´óÏó´«Ã½

I was eleven years old and an evacuee, staying with two old women in Folkestone. I was from London but it was considered too dangerous for me to stay there. Some nights, in Folkestone, we were awoken by the noisy shelling of the coast. One day, I was playing outside the house. I looked up and who should turn the corner into our road, than one of the people whom I most adored in the world — my father. Hardly believing this, I tore down the road to meet him. He told me that tomorrow we were moving to Wales. The shelling was dangerous. He said that he had stayed in Wales once in the Rhonda Valley. The people were great.

That afternoon and evening was perfect bliss. We went shopping and I was bought a pair of chunky heeled black shoes from Baras. My mother had disapproved earlier when I had asked for them. I remember my father saying ‘Nevermind she’ll find them fun. They are cheap and will wear out.’ I had an ally and diplomatically ignored the latter remark. Then we went to the Lyons Tea Shop and later crept into the cinema to rock with laughter at the antics of Old Mother Riley and her daughter, gorging ourselves with KitKat chocolate bars. A day to remember.

12 hours later, we were ushered onto an already crowded train. For what seemed hours, we chugged through the countryside, finally halting at a small station flanked either side with black slag-heaps, towering over us. How small I felt!

For two months, I spent an unhappy time with the local grocer and his wife. They were kind but their ways were not my ways. How he gurgled his soup and swore.

Summer holidays arrived and I found myself on the train back to London. Daddy was at the station. The train ride seemed an eternity. I ran ahead down our road as fast as I could. I banged the front door knocker violently and rang the bell. Would Mummy ever come? She opened the door and I burst into tears. Never, I vowed, would I go back to Wales again. Nor did I for many a year, as I insisted and was allowed, to stay in London during the Blitz at home.

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