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Evacuation Memories

When the war began I was 4 years old. My Mother sent my brother and I away to be evacuated. I remember the train, and wearing my label, carrying my gas mask and I remember lots and lots of children. My brother was about 14. I can鈥檛 remember where we went to, but a man and lady came and took me by the hand and took me home with them. They were Mr. & Mrs. Parsons and I well remember their beautiful thatched cottage. There was a brook running right outside the front door and indeed it was called Brook Cottage. They had one married daughter called Phyllis, whose husband in the forces. I had my own room. Being such a little girl I recall being ill one year with measles and they brought me bread with golden syrup. Because I couldn鈥檛 face eating it, I hid it under the mattress, as I have been informed since!

I can鈥檛 recall the name of the school although I remember going. Though the place I went to was a lovely place and the people were kind, it seems that I was so upset and disorientated by having to leave my Mother, that my memories about it are vague. I wish now that they were clearer. My brother didn鈥檛 fare so well : he was only around the corner staying with a blacksmith who was not nice to him at all, and so being older, he ran away.

I was away for about three years and was about seven when I returned to Fulham. My home had fortunately not been bombed and I returned to a local school. I was very relieved to be back home with my Mum. Strangely enough, although I often wondered how Mr. & Mrs. Parsons were, they never contacted us and my Mother never thought of contacting them, so I didn鈥檛 hear from them after I returned.

Later the house was bombed, but luckily we were not in it and no one was hurt. We moved a few times after that and I recall sometimes being with my Grandparents and being in their shelter. We were used to the bombing and used to watch the Doodlebugs fly by, but being innocent as children were then, we didn鈥檛 really understand the implications of the danger and therefore didn鈥檛 really feel afraid. I think you remember the nice things much more easily. After we were bombed out once, my mother was given vouchers and we had new clothes. I well remember this beautiful dress which was bought with the vouchers. I had it for years and loved it, with its full skirt.

There is a lovely ending to this evacuation memory, though it was a long time coming. About five years ago, my husband and I were on holiday in Devon. We were driving back home and I saw this road sign saying 鈥楰enn鈥� and remembered that was where I was evacuated. We turned off to find it and as we reached the end of this road, I saw the cottage and was so excited to see it : 鈥淭hat鈥檚 it!鈥� I cried. We sat outside for a while looking at it. There were a few changes : the bridge had been changed for a concrete one, there was ivy growing up the wall, but it was very much as I remembered. With some trepidation, I knocked on the door and explained to the lady who I was and why I had called and to my great pleasure, she invited me in. Her little daughter took me up to her bedroom, which had been my bedroom and as I looked out the window, there was the meadow where the cows had been - only now they had been changed for sheep! I came away so sad and yet happy to have found the place again.

When I got home, I put pen to paper and wrote to the owners of the cottage telling the name of the people who were there at the time of my evacuation and as much as I could remember about the house and surroundings at that time. In turn, I had a letter from the grandson of the Parsons. He lived around the corner from Brook Cottage and I have since been able to visit them as well. They also arranged a meeting with the Parsons鈥� daughter Phyllis who now lived in Dawlish with her own daughter Cynthia, now a grown up. When we went to visit, all the family was there and made us so very welcome. Phyllis and I were in tears at the reunion. She even found a little photo of me when I was there all those years ago.

This wasn鈥檛 my only evacuation experience. When I was a little older, towards the later part of the war, there was another suggestion for us to be evacuated. On this occasion, my cousin Pamela and I were all for it and imagined ourselves having a good time. I recall early evidence of business acumen on my part, selling my Ovaltine sweets to the other kids on the train, four for a penny (I hated them anyway!).

When we arrived, my cousin and I insisted on staying together and ended up at 111 Minnor Road, Lancashire. The people had a boy called Jimmy who was a little older than we were although I can鈥檛 recall their surname. I remember us being all right there, but I don鈥檛 think they looked after us as well as I had been looked after before, because my Uncle reported that we weren鈥檛 kept very clean and the next thing we knew, he was sent to bring us home. Because sweets were on ration, they used to sell a huge slice of raw swede for a halfpenny and it gave me a taste for it that I have retained to this day!
One thing they did do for us was that the man we stayed with was a shoemaker and made both Pamela and I a lovely pair of leather sandals each. People used to ask where we got them when we came home.

Soon after this the war ended and with it my evacuation travels.

Marina

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