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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Deena Campbell from CSV Action Desk on behalf of Mr Ronald Evans and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Evans fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

I was 8 when the War started, Living in Handsworth, Birmingham. I attended the local junior school called Saint Michaels on Soho Road.

I was granny reared, my father having died when I was 2. We were very poor indeed and my mother had to go out to work scrubbing floors at the local senior school, for a pittance. However we managed; I do not know how.

My mother decided that it was best if I was evacuated as soon as possible. I went from the school in a bus with about 12 others from school to a place called Sheepy Magna, Leicestershire, Near Atherstone.

When we arrived I was asked if I would like to live with the local school mistress or on a local farm; I chose the farm

The farm was run by a lady, a widow with three sons. She had a fourth son who ran another farm and three daughters who were all nurses. I only ever met one. She was very kind — really looked after me. I attended the local village school which was just opposite the farm.

The farm was very mixed. They had cows, a bull, sheep, chickens, pigs etc. So having come to the first part of my story, it soon became apparent that I was not going to be short of good food.

Chickens were used for food; also a pig was killed once a year, so we had pork and bacon. The chicken laid eggs and the cows provided milk. Butter and cheese were made by Mrs Salt, (The lady’s name.) The name of the farm was Greasley Farm. The cheese and butter was made in the dairy on the farm.

So you will see I never went short of dairy food at all, or good meat and being only eight years old it was all very good for me. There are many stories I could tell of my experiences on the farm; too many here to recall.

However that is not the whole story. All this produce was exchanged with the local shopkeepers in Atherstone for other rare foods. Tea, Coffee, Biscuits, Lard, lots of scarce fruit and of course clothes and footwear, all on the Black Market. Although I did not know it at the time I also ate moorhen’s eggs, plover eggs, wild rabbit etc.

So I did not go short of anything. I was very fortunate in this way.

Then when I was about ten and a half I was allowed to sit an exam at the village school, (with one class of about 12/15 pupils) to get to grammar school if I passed... My mother’s great aim for me.

I do remember one incident whilst I was sitting the exam in that the coal man arrived with coal to deliver. He needed to take it to the back yard of the school but had to go through the classroom where I was sitting my exam. There really was only one classroom in the school and one teacher, plus a part time assistant. So the teacher allowed me to take a 10 minute break while the coal was delivered.

All went fine and I learned a few weeks later that I had passed for the grammar school. The school was George Dixon, in City Road, Edgbaston, Birmingham.
This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Deena Campbell from CSV Action Desk on behalf of Mr Ronald Evans and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Evans fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

Well I was then told that I had to leave Sheepy and go to the grammar school that the George Dixon boys were evacuated to, which was Bridgenorth Grammar School, Shropshire.

So it was all arranged and low and behold when I arrived in Bridgenorth I had been evacuated to the home of a Mr and Mrs Roden. Guess what? They owned the biggest grocers Bridgenorth so all that tea and sugar and all the rest of it was available in any quantities and like the farm exchanges were made with local farmers for the foods provided by such farmers, just like in Sheepy only in reverse.

I am very mindful of all the shortages that were prevalent in the war, and I know a lot of people went very short, with the ration books and all that. Ration books did not mean anything to me and to this day after I realised how fortunate I had been I do feel somewhat guilty of it.

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