ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½

Some memories

My name is John Bourne and by September 1939 I was 8 years old. At that time I was living in Alpha Road, Edmonton, London, with my parents and two sisters.

I can remember gas mask practices and having to go to school early one day with a bag which contained my possessions and goodies for my journey; I was being evacuated, and I know my Parents came to see me off. The Rainham Road School pupils and teachers who had elected to be evacuated were to walk hand in hand to the railway station in Silver Street wearing the brown luggage labels showing our names. We did not know where we were going to or how long it would take but eventually we arrived at Braintree in Essex about 40 miles North of London. Upon reflection it now seems a little peculiar to evacuate children to an area where there were large companies such as Crittalls, Lake and Elliotts, Courtaulds all at that time engaged in war work. However we were taken to a hall and lined up to be inspected by people who were going to give us a new home. I was selected with another boy whom I did not know, and taken by car to a large house. Being taken by car was in itself a new experience, and having to share a room with a stranger in a strange house was to say the least a little disturbing. I know that I was homesick and did not like the situation I was in. Within a short time I was transferred to another house where I was to stay with a Mr and Mrs B. They did not have any children of their own and Mrs B was rather house-proud and they both liked a tipple and both smoked. I had to change my ways and only enter the house without shoes, behave, and be seen and not heard. I had jobs to do within the house and garden. I am sure my Mother came to see me; I now suppose to vet my foster parents. My Mother and Sisters were not evacuated at this stage but stayed at home with my Father.
Outside the front of the house was an area used by the local inhabitants as allotments, an area that became the centre of us kids world. Many a game of hide and seek, cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers as well as soldiers was fought there, usually between evacuees and locals. School was held at Chapel Hill school, (which is still there today). The evacuees and their teachers shared the building with the existing pupils and teachers but the only memories I have are of a large hall divided by glass partitions and being able to hear several lessons going on at once.
I think I must have been homesick as I persuaded my Parents to allow me to return home and back to Rainham Road School. I believe this was quite common at the time, due to what is now called the phoney war. Little was happening on the home front and people were beginning to accept the situation.
Back at my Alpha Road home the war eventually became more intense, air raids began to occur with regularity and the occasional bomb was dropped. I became rather annoyed at having to be woken up and go to our air raid shelter in the back garden. We had an Anderson shelter, which was sunk into the ground by about 4 foot and then the roof covered with earth, grass, sandbags anything to give protection. Inside the shelter we had a bunk bed across the back and I slept in the upper bunk. In front of the shelter my father had constructed some form of blast wall.
I was so fed up with having my sleep disturbed that my parents allowed me to go into the shelter when it was time for me to go to bed. This turned out to be a good move because one night a sneak raider decided to drop his bombs on our area. One fell behind our shelter into the next doors garden just as the siren was sounding, my family was trying to get into the shelter which they just managed in time, my father having an eiderdown torn from his grasp by the blast as he entered and me waking up bitterly complaining that someone was throwing earth about. The ends of the shelter had opened with the blast and showered me with dirt. Next door were not as lucky, they lost their lives. At the same time another bomb dropped on Maison Owides a hairdressing salon situated at the boundary between Edmonton and Tottenham.
Later during the early hours we were escorted out of the shelter and through our house to safety. The house was in a sorry state and I will always remember seeing the wallpaper hanging down in small strips looking as though all over someone had been peeling it off. I suppose the result of blast damage. The house was rebuilt after the war.
The rescue services took us to Pymmes Park reception centre. There we were with people who had been bombed out or had been evacuated from their homes whilst the bomb disposal people took care of unexploded items or their home made safe. Upon our arrival we saw our maternal Grandmother who had been evacuated from her home due to an unexploded item in her back garden.
The time at home during the phoney war was good for a young lad. There were street games to be played, Lifts to be had by jumping on to the backs of passing lorries when they slowed down, jumping off when the next corner or slow down approached, the Eldorado ice cream man with a trycycle still came round with his frozen ice lollies. Saturday mornings were time to visit the Alcazar cinema where for I think it was four pence we could watch Tarzan, Gene Autry and Roy Rogers (and were given an Orange). The screaming and shouting that went on in support, or otherwise, for the action on the screen was deafening. Foot stamping was an accepted practice to add to the noise, girls being as vociferous as boys. Sunday mornings were a must for attending Sunday school. One never played outside on a Sunday. Visits to relations were in order or time spent in making go-karts from wooden boxes and pram wheels. Imitation wooden guns were often the vogue and matchstick guns. These being made from wood, with two rubber rings from beer bottles and Mothers hairclips bent into the shape to accept a matchstick. Great fights indeed running battles were fought with matchstick guns and wooden guns. Another form of occupation was to collect from the gutters matchsticks to use with the guns and if you happen to come across an empty cigarette packet it may have contained a picture card to add to ones collection or to trade as swapsies; many, many people smoked in those days. Whips and tops were still in use, especially along the gutters. Evenings were a time when everything was in darkness, people carried torches to see their way and were then only used sparingly; batteries were in short supply. Kerbs on corners were painted white and vehicles had their lights behind slots. Most evenings were spent indoors with a book or the wireless. Air raid wardens enforced the blackout. Every window had to be prevented from showing light and if it did they came knocking on the door.
I suppose we must have spent a little time at Pymmes Park until my Father found temporary shelter for us with his employer at lower Edmonton near Bounces Road. Once again I had to attend a different school, this one I cannot remember the name but it was near The Green Lower Edmonton. I can remember a corner shop on the way home where gobstoppers were 1/4d each or five for a penny.
Once again for what reason I cannot tell I had to return to Braintree and stay with Mr and Mrs B. Whilst I had been away they too had been bombed out, a parachute mine had landed in their front garden. Their new home was at Chapel Hill opposite the school so back to the old school for me. This time there was not only house and garden chores but also chickens too care for, any excess eggs being put into isinglass to preserve them. Part of my duties was to visit the butchers at the road junction to see if they had any brawn, which being off ration became a regular part of my diet. Lazy summer days were spent playing and when us lads heard that a Fairy Battle bomber had made a forced landing near Coggeshall we all trooped off to see it, unfortunately we were not allowed very near. During this stay at Braintree my father cycled occasionally to see me (on reflection that was quite a journey). During his short day trip we bought sweets if I remember rightly Radian toffees, before he cycled back to London.

I learnt that my Mother and Sisters had been evacuated to Blofield Hall in Norfolk but did not stay for long. I think this and the fact that my father had to stay in London as he was engaged on war work, and having been bombed out once made my Mother decide that as a family we should all stay together under the new roof that my Father had found for us at Tottenham. We all moved into Sherringham Avenue, and my maternal Grandmother found accommodation next door; we were together as a family. For me yet another school at Coleraine park near to Whitehart Lane.
The war by now had really got going and I can remember all us kids sleeping together in one bed upstairs whilst Father was on fire watch and Mother together with Grandmother sat in chairs, knitted and chatted. Occasionally Father and I watched the bombs falling on the docks to the South causing big red glows in the sky and see aircraft caught in the searchlights twisting and turning. During the day one could see the dogfights going on overhead between the aircraft, leaving vapour or smoke trails in the sky, and at night the sound of guns firing and bombs dropping. We reckoned that we could tell which guns were firing by their distinctive sounds, one we called ting bong was I am sure based on the local railway line.
Each morning, if there had been an air raid the night before, meant an early start, up and about at first light looking for shrapnel. One wandered the streets looking for bits of metal from bombs or shells dropped to earth from the night before. These were highly prized collectables and were often kept in blue and silver National Dried Milk tins. The secret was to be up early and wander across the road from side to side keeping eyes well open. It could be that the grapevine reported such things as incendiary bombs being dropped and not going off in Downhills Park near to the Eagle Pencil factory, then all us local kids would visit in the hope of digging up a whole live (but small) bomb before they could be dealt with by the authorities. As a family I know we had an Anderson shelter in the garden but it had a tendency to be damp and cold, sometimes waterlogged. Mother decided that as a family if it happened then we would all go together. One day returning from the corner shop with shopping and mother we had to run for our lives as an aircraft flew low overhead machine guns blazing. Another time on my way to school at Coleraine park we pupils had to be careful where we walked, as a barrage balloon had become blown over by high winds and it’s wires wrapped around chimneys and across the street causing confusion. Chimneys being brought down and crashing to the ground around us. Memories of diphtheria injections in a mobile unit outside the school and Friday night spoonfuls of syrup of figs mingle with reminders of fathers preference for Epsom salts a guaranteed cure all. I know I had a short spell in the Middlesex Hospital after the removal of my appendix where the power of matron was supreme, cleanliness, clean sheets, sharply folded corners and all sitting upright in bed for doctors rounds. No one escaped her keen eye and not a speck of dirt escaped her attention.

To Be Continued

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.