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At the age of nine I was evacuated with my 14 year old sister. We left home very early on Saturday Sept.2nd and boarded a pleasure steamer called ‘The Royal Daffodil’ and were with most of the children of Gravesend in Kent, including our future husbands.
We were taken out to sea and up the east coast to Lowest regardless of any possible danger from enemy action. Lowestoft was not prepared for a sudden influx of hundreds of school children, so we rocked gently in the harbour for some hours, by which time most of the children were being copiously seasick. Finally they decided to take us to a nearby cinema and, with a couple of blankets and some straw, we bedded down for the night. Buckets of water were provided for washing and we were given some sandwiches.
Next morning, bleary-eyed we took a walk along the sea-front where I saw my first porpoises. By mid-day we learnt that War had been declared. We only had a vague idea where we were, and when we boarded some buses and were driven out into the countryside, we tried to follow the road—signs which at that time were still standing, but the names meant nothing to us. (Later the sign posts were all removed to prevent any invading Germans knowing where they were!)
Finally we arrived at the small town of Diss and were led into a church hall. Here the women of the town chose the best - looking and cleanest (usually pretty blonde-haired girls). My sister insisted we stayed together so when a woman came up and said she could take 20 girls for a few weeks we shot our hands up and were taken to a small boarding school. When the boarders returned for the new term most of the evacuees were sent to private homes but a few were allowed to remain and we spent the next six months there, but had our school lessons with the other evacuees, until I fell ill with styes on my eyes and was very run-down. Then I was allowed to go to lessons with the boarders.
As I was the baby of the school entering Grammar School at nine to be with my sister, I was allowed home early each day, and I walked back to the boarding school by myself across main roads but there was little traffic in those days. Mornings were spent in a Salvation Army hut. It had ‘Tortoise’ coke heaters that warmed the outside world and about six inches round the stove inside. It was a bitter winter with heavy snow and I used to cry with the cold. We had chilblains on hands and fingers, heels and toes. These itched terribly and if scratched were very painful.
The following Easter we begged to go home and found ourselves in Edgware, North London, our parents having moved while we were away; but after three or four months we were again asking to be evacuated as the Battle of Britain had started and had frightening nights every night. Our parents found out where our old school had moved to and we were soon back with our friends, but this time in Exmouth, staying with a childless couple who tried very hard to be kind but were not used to having children in their home. We stayed for another six months and by Easter 1941 we were back in Gravesend, our parents having moved again. We went to the Grammar School with the girls who had not been evacuated and we spent the remainder of the war in that town coping with night-time air-raids and later with doodlebugs and V.2. rockets, but nothing would induce us to leave home again even though we had been treated very well.
I preferred the doodlebugs and rockets to the bombs. You could hear and see the doodlebugs coming and when they were overhead and still moving you knew you were safe. You only knew the V.2.’s had come when you heard the explosion so once again you knew you had survived and carried on with what you were doing. With bombs it was a different matter. Everything was happening around you and you had no idea whether you would survive or not. As a child it was very difficult to tell the guns from the bombs and consequently I was in a very high state of nervous apprehension until the All-Clear sounded. The throb of the German bombers flying overhead was terrifying and a sound I have never forgotten. The only happy outcome to the disturbed nights was walking to school looking for shrapnel which for some strange reason we prized like jewels and kept safely in small boxes. Also collected were metal strips which were supposed to disorganise the enemy’s radar.
We had a very healthy diet with lots of vegetables and little sugar. Very few sweets could be bought on coupons. Every time you bought some the coupons were removed from the ration book by the shopkeeper. My mother used to exchange tea for sugar with her friends and was able to make jam. Eggs were scarce (one a week) but tins of dried egg became available near the end of the war and made excellent scrambled egg and omelettes and also cakes and puddings. It was an alarming yellow and probably full of chemicals but it tasted alright.
Toilet paper was a luxury and it was a great day when my friend’s father presented my mother with a pile of rolls — cut-offs from the local paper-mill and hard as brown paper. You had to screw it up to soften it before use.
When the D.Day preparations began we all felt involved in the great secret as side streets began to fill with parked army vehicles and when Peace finally came the sense of relief was indescribable when it dawned on us that we would never have to experience air-raids again or be parted from our parents.

entered by Petersfield Library

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