大象传媒

3 NIDDERDALE

Nothing will diminish my admiration of the government facilities concerned with evacuation in the 1940s. For a second time we were found a billet which kept us all together.

We were whisked away by LNER train from our battered home in Eltham to Leeds. All we had was what we could salvage and carry. My elder brother and I made sure this included our cocoa tins full of shrapnel!

Bedraggled by lack of sleep and uncomfortably grubby for want of a bath all six of us and Mum were taken to temporary lodgings. It was Meanwood Mental Hospital. 'Got to the right place at last', quipped Mum. We were given a small ward and all slept in that one room, mind you it was a great improvement to all sleeping in an Anderson shelter.

Within a week we were off again to Killinghall near Harrogate. Once more great efforts must have been made to keep us all together since we found ourselves allotted to Mrs Jowett at Hollins Hall. I have no wish to underestimate the impact such a family as ours had on the two big houses we lived in but have to say Hollins Hall for us simply did not work. . In spite of the hazards of war hardly having reached this part of Yorkshire and the cruel experiences of the blitz from whence we had come we were made to feel unwelcome by Mrs Jowett, quite the opposite to the Tallent's at St John's. However we were grateful for the peace and quiet and the chance to get some normal sleep and food.

Perhaps Mrs Jowett had some bitter experiences of previous evacuees (tho. nothing was known of them) but we felt constricted and frustrated. 'Don't go round the front of the Hall!'.' Stay in the dingy yard surrounded on three side by the walls of the house!'. ' No noise! ' 'Keep out of the gardens!'. This portrayed the sort of atmosphere in which we were allowed to live. Inside we had to keep to the unused servants wing which had little furniture ...just enough bits and pieces to allow us to sit at a table and sleep in a bed. . A heavy door at the end of our passage was defended by Mr Gamble, the butler, whose pantry was on our side of the door.There was'nt actually a sign saying 'KEEP OUT' but we all knew we were banned beyond that point and none of us ever knew until years later what lay in that posh part of Hollins Hall.

Over 50 years later when the Hall lay empty Yorkshire TV was filming some of the series 'The Way We Used to Live' and asked me to be part of the story of life during and just after the War. One scene was for me to walk up the grand staircase explaining on the way what it felt like walking on forbidden territory. I could only answer 'oppressed'. We were not wanted and that was a dreadful feeling.

Having only the clothes we could pick out of the wreckage of our London house, within the first week we were taken into Harrogate to be fitted out by the Women's Voluntary Service (WVS) Now, even tho we were all well accustomed to 'cousin's cast offs' and 'pass me down clothes ' within the family, having to publicly show our poverty was a humiliating experience. Bad enough for we three boys but probably worse for our three sisters?

The WVS did sterling work at that time and deep down we were thankful for their help yet the jacket and short trousers which came my way must have been previously worn by a boy from a public school.! It was all gold braid round the cuffs, pockets, collar and lapels. Upon arriving back at Hollins Hall I stated flatly 'I'm not wearing THEM'. Mum spent hours picking off all the braid. That left a sort of clear mark where the braid had come from but that was infinitely better than walking round tarted up like a cissy.

School at the two roomed school in Killinghall came with a renewal of my faith in human beings. We were treated kindly and with understanding by the two teachers. Miss Fawcett was the Head.

It is odd how tiny incidents are remembered and how they can have a long term effect. On our way to school from Hollins Hall to Killinghall, a distance of around two miles, on a cold windy winter's morning we met some evacuees from Leeds. I had chilblains on my ears and covered them with my hands,and a lad called Riley asked me what my trouble was and I told him. 'Here, lad', he said 'this'll warm thee lugs' He took off his balacalava and handed it to me. Now that small incident lead me to an affection for Yorkshire which I have never lost!

We stayed at Hollins Hall for about three months. The fact that we were unnaturally limited as to what we could and could not do caused we boys to get away from the environs of the Hall whenever possible. From the Home Farm run by Len and Dot Johnson (they had two evacuees called Anne and Marjorie) I ventured to the next farm known as Levens Hall. Here I followed Charlie Hornshaw and John Pybus around the farm, helping where I could with all the labouring jobs these two did. I was enthralled to be helping with t' osses, Dolly, Fanny, Violet and Dick. Watching Charlie plough with Dolly and Fanny was a rare sight. I was to be employed on this farm three years later with those same horses.

I continued to help at Levens Hall after Mum managed to find us a house in the next village up Nidderdale, Hampsthwaite. I value to this day my experiences of an agriculture which had only just begun to change after hundreds of years. First I had to achieve 'leaving school' at the age of fourteen ( actually 13 since my birthday being 7th January I should have gone back for another term but flatly refused!), then six months of being apprentice to Mr Littlewood a joiner, cabinet maker and undertaker. He was in his sixties and a wise man who knew how apprenices ticked.

Back to the land when Mr Littlewood had to go into hospital and fighting my way into that working Hampsthwaite village community until I was accepted not as an evacuee but as Ken Targett the farm worker who lived at Rowden House. I was soon to be employed by an agricultural contractor driving Standard Fordson tractors all round the Nidderdale, Harrogate and even the Borough Bridge area....the lack of a driving licence seemed not to matter!

Came the day when the European war ended and we had our village concert to celebrate the fact. The prospect of leaving Nidderdale at the age of 17 was dreadful. I had to leave my friends, among whom was the girl I loved , a farmer's daughter, with whom I had spent much time at village old time dances, the Lancers, St Bernards Waltz, Schotisch or Paliglide ...what memories!

But evacuation came to an end. We were back in our pebble dashed council estate. So much did I miss Hampsthwaite and Kettlesing that I instantly volunteered for the army and within a few weeks was a soldier remotely hoping that perhaps I would be posted to Yorkshire!!

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