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Mrs Phippen is willing to have her story entered on to the People's War website and has agreed to abide by the House Rules.

Tribute to Frances Strudley - My Canadian Angel.

I met her on the doorstep of Hart House in Toronto. It was that warm summer evening of the 20th August 1940.

My twin sister, Christine and I were two C.O.R.B evacuees who had travelled from England on the 'Oronsay' the last shipload to arrive within the safety of the Canadian waters before the 'City of Benares' was torpedoed in mid Atlantic.

We stood there clutching our brown cases in total awe of this beautiful lady. "Just call me Auntie Frances" she said, hugging me tight.

The days and months that followed were unforgettable while the Battle of Britain was raging over our Kentish town back home. Auntie Frances was getting to grips with the complexities of two teenagers. She had no rule of thumb to go by, but her love for us knew no bounds.

As the day of our departure back to England on the 'Rangitiki' loomed in October 1944, I knew the love I held for this very special lady was unshakeable. Auntie Frances had become my Canadian angel. Canada had become my second home and I returned again and again to her welcoming arms.

So, how does one recall this experience of a lifetime? Growing up in the Strudley household in a town like Stratford with an angel like Auntie Frances was, in itself, a gift. She opened up doors and avenues for me.

I had failed my 11+ and missed great chunks of schooling back home, due to ill health, while my twin sister had soared ahead in her studies. After the dishes were done in the evening Auntie Frances and I would puzzle over the dreaded maths homework I was assigned and giggled over the 'omats' in my Latin grammar until I had caught up with my brainy sister.

So many memories...like the ice skates that arrived on Christmas Day...Snowfalls and clearing the sidewalks... learning to budget my spending money... summer camps... fireflies... maple syrup...writing letters home...and my deep and longing desire to become a trained nurse. They were all bound up with my love for Canada and Auntie Frances.

For over half a century the letters flew back and forth. She was always there for me, a quiet strength, a listening ear. She lived to be 97. Not a bad innings - for an angel!

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