| Notes |
- GRANDMA'S WARTIME MEMORIES
My Grandma’s name was Pamela, but everyone called her Pam. She was only three when war broke out and her first memories were of a happy childhood in Devon. She had moved there at the age of three with her Mum, Emily, her Great Nan Turvy and her seven brothers and sisters to escape the bombing in London. They had lived in Acton in West London and had to be evacuated by train to the countryside to escape the dangers of the blitz. Her Dad was in the army and only her Grandad, Pop Lovejoy, stayed behind at the house in Goldsmith Road, Acton.
Her Mum, Emily, had insisted on keeping the family together and they were all evacuated to a small cottage in Newton Poppleford in Devon, quite near to Exeter where she had been born.
The cottage was one of three in a bank and they had a next door neighbour called Monica who helped out the large family. Grandma’s Mum converted the whole back garden into a vegetable patch which supplemented their rations and kept the family quite well fed. They got their milk and eggs from a lady called Lottie Cotty who owned the farm. Sometimes they would help milk the goats and ride the farm horses as they ploughed the fields. They drew their water from hand pump conveniently located in front of their cottage on the bank. The village had no railings or gates. They had all been taken to use the metal for weapons and ammunition.
My Grandma can remember sitting on the bank in front of the cottage and the American soldiers passing through the village in their jeeps and lorries and throwing oranges, canned jam and sweets to them.
Every Sunday they would invite an airman from the local RAF base to Sunday lunch. In the evening they would boil water pulled from the hand pump on the bank, fill and old tin tub, put it in front of the range and Grandma and her brothers and sisters would take it in turns to have a bath. Oldest first, youngest last!
Bedtime arrangements were cramped. With two adults and eight children and only two bedrooms there was a lot of sharing! Grandma’s Mum and Gloria shared a bed in one room, with Dorothy in a cot and the three boys, Eddie, Ronnie and Brian, head to toe on a mattress in the corner. Grandma shared a bed with her Great Nan Turvy in the other bedroom. The large landing was curtained off and Joan and Mary, her older sisters, shared a bed there.
The lavatory was outside and was no more than a bucket with a wooden seat in an outhouse. Back in London they had been used to an inside loo with a flush!
All the children, except for Joan the eldest, went to the village school with the local children. They family were welcomed by the people of Newton Poppleford and really became part of village life. The girls went to Brownies, they had parts in the school plays and the older children sang in the church choir.
Grandma remembers the war years as happy times, plying in the stream and woodlands, picking primroses, violets and bluebells in the hedgerows, gathering wild strawberries and collecting mushrooms from the cow pats in the fields… yuk! There was the occasional frightening experiences like the time one of her brothers pushed her off the stepping stones into the stream when she couldn’t swim! Luckily, another of her brothers pulled her to safety!
She also remembered snowy winters and 'sledging’ down the hill. Most children used tea trays, but Grandma’s Mum used a piece of corrugated iron bent at the corners. It was the best sledge on the hill – even Grandma’s Mum had a go!
In spite of having so little, Christmas turned out to be a magical time. They all made toffee apples which were a real treat. Grandma remembered going to bed on Christmas Eve. Everything was the same as usual. When they got up on Christmas morning, Grandma’s Mum had stayed up all night and decorated the whole house – it was like wonderland. There was a tree that touched the ceiling and everything look beautiful. They each had a stocking containing a tangerine, a silver thru’penny bit and some other handmade bits. This Christmas remained one of her best ever.
Another time, Grandma remembered hearing a plan returning to the RAF base. It was very noisy and coming in unusually low; so low, in fact, it took off the chimney from one of the houses!
A photo was taken of Grandma seated with her brothers and sisters. It was taken as a memento to send to her dad in the army. He was a motorbike messenger. When he returned from the war he visited his family in Devon. This was the only time he had seen them during the war years. Grandma remembered getting up and coming downstairs one morning and there he was! Sadly, it had been so long since she’d last seen him she didn’t know who he was. Her dad had been very lucky. He had survived the Battle of Dunkirk, but had seen many of his friends and comrades killed on the beaches.
Grandma could remember VE Day. Her Mum, who was seamstress, made her and her sisters dresses out of white parachute silk with red, white and blue ribbon trim. They sat on coal carts and went through the country lanes waving their union jack flags as part of the countrywide celebrations.
Grandma was nine when she returned 'home' to London after the war. Before leaving Devon they all had to have vaccinations. When they reached London they had to go to the municipal baths with lots of other returning evacuees and washed with carbolic soap to ensure no scabies or infections were brought back that would start an epidemic.
They moved back in to their house in Goldsmith Road and Grandma went to Derwent Water School in Acton. She wasn’t happy there at all and longed to return to Devon. They city was a very strange place after the peace of the countryside.
Pop Lovejoy had stayed at the house during the war years and had been bombed out. Fortunately, the damage was repaired before their return. Many of the buildings were damaged, especially in the City and it was a sad, grey place. Grandma couldn’t remember it from when she was younger and felt she didn’t belong there. She found it very hard to settle back to this life.
Her only memory of life in this house before the war was during an air raid when the family had gone down to the cellar. This probably stuck in her mind because it was a frightening experience. The cellar was dark and dirty. It had bunk beds in case they had to stay down there for some time and some dust from the bunk above had fallen in her eye. Nan Tuvy wouldn’t come down to the cellar until she had put her earrings on and they had all panicked in case she didn’t make it down in time. She had done the same thing in Devon when the chimney caught fire… wouldn’t leave without her earrings!
For Grandma the war years were a happy time. The struggles and stressed her Mum must have undergone were never apparent to her and her brothers and sisters. They were lucky enough to be together as a family and that was all that mattered.
As retold by my Grandma, Pamela George.
|
Dutton, Berrett & Hungerford Twigs
1936 - 2015 (78 years)
[2, 3, 6] 
