And then the appearance of the famous (or infamous)beach barricade starting from Promenade Hotel steps and built of steel scaffold poles: the barricade stretched right across the beach to flat ocks, with a suare gap in the middle. All this activity was viewed with great interest by us small boys, imagination ran riot, many of us thinking the entire German Army was about to land on our beach: of course we armed ourselves with suitable wooden guns, spears, swords, even the odd tin hat appeared. War like games abounded, as we dug our "trenches" on the beach. The barricade was a great attraction, we would swarm across it, until we got a telling off from the Army, boasting we could get to flat rocks without touching the sand beneath. Later on, for a time, the beach was sealed off completely, we were only allowed access at certain times. The two Pill Boxes were now being built, (the "Forts" we called them) one at the bottom of Ponsmere Hotel steps, now a beach shop, the other end of Wheal Mary adit, the other side of flat rocks, this now demolished, yet more coils of barbed wire stretched from here, across Penhale.

I can't remember these machine gun posts ever being manned but I supppose the Home Guard must have used them at some time. One day a weird, loud whistling noise brought everybody on to the street: after much enquiry and running about, it was discovered that our village air raid siren was being tested! The siren was mounted up a pipe at the front of George Cornish's garage (where "Oasis" is now) and was worked by compressed air from the garage, after a while this siren was considered not powerful enough to be heard all over the village and a posh new electric one appeared on some poles on the waste ground where Marine Court,now stands. The siren was a real wailing one, we boys would sit underneath it waiting for it to come on. It was operated from the local ARP post a back room behind Mr. Beard's boot and shoe shop (the half of "Bo Jangles" nearest Sully's). The village first aid post, run by the Red Cross, was situated at the rear of the "Riverside Cafe" and shop, oddly named as its quite a way from the river: this is now the Pickwick Fish and Chip Shop.

CHAPTER SEVEN. One of the Air Raid Shelters, The Old Stork Club Behind.

Two large concrete public air raid shelters were now being built, one in front of the Stork Restaurant (the then Stork Club), the other at the back of Mitchell's Corner, it's still there, converted to Mitchell's Taxi Garage. The buildings forming Mitchell's Corner were not there in those days, there being a little paddock surrounded by iron railings, the shelter was built at the back of the paddock. After the war this shelter was converted into little shops: Ted Langdon's Gents Barber Shop was one with Claude Jeffery's Electrical being the other. The paddock was then used by Jack Polkinghorne for many years for his riding school, the horses being tethered to the railings when not out on rides.

These shelters, although never used in earnest, were naturally a great attraction for us boys, with an open door at each end and a flat roof to climb on; as far as we were concerned they were for us to play games in! After a while though, we had to compete for occupancy with courting couples, as they found them ideal for the purpose.

Father, not to be outdone by the public shelters, decided to build his own; permission was given by Mr. Sollitt, who owned Pentrig, (now the Green Parrot), whose wooded grounds bordered Pentrig Lane at the back of our shop and home. A lovely grear square hole was dug, with steps down into it, then roofed with corrugated iron and covered with earth. Father started to furnish it with boxes for seats and shelves for candles etc.. When we discovered it was fast filling up with water and within a few days full, that project was abandoned.

Perranporth did actually have one air raid, when some incendiary bombs were dropped on the village: fortunately no great damage was done that I remember. One landed on the grass where Mount Stuart at Lower Tywarnhayle is now, there being only grassy field then right across to the houses near the Cinema. This bomb made a small crater, a bit of scorched grass etc.. I think one landed on Prom Car Park and several more scattered about the village. I must at this point write about the Perranporth unit of the NFS (National Fire Service). This fine body of men were based in Mr.Albert Tregonning's Taxi Garage, now the Shell Shock; a small trailer pump had been allocated to Perranporth and I believe, one ladder. Mr Tregonning's big Austin Taxi was pressed into service to tow the pump, with the ladder fixed to the roof; I seem to rmember they also had a bell. One large wartime fire I remember clearly was that of the local waste paper depot going up in flames. The waste paper was stored in a large Nissan type hut at Lower Bolenna, just at the bottom of the steep part of the lane. After the fire I remember the debris smouldered for a long time before the remains of the hut were cleared away. Drills were carried out with great gusto near the promenade, pumping from the dammed up river, led by Mr Tregonning I believe. Mr. Jack Truscott was also involved and went on to be the firtst leading fireman and sub officer of the unit after the war when NFS became Cornwall Fire Brigade, housed for many years at the old fish cellars at Penvenen Lane, with a purpose built ex NFS Austin towing vehicle, with a colour change from wartime grey to peacetime red.

In those immediate post war years, the air raid siren was removed and its tower dismantled and the Fire Brigade called out by Control at Truro telephoning Mr Jack Truscott's home. A hand cranked siren mounted upon a tripod was carried up the steps to the flat roof of his road side garage and cranked furiously by Jack for some minutes in the often vain hope that most of the brigade members would hear it. If Jack was not at home, Mrs Truscott would do the job herself, roping in any passing citizen to assist. Later, of course, up to the time of its demolition, the first siren was located on top of the old bus garage on the promenade car park and eventually on top of the new fire station in New Road, until the introduction of Personal Bleepers. Much was the rivalry between the NFS unit at St Agnes and Perranporth; the St Agnes unit was housed in the old Harper and Kellow coach gargage at the rear of the St Agnes Hotel and sometimes had difficulty "turning out" especially at night as buses had to be moved out of the way first! This no doubt had a bearing on the decision after the war to base a permanent retained fire station for the area at Perranporth and the St Agnes unit was disbanded. The decision caused much resentment and bad feeling between the villages at the time.

CHAPTER EIGHT. The Summer Theatre and WI. My School For Many Years.

By now, as with many country areas 'Evacuees' started arriving amongst us; we boys looked upon this 'invasion' with great suspicion to start with but after a while, boys being boys all started playing together and of course the newcomers had to go to school. The little Perranporth school became overcrowded and at this time a large London school, complete with teachers and all the equipment moved to Perranporth. The sudden appearance of the maroon blazers of the 'Oxford and Elson House School, from Leytonstone madea great impression on the village, too many children for any one building, classes were set up all over Perranporth, the old Summer Theatre (Womens' Institute) being the main base, the Unionist Club, St Michaels Hall, Men's Institute, an empty shop in St Piran's Road and rooms at Mrs Williamsons House in Pentrig Lane (now the "Gounce") opposite the old Stork Club garden. I was enrolled as soon as circumstances permitted. Oxford and Elson School was a private fee paying establishment and I amongst many other boys and girls from Perranporth and surrounding areas joined the queue every Monday to pay our two shillings and sixpence!

The headmistress and proprietor of the school, Mrs Gertrude Press was a formidable lady in all aspects, ensuring instant respect from every one and we children were suitably terrified of her! The lady ruled the school with a firm but fair hand, her rather portly figure wielding her walking stick, ensuring instant silence on entering any room. A fine teacher in her own right, she handled an equally fine team of teachers, some recruited locally but mostly moved with the school to the village; the school covered an immense range of subjects from typewriting, foreign languages etc. to cookery, much more than a village school could hope to cover. Some of the teachers names I remember are, Deputy Head Miss Vivash, Art, Mrs Stephens, Biology, Mrs Chadwick and Mrs Walker, who lived in the area and has recently passed away aged 90 years. I was a member of Mrs Walkers class in 1942. We used a room in Mrs Williamsons's house (now St Piran Flats),i Pentrig Lane at the back of the Stork Club, a dear old lady much loved by all her pupils, she was the guest of honour at the school reunion in 1990 held at Sully's Hotel, with 50 - 60 old pupils attending. One abiding memory for me whilst being in the little back room of the old Summer Theatre, attending Miss Woods class, when a policeman calledour teacher aside to return in a very distressed state and then taken home. We heard afterwards that the husband had been killed in action; sad times indeed.

The school plays and Christmas shows were looked forward to eagerly by the whole village, professionally costumed and well rehearsed for wartime. These shows are still rememberedby the older residents of the village.

The school survived in Peranporth until 1947. Many of the former ex London pupils serrling in the area, it survived in London until 1961 when it finally closed.

I look back upon school life with great affection and will, along with many old friends be grateful for the arrival of 'Oxford and Elson House School' in Perranporth, playground we did not have but made full use of the mine burrows and grassy bits where Wheal Leisure car park is now, playing fields we didn't have either but we had the beach, or for football the village pitch then at the top of Liskey Hill where the caravan site is. A super school with super memories.

Whilst writing on the evacuee subject, mention must be made of the small 'colony' of refugee girls. These girls were German Jews, having escaped the Holocaust happening in their native country. The girls, I remember, all wore black stockings and could not speak a word of English and were a familair sight in Perranporth. On outings, they were kept together in a 'crocodile' under the supervision of their own matron. They were housed at "Sunray" Guest House, now converted into flats, the large building overlooking the old cinema site.

Some rather less welcome immigrants were the arrival of an approved school for young offenders, all boys. Perran Bay, now an old folks home was used to house them, under very strict officers with big sticks! If the inmates were out in their excercise area in front of the building, often a stone fight would ensue against the local boys, the other side of the wall! In fact anybody walking along Sandy Lane was at risk, as this would precipitate a hail of stones or turfs hurled over the wall. I suppose all this servedas some sort of deterrent for us boys, as we were constantly being threatened by enraged parents if we didn't behave ourselves we were likely to be "put away" too!

CHAPTER NINE. Sully's Hotel Annexe and the Village Raid Siren.

I have mentioned previously the names of hotels etc. which were much involved during the war years. I think most of the larger properties and even empty houses in some cases, were taken over for the "Billets" for soldiers or RAF personnel. Some I remember were Droskyn Castle used for RAF officers, also "Lamorna", "Gull Rock" and "Summerleigh", previously used as convalescent homes, were used for WRAF personnel. The Promenade Hotel used to host servicemen's dances, Sully's Hotel for Army officers. Ponsmere, much smaller in those days was also used at one time when the Americans arrived, (more of which later). Even more properties were requisitioned, one "Bel Fiori" in the Gounce, for officers. The local "Billeting" offical was Mr Edwards (father of the late Ken Edwards) a very stern gentleman indeed. One amusing incident I recall involving my friend John Flanagan and myself, being extremely naughty, playing at the rear of Sully's Hotel, full of Army at the time and bending the lead waste pipes upwards, to point skywards, in order to see what would happen, when somebody pulled the plug in an upstairs bathroom. We were happily sitting awaiting such an occurrence, when we were pounced on by Mr Edwards, who grasping each ofus by an ear marched us off along the street to Harvey Mitchell's corner shop, to which our parents were summoned and then many tears and sore backsides later, were made to see the error of our ways! We were only eight or nine years old at the time however.

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