ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½

I was evacuated from Uckfield, Sussex, to Port Talbot SouthWales in 1944 — I suspect this was the second wave of evacuees.

Duly labelled and clutching my gas mask, I was shepherded, with what seemed like hundreds of others to a chapel in Port Talbot, where we waited to be ‘chosen’. I’ll never forget the feeling of fear that nobody would want me. I was already vaguely aware that my background did not consist of a normal family scenario. However, I was eventually chosen by a doctor and his wife, who was a teacher. Their house backed on to sand dunes and I remember whole days of rolling about in the sand and having to put my feet in a bucket by the back door before being allowed into the house! I went to school and vividly remember having to recite a 'times' table before breakfast - a valuable exercise which I have never forgotten. I spent a very happy six months before being sent back.

The end result was that the doctor and his wife had no children of their own and had missed me so much that, knowing that they could give me a better life, decided to adopt me! In 1945 they came to collect me. I was with foster parents at the time and had no inkling of their decision. However, I had no qualms at all about being taken off by them. I guess they represented some form of security that I had not hitherto enjoyed. I spent a very happy time and will always be grateful to them for giving me such a good and happy home.

They have both of course long since passed away, but I now consider myself totally Welsh, even speak the language reasonably well. No guesses as to who I shout for when Wales play England at rugby!

I am now retired and living in Cilgerran, near Cardigan. We used to visit Cilgerran on school holidays and there are still members and friends of my family here. I am thoroughly content in retirement and am hopefully able to put something back into village life.

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