大象传媒

This contribution to WW2 People's War website was received by the Action Desk at 大象传媒 Radio Norfolk, with the permission and on behalf of Janice Patricia Baker, and submitted to the website by the Wymondham Learning Centre.

One of my earliest memories is of being at home in Streatham Vale and seeing a barrage balloon go up over Crystal Palace. I was four years old. Being under school age I couldn鈥檛 be evacuated with a school and my mother took me privately to Pevensey in Eastbourne. It proved to be an unsafe place. Two ships were bombed in the bay. I have a photograph, probably taken by my father, of crowds scavenging on the beach, where typewriters, oranges, cheeses and skivers (pieces of dressed leather) had washed ashore. We evacuees had to be moved elsewhere. Woodmansterne Road School, Streatham Vale, had just been evacuated to Pevensey and I was given into the charge of the headmistress, Miss C M Jollife, who had been at school with my mother. So off I went 鈥� knapsack on my back, label, gas-mask and Teddy. My mother returned to London, where my father was working for the Ministry of Health. When my own daughters were four I often wondered whether I could have handed them over just like that 鈥� on a train to anywhere!

We eventually arrived in a small village, Llanwrda in South Wales, and from the village square the evacuees were allocated their homes. I was extremely lucky and was immediately claimed by Mr Griffiths, the billeting officer. He was also the local J.P., Postmaster and shopkeeper. He had a finger in everything. My mother felt most relieved that I was with a 鈥渘ice鈥� family when she received a letter asking for a hat and gloves for me to wear to Church on Sundays. She sent a 鈥減oke鈥� bonnet. We went three times on a Sunday. Services were in both English and Welsh, so I spoke Welsh quite quickly, but didn鈥檛 always know what it meant. The itinerant handyman Davy 鈥� who darned his socks (in any coloured wools available) to 鈥渟ave鈥� them - taught me to swear beautifully in Welsh! Fortunately my mother couldn鈥檛 understand me. Davy also taught me to sing in Welsh.

By now Mr and Mrs Griffiths had become 鈥淎unty鈥� and 鈥淯ncle.鈥� Theirs was a second marriage, and they felt they were too old to start a family of their own, so they wrote to my parents asking to adopt me. My parents said, 鈥淐ertainly not 鈥� have a little girl of your own!鈥� So they did. They named her Diane, and my mother came down to Wales and looked after both of us. We all lived together in the Post Office, and they were very happy years. We now regard ourselves as sisters and see each other most years and are always on the telephone. Our children know each other and we all met up at Diane鈥檚 daughter鈥檚 wedding.

The English evacuee children had a room in the local Welsh school. It had a lovely pot-bellied stove, on which we were allowed to thaw out the school milk if it arrived frozen.

The local dentist visited us in his black-and-white car. He set up his chair and a silver pot to hold the teeth he extracted. I was a dreadful patient and still have a fear of black and white cars. (Thankfully there are not many around today!) Despite this I eventually married a dental surgeon.

Our teacher, Miss Joliffe, was marvellous, and made endless teaching aids. I had a lisp, and she made me repeat, 鈥渟ix swans a-swimming鈥� over and over again. We had a visit from a music specialist, and because I could sing in tune 鈥� thanks to Davy 鈥� I won a scholarship for free music lessons from the local LRAM and after the war music lessons at the Royal Academy.

A canteen was set up in a corrugated tin shed at the back of the garage next to Uncle鈥檚 Post Office and the evacuees were provided with a cooked lunch. Several mothers were now down in Llanwrda with youngest children and they all helped. Several batches of new evacuees, mainly Cockneys, arrived and were all 鈥渃hecked over鈥� (de-nitted etc!) in the canteen. My mother was taking a small child to its billet and she was telling her all about the countryside and all the animals she was going to see. There was a pause, and then the little girl said 鈥淎int there any elephumps 鈥榚re?鈥�

We were all (even the boys) taught to knit and sew. They didn鈥檛 have much success when they tried to get me, aged about seven, to knit an elephant, especially as my teacher was left handed! In spite of this I enjoy knitting now. When the war ended each of the twenty-four children in the class embroidered his or her name in coloured thread onto a white handkerchief with 鈥淰ictory鈥� embroidered in large blue letters in the centre, with all the names running around the edge. I still have mine.

The school celebrated May Day with a May Queen (at least once this was me), maypole dancing, country dancing and patriotic songs. The other 鈥淓nglish鈥� school, in Llansadwrn about two miles away up the mountain, did the same and then we joined forces. The teacher there was Miss Grace Jennings, a wonderful lady, now dead, who had a fund of wartime stories. We often went to have supper in Llansadwrn with a Mrs Dineen and her son Brian. She ran the Scout group and Miss Jennings the Brownies. I understand Mrs Dineen has donated the diaries she kept throughout the war, to the Imperial War Museum. I hope to go there one day and see them.

Nearby there was a camp for service people. POWs, Poles, and Americans under canvas in a lot of mud. We befriended an American lad called Pete who I believe must have been quite homesick. He used to come and have meals with us at the Post Office and spend time with us. The Americans were very kind to us children and gave us Christmas parties and gifts. I remember visiting one of their tents where they had a wooden box of boiled sweets, which they had to break up with a hammer. Food was given to us on divided trays 鈥� peaches and ham 鈥� quite foreign to us.

We ate 鈥渂anana鈥� sandwiches made from mashed parsnip and banana essence. Very occasionally 1 Lb of black market butter would appear mysteriously under the counter in exchange for a pound in money, and sometimes an H.P. bottle of cream or a rabbit.

Leather sandals had cardboard put inside to cover holes in the soles and the ends cut off to allow toes to pop through when one鈥檚 feet got to big for them. Dungarees were made from surplus Post Office uniforms. We wore woolen vests 鈥� ugh! - knitted from the very harsh Welsh wool made at the local factory. (They also made beautiful blankets, some of which I still have). We had home-made wooden toys.

As part of her War Effort mother helped with the American laundry. She helped in the Post Office and many evenings had to cycle and deliver telegrams to isolated farms in the mountains. She also scrubbed the War Memorial Soldier!

They were very difficult days but great times were had thanks to the generosity of the Welsh people. I came home with sufficient money to buy my piano. We went swimming in the River Tywi, climbed trees, made 鈥渄ens,鈥� had picnics and long walks in the countryside and in the mountains and woods. There were Christmas concerts in which we all were encouraged to take part. One very hard winter we went sledging and snowballing. Living in the Post Office and shop where all the magazines and papers were sold was great, because I had 鈥渇irst look.鈥� My perusal of the 鈥渞ude鈥� pictures in the Nursing Mirror before District Nurse collected it improved my reading no end! She lived next door to us so I had to be quick.

The word 鈥淏ored鈥� hadn鈥檛 been invented then and we didn鈥檛 turn into vandals 鈥� the local Bobby would soon have sorted us out. We were too busy anyway. By the end of the war I was helping in the shop. Mrs Griffiths took in orphan girls to work in the house and shops. She fed, clothed, and housed them and trained them to be very useful people and when they left there was always some money in their pockets.

I came back from Wales with a great love of the countryside. We used to pick snowdrops and primroses, pack them in shoe boxes filled with moss and send them to my father, who was still in London working in Whitehall. He was on fire-fighting duty in Whitehall when the docks were bombed and St. Paul鈥檚 was surrounded in smoke and flames. His visits to us in Wales were very special and he became a great friend of the family.

When we got back to London I spent the first night at home but my bedroom had no ceiling and there was a hole in the roof from bomb damage. I went to live with my grandmother in Balham while repairs were made. I had to share her brass-head-boarded bed with her. I really hated going back to London when the war ended and whenever possible I was sent 鈥渉ome to Wales鈥� in charge of the guard on the train.

After the war I went to Streatham County Grammar School, which did exchanges with German Students and their Professors, who came to stay in our homes. I took them to see places of interest such as the Houses of Parliament and St. Paul鈥檚 (though some girls were more interested in Soho). One lovely Professor, Miss Schroeder, sent us several food parcels, including German sausage and special ginger biscuits, all beautifully wrapped and decorated with a piece of fir tree at Christmas. One of her students, Christina, had beautiful long hair in which her mother had hidden their 鈥渧aluables鈥� at the end of the war to hide them from the Russians. Miss Schroeder was so generous, despite the fact that by the end of the war she was living, as she put it, 鈥渋n a hole in the road.鈥� When she went back she used to take a supply of coffee beans wound round with knitting wool to disguise it from Customs and Excise, as it was illegal to take it back to Germany.

Part of my heart is still in Wales. I miss the hills, mountains, streams, and kindness of the people and visit as often as possible. I often thought that if I were capable of writing my story I would call it 鈥淚 lift my eyes up unto the hills . . .鈥�

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