Recollections of a London Evacuee – 1939-1945

I was born in London and when war broke out in September 1939, I was nine years old, living in Stoke Newington, North London. My parents decided I should be evacuated to a safe place as everyone expected that London would be the first place to be bombarded. At my school, we were assembled and with identification labels round our necks, we were sent by train to Cornwall. In a school hall in Carharrack, (a small village near Redruth), we were unloaded and placed in a school hall like a flock of lost sheep. There, we waited until local residents came, looked us over, picked who they wanted and then we went home with them.

I was with a friend of mine, Daphne, who lived near to me in London, and our mothers were happy that we should be together. It was a big adventure to be separated from our parents for the first time, but I don't think we realized the seriousness of what was going on – just the fact that we travelled to a strange place in the country and we were going to be taken care of by strangers.

My friend, Daphne, was a pretty girl with long blonde curls and immediately was picked out by an elderly Cornish couple. But as Daphne insisted that we were "together" and not be separated, our hosts finally decided to take us both. I remember well the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Jory: one of the first things Mrs. Jory said was: "Well, we've had five sons and now we have two little girls!" Mr. Jory was a retired headmaster of the local school and all their five sons were grown up, married and lived in different parts of Cornwall. One of them, I seem to remember, was a local farmer.

The Jory home was a very welcoming place – with a front garden, and inside a coal stove greeted us. Mrs. Jory cooked on the coal stove and I remember the many delectable dishes that she made. I believe no one had gas stoves in that area. We stayed four weeks in Carharrack, during which time we sampled Cornish pasties and saffron cakes, which were strange to us London evacuees, but delicious. We experienced a country harvest, where many families including the Jories went out to the nearby fields, bringing hampers of food for the farmers who were working hard bringing in their crops – the atmosphere was so friendly and it seems to me that everyone liked and helped each other.

For the first time in my life, I saw beautiful countryside and met wonderful country folk. Many were very poor but all were hard-working. One girl of about 14 came to the door one day selling new-laid eggs, and Mrs. Jory bought some from her. She told us that there were 19 children in that family and all helped in their parents' farm, working long hours. As I came from a family of three which I thought was a large number, this type of family was a revelation to me!

The country school we attended was about 3 miles or so from our house, and very different from my London school, but I loved the difference and the daily walk to and from the school. I enjoyed being in Carharrack and loved my hosts – especially Mrs. Jory, who was one of the kindest persons I had ever met. However, after four weeks, there were bombs dropped on Falmouth, and as London, in those early days, was quiet and undisturbed, many of our parents decided it would be safer to return to London. So my mother travelled all the way out to Cornwall to bring us back to London. She was welcomed by Mrs. Jory and given a cream cake to take back with her.

The hospitality extended by my first billet-lady was never forgotten by me, and for years I wrote to Mrs. Jory giving her all my news, and she always responded with interesting letters of her own life and family events. (Many years later when I was about 23, I revisited the Jory Carharrack home but unfortunately, after the death of her husband, Mrs. Jory had moved to Truro, and none of the neighbors had her new address).

After returning to London, I went back to school. Later on there were further schemes to evacuate children and also mothers with children under four years of age, to safer country places. This time I went with my mother and my younger brother, who was three and a half, to Biggleswade, Bedfordshire.

There I was separated from my mother and placed with a young couple with no children of their own. I was very unhappy there and one day left the house and never returned there. I arrived tearfully at the place where my mother was staying and she managed to put me up in her billet place.

We left Biggleswade and travelled to Bedford, where my older brother, Don, was evacuated. I continued to stay with my mother and younger brother, and at age 10, I attended a scholarship class there. We had a very mixed bunch of children in the class – some of whom were young refugees. I remember one, by the name of Tomashoff from Czechoslovakia, who was a very bright serious boy. His hobby was drawing maps, and he would spend hours expertly detailing the maps we had to submit for geography homework. I often wonder if cartography became a career for him in later years, as his excellent and accurate designs as an eleven-year-old amazed our teacher.

When I was 11, I passed my Scholarship and was eligible to enter a Grammar School. As there was a London School already evacuated to Bedford, it was natural that I would be enrolled at the Plumstead Warren School.

We had excellent teachers there, and I enjoyed my three years at that school. Discipline was strict, school uniform an essential, and the standard of teaching very high.

One of my favorite subjects was French and I think I endeared myself to the French teacher, Miss Hinton, not only by my efforts to do well at the language, but also because I went to my first classical concert in Bedford, and Miss Hinton, a classical music enthusiast, was pleased to see me there too.

Around 1941, concerts were given at the local Corn Exchange, and I believe that my first visit to this concert kindled my love for classical music. The concerts were basically given for youth audiences, and I remember Malcolm Sargent appearing in front of the audience and explaining the individual pieces about to be played – giving a lively description of the storm in Mendelsohn's Hebrides Overture, which is still vivid in my mind, years later.

Bedford Park was a delight for us – nearly all of us had simple bicycles and we loved to ride them in the park. The fields and countryside nearby were also greatly appreciated, and we enjoyed the River Ouse and the boat races.

Around 1944, my parents decided it was safe to return to London and I continued school in my local area Clapton, at Laura Place Secondary School for girls. I was shocked at the lack of discipline at this London School. Because it was still wartime, wearing uniforms was no longer essential and the general behavior of the girls was unruly.

Once more, there were danger signs of German bombing on London and I was evacuated with the Laura Place School to Bishops Stortford. I was billeted with an elderly couple who lived in a country cottage in Bury Green about ten miles or so from Stortford. They were rather conservative people but kind to me. However, having said that I could invite my parents, who still lived in our London home, to visit me one Sunday, they decided at the last minute that they didn't want them to come to their home. They told me I could take them into Stortford and have a cup of tea there. So, on a nasty rainy day, I met my parents sheltering under a tree in the village and we managed to get a bus into "town".

On Sunday in Bishop Stortford most places were closed, but we found one dreary, miserable café and had a cup of tea, looking at the rain pelting down and chatting for an hour or so, until they returned by train to London once more.

When they returned to our London home in Maury Road, they found that the house opposite ours had taken a direct hit. The windows of our house were gutted and if my parents had not been visiting me that day, they might have been killed or seriously wounded. It was a small miracle and good luck for our family that day.

Later, I returned to London, went through the V1 and V2 air raids, successfully passed my General School Certificate, and in 1945 World War II was over and we could live normal lives once more.