大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War website by Sue Sutton on behalf of Doris Lobb, the author and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Dad sat outside the back door, and with our next door neighbour watched the German aircraft returning home. It was said that they got their bearings from the sand burrows which marked out our area as Mid Cornwall - Falmouth to the south west of us, and Torpoint and Plymouth to the east of us. There was no reason why our area should be attacked, which was one of the reasons why city children were evacuated to my and the surrounding villages. However there were a few casualties - whole families wiped out when the German aircraft, wanting to lighten their load on their way home just dropped their bombs. For the most part they tended to hit houses standing on their own - not really isolated, but small holdings or farm houses. Whether this was a deliberate direct hit, or bad judgement, who can tell. So Nanpean and the surrounding villages were relatively safe places. So it was that on this particular February lunch time, with snow on the ground that I came into this world. The second child and first daughter of my parents. It was 1941, and dad had not yet been called up. Like all births in the area, the District nurse was in attendance. The joy of a new baby soon turned to anxiety and despair when my mother became ill; and so began the struggle to hang on to our lives. After six months it became clear that the worst was over, and my mother would live, and against all the odds and with my mother's determination and will power, despite being so very ill, this little scrap of humanity had more or less retained her birth weight, and from then onwards started to thrive. I was quite tiny for many years (who'd believe that now!) However what I lacked in size, I made up for in other ways. According to my mother I could sing in tune before I could talk, and like all children, once I started to talk, I never stopped. My father reckoned that I was born with a gramophone needle in my arm! My mother used to read stories. My brother and his friends were quite content to sit and listen until she finished - not me! Why did he do that? Why did she go there? What's that picture saying?

My brother was three and a half years older than me, so was always my big brother. Like most boys he would get into scrapes with the other lads in the road. If I were around, I would stand with my hands on my hips like a washer woman and say 'You leave my Henry alone' I think that this probably continued until I was about 5 years old, when I was told that I must keep quiet when Henry and his friends were disagreeing!

We travelled very little during the war, but I do remember my mother taking my brother and me to visit her sister who lived in Millbrook. While we were there on one occasion bombs were dropped on Torpoint or Plymouth, and the sky was lit up. My uncle was in the Home Guard, and was called out. So the whole house was awake during the early hours of the morning. As we looked out of the window up into the sky, my mother's explanation to us was that these were pretty lights. No indication at all that there was any danger; so there was no reason to be afraid; and we were content. Most of the time we made our own fun. A favourite past time was 'putting on concerts' this was usually in next door's wash house or the parents garage of two of the older girls. Why we needed money, I don't know, but from the age of about two and a half, or as soon as I could talk, I was sent to knock on everyone's door and ask for a penny for the concert. Perhaps it was for candles!! Music was provided by an old gramophone, and singing, dancing and recitations were the order of the day. On one occasion two of the older girls were dancing and singing to 'Money is the root of all evil', when one of the feet touched a candlestick, and it flew to the other end of the garage. Great consternation! the candlesticks had been temporarily removed from the piano without permission. 'My gar Maureen, what'll Ma say when she finds out. You should'n took 'em'. Being very young, I never was aware whether Ma found out!!

Unlike today, most of our childhood was spent playing outside with the neighbouring children. No computers or televisions then. No worries about children being abducted by undesirables. For a start, everyone knew everyone else, and we grew up knowing whom we should avoid, and if a strange face showed itself in the village, it was commented upon, and it wouldn't be long before it was known who they were and where they had come from. Whether the information was accurate or not, we never knew. Sufficient to say, it was known that they were around! There were a few evacuees in the village - one in our house before I was born, and occasionally some of the mothers came down to see them, but their faces would soon be known.

The News Chronicle newspaper was delivered each day, and at the end of the week, they were given to one of our neighbours who owned a fish and chip shop in the village. On one occasion my mother allowed me to give them to his wife. She gave me a sweet-not plentiful back then. To my mother's horror, after saying Thank You, I then asked her for one for my brother. When she had recovered the power of speech, my mother explained that I was a very lucky girl, and I should never ask for anything.

We children would spend many hours climbing the sand burrows. We would pretend that we were climbing mountains, and plant a Union Jack on the top. I don't think we climbed the 'working burrows' very often, that is the ones on which the wagons deposited their sand, but there were several heaps around that were no longer used by the works. Part of the fun was to see who could reach the top first, and then who could get to the bottom first without falling over. Running down without falling over didn't happen very often, Then, at best we suffered gravel rash, and at worst had a bad gash on our legs where we'd fallen into a piece of galvanise that had once served as the roof of a chicken coup beneath the sand burrow; had been blown away in a gale of wind and perched itself in the sand just in place to get in our way as we tumbled down to the bottom. When the cuts were bad, and deep and the blood poured forth, we would have to stop - sometimes for a few days; but we'd be back. We had to prove that we could run down the burrow without falling over.

At some stage during the War, the Americans drove through the village. The older children talked about how they were given chewing gum by these soldiers. On one occasion when my father was on leave, the four of us walked to Indian Queens - about four and a half to five miles away to visit my aunt and her family. On our way home, we saw an American approaching. Henry said, 'I'm going to ask him for some gum. Dad said, 'Don't you dare'. As we approached, to my parent's horror, a little voice was heard to say, 'Any dum chum?' Henry protested his innocence, 'It wasn't me, daddy, it wasn't me.' The adults stopped and spoke, but I cannot remember whether or not he had any gum. Once my parents recovered from the shock, it was a memory which caused much amusement. The war years were a time when the roads were a playing place. Very few cars and lorries passed through. If a clay lorry passed by, we'd pick up pieces of clay that fell off, and use it to make out a hop scotch pad, and then play hop scotch. We'd get out of the way if a vehicle or horse and trap came along, or the very occasional bus, and then continue with our game.

Apart from our everyday playing, most of our life centred around our Church. We went to Sunday School for three quarters of an hour before morning service, where we sang hymns, choruses and were told a Bible story by the Sunday School superintendent. We went into morning service and stayed until just before the sermon began. We called it 'half time'! Once a child became twelve years old they were expected to stay for the whole service. Then in the afternoon we would go to Sunday School again, for an hour. This was when we went into our classes, according to age. As we grew older, we went to evening service as well - this was certainly a 'Day of Rest'!

Much of the village entertainment was Church based. We had the married men's concert, the married women's concert, the Sunday School concert and the Band of Hope concert. All were followed by a supper. Since there were few unmarried people around, those adults who were single joined their married friends at their concerts! These concerts were an excellent introduction to performing in public, and Sunday School Anniversaries played a special part. Anniversary was always a special occasion. New dresses each year, and for many of us a new bonnet every other year. My mother made all of our clothes, so we were very lucky. Every year she would be up until very late on the previous Saturday finishing the dresses. From the age of three onwards we would all take part, learning our verses, recitations and songs in what was known as a Demonstration song service. Once we attended school, and I started school at the age of four years, we would be expected to say our recitations to our teacher to make sure that we knew it and got the expression right. As now, some parents, including mine, made sure that we learnt them at home, got the expression right, and spoke loudly and clearly enough for them to hear us in the back row. My mother was extremely irritated by badly spoken recitations and bad reading. So we children were put through our paces! The Children's service took place during the afternoon, and then in the evening the choir would sing three anthems, and then the whole Sunday's proceedings would be repeated on the next Sunday - Trinity Sunday which was known as Choir Sunday. this was always referred to as 'The Repeating'! While we were in Sunday School, the boys sat on one side of the room, and the girls sat on the other. We had seats with adjustable backs. There was a slit at each end of the seat, the width of the seat, so that if you wanted to look the other way, you just moved the seat back the other way.

During the week after Anniversary we had Tea Treat. This consisted of a large saffron bun, and a mug of sweet tea poured from an earthenware urn. Then we went down to the Bottoms and had a series of races. I think that the prizes were - in old pence - threepence for first, twopence for second and a penny for third.

Each summer we had our Sunday School outing to either Falmouth or St Ives. At one time there would be five coaches taking us. Back in those days going to Falmouth or St Ives would have been a bit of a nightmare by public transport - worse even than today. Some people, when they knew that we were going to Falmouth would complain that it was too far from the town. We always went to Gyllanvase beach, and parked as near as we could to the beach. It was pointed out time after time that it was the children's outing, but they were never convinced that they were not hard done by, as they caught the bus into the town. Back then, many parents went with their children because it was an outing. Those children travelling on their own tagged on to other families. I do not remember there ever being any problems - all children did as ther were told. Those children who had come on their own stayed close to the family they latched on to - probably fearing that if they let them out of their sight, they might be left behind.

Faith teas were a common occurrence when I was young. Every special occasion had a faith tea, when the four trestle tables were covered with white damask tablecloths, and the bone china crockery and the silver tea services were used. The women took in turns 'tending table' - and jealously made sure that they took their rightful turn. The tables were of course laden with food even when rationing was at its height. Looking back I think it must have been any excuse for a tea or supper, because whether it was a concert or a special service, the tables were always laden with food. Washing up took place on a chair behind the table, using an enamel bowl. Hot water was provided by boiling it in a Burco wash boiler. The so called kitchen would be full of steam, and in any case it was always damp. It wouldn't pass any inspection today!

Each Christmas everyone, as now, has a Christmas tree. The tree would have been a holly one - no one had a fir tree. Each family would cut their Christmas tree from where ever they could find one - fields or woods. It would never occur to anyone that these trees were on private property. Our tree decorations were those which my parents had possessed before the war. Our room decorations were paper chains and other hand made decorations which we as a family made.

I started school at the age of four, just as the war was ending. We lived at one end of the village and the school was at the other. We walked of course, whatever the weather, we walked home for our lunch and back again for the afternoon session. Sometimes, on the way home, some children would buy a pennyworth of chips in a three corner bag. How I envied them! Our school at Nanpean was an all age one, divided into four classes. Every morning the whole school (probably not more than sixty pupils - I can't really remember) would assemble in the Infant's Class room for Prayers. I loved the singing; we just picked up the words as the years went by. I particularly remember 'Daisies are our silver'. We always finished the day with a hymn such as 'Hear the pennies dropping', and a prayer. Rationing continued for many years after 1945, and I remember going to the grocers with my coupons for my quarter pound of sweets. The sweets were of course in the large glass jars with a screw on and off metal lid. While at the grocers, I watched cheese being cut, and it was always my childhood dream to be able to cut cheese with that wire.

Life continued pretty much in the same way for the next few years after the war. Gradually of course, changes took place. I suspect that adults who had to live through the worries of the war found it a nightmare, but to we village children, life was very good.

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