大象传媒

In November 1940 my family's home and business in Fulham West London was destroyed due to bombing. Twenty eight of our neighbours died so we were lucky to have survived. My father was serving in the Royal Navy in Gibraltar.

We then evacuated to my Grandfather's relations who were living in Aberystwyth and I went to Ardwyn school. My Mother had been searching for any available housing to rent or buy but was unable to find somewhere accessible for me to attend school.

She did find a cottage three and a half miles from Aberangell in Merionethshire using the track of the Hendreddu Quarry's narrow gauge railway. The cottage was previously occupied by the workers from the Hendre ddu slate quarry, which was no longer being mined.

It was a haven of peace and we went there for holidays and to give the relatives a break, so many people kindly shared their homes in those difficult times. We walked the track or bicycled and lorries used the track, carrying ammunition for storage, in the quarry. Unfortunately the track was damaged by the transport and the bicycling was hazardous due to loose sleepers and an adjacent river.

The cottage was the end one of a row of six. A middle one was sometimes occupied by a widower and two young sons. The two at the other end were derelict and the one next to ours was used for coal and wood storage. In the bad weather some sheep would go into the cottage and being mountain sheep could climb the stairs.

We had an oil lamp for light in the living room and candles in the bedrooms. We carried drinking water in a bucket from a spring in the farmer's field which he had kindly struck for us. The farmer lived about half a mile from the cottage he was a bachelor and had a housekeeper. He also had an accumulator operated radio.

He asked us to visit every evening when we were at the cottage to hear the 9 o'clock news with him. We would then discuss events, mainly the progress of the war, and if we had a London visitor he was very keen to know what Londoners were thinking.

He was also very concerned that we should not use river water for anything other than washing. We had to carry all water to the brow of the hill so we did not waste it. Coal was also delivered to the foot of the hill and then carried up the hill by a bucket and stored. We had a chemical Elsan toilet which was emptied by burying in the ground.

We carried all our food and oil for the lamp on the bicycle which we pushed as we walked from the village, also any luggage that we brought with us from Aberystwyth. We travelled from Aberystwyth by Crossville bus which also carried unaccompanied parcels and was a very good service.

Our friends that came from London were so pleased to be able to sleep in the tranquil, and beautiful surroundings after leaving the war torn city.

In the Summer of 1942 we had a friend who taught French and some German in a London Grammar school visiting us for a holiday. She was very concerned about the possibility of an invasion by the Germans which was frequently being talked about in London circles.

One night we were preparing to go to bed when we heard English men's voices at the front door and they were discussing a map. The friend immediately shouted to them in German asking them what they wanted. There was no reply and my Mother said, 'They cannot be German they have no accent'. Our friend said, 'Spies would be taught good English without an accent!'.

Now we were convinced the dreaded invasion had started and we moved heavy furniture against the door as a barricade and armed ourselves with pokers and some other fireside implements. Our friend crept out of the back of the cottage it was a very dark night, there was no moonlight. She got near to the intruders and came back very agitated to say they were trying to get to the quarry and that on the opposite mountain there were very many hand torch lights moving about.

They were heading in the direction of the quarry but on the wrong side of the valley. My Mother went upstairs, opened the window and shouted to whoever was there that they were going in the wrong direction and that they should turn round and go down the hill. The reply was in true cockney, 'Alright Ma! We are the British Army on manoeuvres, go back to bed'

Our friend was still not impressed, and in the darkness walked alone the half mile to the farm and woke the farmer up by throwing stones at his window to tell him what was happening on his land. Surprisingly he was not cross because he could not stop laughing. Authorities had told him, and had had his permission to use the land for the manoeuvres. He had not talked about it because he knew, 'Careless talk costs lives', this was what the poster kept reminding us during the war years.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.