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It was Spring, 1940. I was eleven, the sixth child in a family of seven.( My two older brothers had joined the RAF, my oldest sister was at teacher training college .) My siblings, who ranged in age from eight to twenty three were scattered about because of the war. We lived in Great Yarmouth and all the schools were being evacuated.

My youngest sister and I had been sent to my aunt and uncle in the country on the day war broke out, but I had been brought back to take the scholarship (as it was called then) After we had sat the exam our school was to be evacuated.

On the appointed day my mother delivered me to the school where we had to assemble to take the coach to our destination. This was Llangold in Nottinghamshire. My mother walked back and waited by the train station so she could wave as our coach went past. We were all excited and laughing and I can see my mother now, waving and smiling as the tears ran down her face. It was something I can never forget and I am crying now as I write this!

I remember nothing of the journey but it must have taken two or three hours. When we arrived we were taken in groups by the teachers to our ‘billets’ My best friend, Jaqueline, and I were together We were delivered to a miner’s cottage and I began to feel upset. It was not very clean and we did not feel welcome. The woman,(I never knew her name), took us to the room and showed us the bed we had to share with her younger child who was about eight. It was distinctly grubby and the child slept in a grubby petticoat. Our clothes had been put into drawers.

I began to cry, but Jaqueline seemed to be all right I soon made up my mind that I was not going to stay. I stopped crying, put all my things back in the case, and slept. In the morning Jaqueline had begun to cry but I was determined. I went and found two of our teachers, (one was our class teacher) , and told them we were not staying. We were moved the same day. What a difference we found in our new billet with Mr and Mrs Hughes. He was a miner too. They were so warm and welcoming. Jaqueline and I were still rather tearful but Mr Hughes took us through to the parlour. He took a jug out of a cabinet, put it on the table, and told me to pick it up. It played ‘The Bluebells of Scotland’ I had never seen anything like it before and my tears disappeared like magic. Then he brought us pen and paper and told us to write home, and tell our parents we were fine. That was the beginning of my life as an evacuee.

Jean Naylor (nee Frost)

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Pat Oakley (volunteer ) and has been added to the web site on behalf of Jean Naylor with her permission and she fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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