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In 1944 when I was 7, my brother 5 and my sister 3 years old, my brother and I were evacuated. We had luggage labels on, and I took a teddy with safety pins stuck in him - I was allowed to buy anything I liked from our local draper's shop, and that's what I chose; a packet of safety pins.

We were given strict instructions that we were not to be separated, and I had to look after my brother as I was the oldest. My sister stayed at home, as she was so young.

When we reached London, there was some kind of alert, as I remember lying on the station platform with all the other children.

When we got to our destination (I think Llandaff), we had to wait in a hall while people came in to "choose" who they would take home (at least, that's what it seemed like at the time!) My brother and I were last, as there were 2 of us. It was very upsetting. The couple who took us did not want to keep us, so we only stayed a night or two. We then went to another private home where I am sure we misbehaved as I was very unhappy. We then were transferred to a children's home.

I hated it and ran away to come home, unsuccessfully, of course. We only stayed away for 11 months.

I still remember the resentment I felt at 11, when other children in my class were talking with pleasure about being evacuated. Geoffrey Blackmore - are you out there? I was so envious of your placement in Devon!

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