大象传媒

Friday morning. 1st September 1939, was dry and bright - a typical summer's day but the Germans had breached the Polish frontier and I bade a sad farewell to home as my mother accompanied me the few yards to the school gates. There the labelled luggage was loaded onto a Council truck and lines of boys were formed up for roll-call. We filed out into Halley Road and made our way to Manor Park Station. The LNER staff coped well with all the children and soon we were ushered on to our "Special". After the usual scramble for seats the whistle blew and we were off although still not sure of our destination.
We knew we were travelling east towards the conflict and eventually the train slowed down at stopped at a large provincial station with the name writ large on the boards "NORWICH THORPE". Having lined up once more we were ushered into "charabancs" for our journey through an unknown rolling landscape to the small market town of Stalham.
A reception centre had been set up in the Methodist Church Hall where ladies dispensed hot and cold drinks and biscuits to the somewhat disconsolate souls seated around the perimeter. Local folk selected their chargesone by one in the manner of the "Slave Market"
Later in the afternoon I was driven back towards Norwich to the hamlet of Wayford Bridge where Geof Balcombe and I were taken in by Mr & Mrs Wyatt of Wood Farm. I never knew their first names and as a child I would never use them but they appeared older than parents and were apparently a childless couple. Mr Wyatt was a bluff man not unlike Oliver Hardy in stature and looks but without any comic attributes.
School Life continued as normal as possible and to help cement relationships football matches were arranged with the locals. Of the war itself the sinking of the "Royal Oak" had less impact than the air attack on the Kiel canal and the battle of the River Plate.
Christmas was spent back home but I remember the return journey when the weather was so bad we had to overnight at the Post House before continuing the next dat. So began the winter of 1940and soona blizzard struck East Anglia and everywhere was blanketed with snow giving the countryside the appearance of a traditional Christmas Card. Hickling Broad froze over and we were taken there for ice skating but I soon realised the bruises did not warrant the the slight pleasure of this pastime. With the coming of spring cycling became a real pleasure without the presence of motor cars and country around the Broads was virtually without hills.
With the evacuation from Dunkirk and the incereased activity in the Low Countries across the North Sea saw me returned home.
Awaiting scholarship results I eventuall y heard that pupils of East ham Grammar School for Boys were to be evacuated to Swindon.
I was billetted with Mr & Mrs Vowles at 61 Broome Manor Lane. The Vowles were a provincial middle class family who were affluent enough to own a Austin saloon car.
School days were relatively happy, the only drawback being the headmaster, Dr Jones who was veritable "Mr Queek" who had an unfortunate habit of appearing from the most unlikely corners.
The air attacks on London having abated by the summer of 1941 visits home became the norm and by January 1943 my old schoolhad reopened in the East ham Town Hall. My days as an evacuee had come to an end.

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