大象传媒

In 1939 I was eight years old and my name was Eileen Mary Patterson. When the war started I was a pupil at Roscoe Council School, Tuebrook, Liverpool and it was decided that children in the area should be evacuated. My mother took the opportunity to get me out of the danger area and preparations were made.

When the time came I was ready with my enamel plate and mug (with my name painted on them), a gas mask and clothes. I remember having toothache when we assembled at the school and one of the teachers took me into the cloakroom to give me an aspirin. All the children then walked to Tuebrook railway station in a long crocodile to catch the train to Mold.

On arrival at Mold I was duly delivered to a family living in Grosvenor Crescent (?) I think their name was Williams. After a while my mother and baby brother came to Mold for a short time to stay with the Williams' married daughter who lived nearby. My friend was allocated to a Mr Tombs the Dentist who lived in a very posh house and we lost contact.

It is difficult to remember details of my stay but odd memories do return at times! The father was a cobbler who made clogs. I often went to his workshop in the centre of Mold (opposite the cinema). The stairs were outside and I used to watch, fascinated, as he threw a handful of nails into his mouth, spitting them out one at a time to hammer them into the clogs. Many times I had to take out his midday meal to him - a box of food and a can of tea. Occasionally I went in with his wife to take risen bread to be baked in the baker's big ovens.

I had quite a mop of red hair at the time and it was decided that I should have it cut so I was taken to a hairdresser on the corner opposite the Town Hall. I was given a severe 'bob' which I did not like at all. One of the last things I recall from Mold is that the daughter of the house had twin boys born there (they will be well over 60 years old now) and we went to the big church (C of E I think) up at the top of Mold centre for the christening.

I have travelled through Mold many times since but I have never visited the house again - Mold has changed a great deal of course. Incidentally, the whole of the time I was there I never spoke a word of Welsh. I returned to Liverpool after a year or so - my mother and baby brother having returned long before me. However it started to get dangerous in Liverpool - enemy air attacks were frequent and as we lived near a railway station I was sent off again - this time to Cyffylliog five miles outside Ruthin.

We arrived at Cyffylliog at night and were taken to a basement room in the Chapel to be chosen by ladies who were willing to accept us. The Rector's wife chose me and another girl. Her name was Eileen Nicholson and as my name was also Eileen I was to be called Mary, which is my second name, to avoid confusion. The Rectory was a lovely big house overlooking the village with splendid gardens all around and down to a five foot wall. Once whilst playing on the wall I fell off it and landed on the path below. Fortunately I was not hurt very much. The Rector, Reverend Rees Davis and his wife were childless and having two young girls living with them meant a great deal of extra work.

The Rector's wife was helped by a young lady who came in a few times each week. There were no washing machines in those days and I well remember the young lady helper showing me how to wring the sheets whilst washing them by twisting them up your arm so they didn't get dirty again.

In Cyffylliog everyone spoke Welsh. People didn't speak English to us therefore we had to learn Welsh so that we could understand what was going on! In the village people worshipped in either the Chapel or the Church and as I was with the Rector we went to Church at least twice on Sundays. The other Eileen and I took it in turns to pump the organ by hand whilst the Rector's wife played for the service. Morning service was in Welsh and evening service was in English one week and alternated the next week. I used to sing hymns and other songs in Welsh. Priming the Church organ became a game to Eileen and me - at the side of it were two marks indicating the maximum and minimum pressures. We enjoyed letting the indicator get as closes as we dared to the minimum mark - in the nick of time pumping furiously to avoid disaster. Similarly we let the indicator approach the maximum mark to within a fraction of going over the top!

School was very different to the one at home. It was a smaller building with big rooms divided by wooden and glass doors. The rooms were heated by huge coal fires. We were quite often bullied by the boys (like boys anywhere). Hugh Thomas, the Postmaster's son, used to give me Chinese burns on the back of my hands! Paul, the Headmaster's son was one of the nice boys and he came to have tea with us in the Rectory garden.

I remember visiting the nearby farms, helping in the fields at harvest time - stocking sheaves of corn. The combine-harvester moved from one farm to another. I learned to milk a cow (after squiring it all over at first) and it was lovely to ride a horse for the first time. At harvest festival we used to go up the mountain to collect lots of lovely coloured bracken to decorate the church. I loved it up there although I was a little frightened in case I met a snake!

My younger brother had come to live with a Mr and Mrs Jones who lived in a house by the stream. I remember going there to pick and eat plums from the tree in the garden. My mother came to visit us once in a while but it was a long journey from Liverpool. We were given cod liver oil capsules to keep away colds and I thought it a good idea to chew one once - I never did it again! We looked forward to getting a parcel from home with goodies in it now and again and we used to buy penny Oxo cubes and nibble them to make them last. We thought that was a real treat.

Towards the end of my stay in Wales I was entered for a music festival and travelled half up the mountain to a house to be taught a Welsh song. Unfortunately I did not sing in the Festival as I went home to Liverpool before it was held (I still remember some of it). There was still a feeling of war in the village - a searchlight battery was stationed nearby and if we walked up the field we could see the fires burning over Merseyside.

The war was still on when I returned home and we still had to go the air-raid shelter during raids although it was not as dangerous as it was during the Blitz.

I will never forget my time in Cyffylliog and only wish I could recall more details.

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