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I was born in 1932 in West Ham, in the East End of London. At the outbreak of the Second World War my brother, sister and I attended Carpenters Road Elementary School, when it was decided that all pupils and staff were to be evacuated.

My brother Ron, aged 11, my sister, aged 8 and I were evacuated together to a village called Boxsted, Essex. I cannot remember how long it took us to get there but I do vividly remember standing on the platform waiting for the train with all the other children. I wore a navy blue coat, with long socks and shoes and around my neck hung a label with my name on. I also had with me my gas mask, which I carried in a cream box. Until that time I had never even been out of the East End of London.

The next thing I remember is that we were standing on the corner of a village street; everybody was taken away apart from the three of us. Eventually, because nobody was able to take three children, my brother was taken by a farmer and his wife and my sister and I were taken to live with a Mr and Mrs Weaver in their small holding.

It was wonderful, such a contrast from London; everything was so clean. I remember seeing our bedroom for the first time; it was white and pale green with lovely windows which looked out on to the lawn, where we used to sometimes have tea as a special treat.

Mr and Mrs Weaver, whom we knew as Aunty May and Uncle Tom, gave us jobs to do and one of my favourites was to collect eggs from under the chickens. The eggs were always warm and some had feathers sticking to them. After we collected the eggs we had to wash them and put them into the boxes ready for collection by the Egg Marketing Board. If any of the eggs were cracked Aunty May would use them to cook with but it meant that they lost a halfpenny on each egg to the Egg Marketing Board.

There were fruit orchards and there were always apples in a large barn; each day we were allowed to go and pick a fresh apple to take to school — such a treat!

The Weavers also kept chickens and pigs. Uncle Tom always said that the best pig was the laziest! They were friends with the Gatekeeper of the local psychiatric hospital and his wife, Mr and Mrs Paig. Uncle Tom had an arrangement with them that he would collect the swill from the hospital for the pigs. My sister and I used to enjoy going along with him to collect it in a swinging, two wheel bin.

One day when we were in school we heard such a commotion and when we looked out of the window we saw a pig which had escaped. We chased down the lane after the pig — I thought this was hilarious and I laughed with delight!

The Weavers were members of a Spiritualist Church and we attended a service each Sunday. Once a month, on a Monday evening, they held a séance in the front room so my sister and I had to be in bed early that night! We also attended Sunday School each week and, although it was quite a long walk for us we enjoyed it.

My brother did not like his time away from home. We did not see much of him, but I do have a photograph taken with him so I think the two families must have made an effort to keep us in contact with each other. He returned to London before my sister and myself.

Return to the East End:
My parents decided that they missed my sister and I too much so it was arranged for us to return to our home in London. I do not remember how or when it happened but I do remember being back in the East End; back to the bombing and the rocket attacks.

I remember on one occasion when my Mother was dishing out the meal we heard a bomb being dropped. We all dived down below the table as glass showered across the room. The frightening thing about a rocket attack was when there was no sound.

One night an incendiary bomb fell on the Yardley’s cosmetics building which was quite close to where we lived. With a friend, I went to have a look at the huge fire we had heard was raging. In a funny sort of way it was quite beautiful. I still remember the outside of the building with its cream tiles and the painting of the Yardley ‘Lavender Lady’.

At school we were taught how to react if a plane was coming over. We were told to go to the wall and lay flat against the bottom of it. The theory of this was that if you were tucked in tight against the wall when the building collapsed it would fall over you and not on top of you.

We did not have our own air raid shelter at home as our own backyard was too small; instead we shared a Nissan shelter with a neighbour. One night a doodlebug landed on a shop, opposite our house. It destroyed half of our house. We were trapped in the shelter for quite some time until we managed to dig our way out. I remember we had no shoes on that night as we walked to our Grandmother’s house.

When it first opened a few years ago I visited the Imperial War Museum with my grandchildren. We sat inside an Anderson Shelter. When I heard the sound of the doodlebug after all those years I immediately ducked to avoid it, then I burst into tears. It was all so realistic it brought those childhood memories flooding back.

After our house was bombed we stayed with my Grandmother for a couple of days before we were re-housed to Plaistow, again in the East End of London, where as a family we lived for many years after the war; in fact I lived there until I was married. There was a church at the end of the road which had been bombed where all children used to play. We were so excited when one day we found a tightly wrapped brown paper parcel amongst the debris. We were not so excited when we opened it up and found a dead baby inside. That is probably one of my saddest memories of the War.

Rationing:
After the War we still had rationing. My Mother was pregnant and had been issued with a ‘Green Ration Book’; only given to expectant mothers. This entitled her to bananas whenever they were available. I remember my Mother sending me to stand in a queue during my school break whenever she heard that a ship had landed with bananas on board!

When I was 14 I went to work in the City. Along with my best friend, we worked near to a Maynard’s sweet shop. Sweets were now coming off rationing. Every day during our lunch time we would walk past the shop and drool as the window filled up with so many sweets, some of which we had not seen for years. My friend and I spent much of our time talking about which sweets we would choose when we were finally able to buy some!!

I really can’t remember exactly how long I was evacuated for but I think it was for approximately two years. I kept in contact with my ‘wartime parents’ until they died and will always be grateful for the happy times I spent with them. Although I was happy in the East End of London and still have strong ties with that area I enjoyed my time in rural England; I especially remember the gentility of the people. In fact, looking back, to me it was a huge adventure………..

We were later sent to Rochdale where we were billeted in an awful drab house, so dark it was frightening. Then a friend of my Mum’s brother, who lived in Rochdale, had the two of us to stay with them. They had twin girls; Alice and Glenda; Alice used to work in a cotton mill and wore clogs to work. I still correspond with Glenda - everyone else is deceased.

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