大象传媒

This story A7349493 has been submitted by The British Schools Museum, with Mrs Goble's permission.

In the spring of 1939 I was five years old and staying with a recently widowed aunt in Old Coulsdon, where I had started school at Easter. By the outbreak of war in September, plans had already been made to evacuate thousands of school children to safer areas of the country. I had two older sisters who attended a local secondary school, and special arrangements were made for me to be allowed to be evacuated with them. We all went to Brighton on Sunday, 3rd September. My sisters went to live at the large home of a solicitor who served as a Special Police Officer in his spare time. I was billeted with a married couple elsewhere, and attended a school there. After a while I was moved in with my sisters and so started at my third school. By the middle of 1940 it was thought to be safe enough for me to return to my own home, in South Croydon, Surrey.

My father had been digging a huge trench in the chalk of our back garden where an Anderson shelter was later installed. My parents tried to make it comfortable with old matting around the 'walls' and a piece of sacking hanging across the doorway. Some outdoor 'matresses' had been provided, a wooden outline covered with criss-cross galvanised wires. When the sirens went we would all go down into the shelter, carrying blankets and candles.

It was not long before a bomb fell nearby, our ceilings came down and our windows were blown in from the blast. As our house was then uninhabitable we moved to another, quite nearby.

During this period my mother had been doing her 'bit for the war effort' by serving in the canteen of a local tank repair works The establishment had been the Ford car showrooms in peace-time, at South Croydon. The tanks were tested in the yard behind on land which had become full of craters and little hills.

I was then attending my fourth school, St Peter's church school, which was a little flint faced building near to the tank workshop. I remember going there to have my lunch, sitting behind and below the counter where my mother was serving lunches to the workers. One day I was given a ride in a tank out in the yard - it was very exciting, going up and down over the bumps and down into the dips.

Later that same year, the bombings became very frequent and I was soon to be evacuated again, hence I was about to start at my fifth school at six years of age.

Dressed in warm clothing, probably wearing some extras to save me having to carry them, I was sent off with my gas-mask in a box on a string around my neck and with a label giving my name and home address pinned to my overcoat. I remember going on a train with a large number of other children (to Old Woking, as I later found out). On arrival we were all lined up in crocodile formation, accompanied by two ladies, who were probably teachers or members of the W.V.S. acting as Billeting Officers.

We walked up and down various residential streets as the children at the front were of the line were handed in to stay in houses where it was considered they had room to accommodate an evacuee. I was near the back and I recall becoming very tired, the string of my gas mask box was cutting into my neck and I was near to tears.

When my turn came I was marched up to a front door which was opened by a wizened little lady in a 'wraparound' pinafore of the fashion of the day. It was clear to me that she was not at all pleased but, nonetheless, I was ushered in and the front door closed behind me. I found myself in the gloomy little hallway of a small house. My hostess, Mrs O'Connor, had a daughter of about my own age whose pale face and brilliant ginger hair rather intimidated me, as I had never seen such hair before.

The two of them were very frosty towards me throughout my stay. I remember them standing watching, and laughing, as I ate my meals - perhaps my table manners were different.

I know now that bathrooms were not so common in the 1940's but we did have one at home. It may be that there was no bathroom in that house as the only opportunity I ever had to wash was to reach up to the taps in the big stone sink in the kitchen, to wash my hands. It was not long before I was curious to observe little white lines appearing on my forearms where the water had run through the grime. I soon began to feel very dirty and my teeth were never cleaned.

The only thing I remember about the school I attended whilst living with the O'Connors was the walk home - because I had such difficulty remembering the way and some of the other children would tease me.

One day I was in far a big surprise. A strange lady came for me and took me to what I now recognise was some sort of clinic. I was given no explanation before being told to take all my clothes off. This was such an affront to my dignity that I resisted to the extent that I had to be forcibly stripped. Then the strangest thing happened - someone painted me all over with a strong smelling lotion. It transpired that I had acquired scabies and this was the standard treatment of the time.

Some time after this incident I was considered to be 'out of control' although I was never aware of being badly behaved. I was then sent to live in some sort of home for disobedient children, Danes Park. My experience there was enlightening, I was amazed at the unrepeatable antics of these children. We all attended a local school. Somewhere, in between all these moves, I lost my favourite soft toy, a white rabbit with pink velvet trousers.

Once my mother heard of this move she soon arranged for me to be found another billet, this time to the home of a warm and friendly family - Mr and Mrs Chapman and their daughter Pamela. Mr Chapman had a greengrocer鈥檚 shop at the bottom of the road. I was fascinated to see him boiling his beetroots in an old copper in our back garden.

I lived very happily with the Chapmans far about two years, attending yet another school. During this time my little brother joined me when he was about 2陆 years old. He used to sit on the back door step next to the family Scotty dog. My brother loved this dog and often hugged it, rather too enthusiastically around its neck, with the result that he acquired a number of little bites. He continued to love dogs throughout his life but always carried the scars on his face.

I think I returned home in 1942. I started at my eighth school, Winterboume Junior, at Thornton Heath, where my sisters had attended.

Food was very tightly rationed so my Mother impressed upon me the importance of eating all my midday meal. As I lived too far away from home to return for lunch I was issued with vouchers for exchange at a Civic Restaurant, about a mile from school, where local workers ate. I don't think schools had kitchens to provide meals in those days.

One day, as I was about to set off to walk to the restaurant, a classmate, Bessie Bloomberg, invited me to go home with her instead - she was sure her mother would be happy to give me lunch. I was apprehensive as I thought this unlikely but eventually I was persuaded. When we reached Bessie's home and her Mother opened the door, I was very quickly sent away. I was not at all surprised but I went without any lunch that day.

When the V2's, the 'doodle bugs', started I was off again on my travels, this time to the north of England. I went with my Aunt and stayed with various relatives for a period of some months. Hence a further selection of schools, before returning home near the end of the war. I was still to attend two more schools then, from home, before reaching the leaving age of 15 years.

Other stories by Mrs Goble can be found at articles A4422980, A4422917, A4423033, A7349259, A7349808.

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