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I grew up on a small holding of 8-9 acres at Rosevale, Constantine, where my parents Olive and Christopher Allen had moved to in September 1939. I was then aged 18 months and had been born at Hove, Sussex. (it was many years later that I discovered that my Allen forebears came from St Ives, Cornwall). The previous owners of Rosevale were still in residence when we arrived - they were Mr and Mrs Dunstan - and I do not know how long they stayed before moving on. My father had a radio to which he listened with headphones. He related relevant war news to Mother and Mr and Mrs Dunstan to which Mrs Dunstan would reply "Is that good news, Mr Allen?".

I cannot recollect specific dates during the War but the following are a variety of events and examples of our life in Constantine.

In the evenings blackout panels were put up at the windows. These had been made by Father by tacking roofing felt onto wooden frames. When my parents went to bed they took down these panels, presumably to let in some fresh air. If I woke in the night and needed something Father would shine a torch shaded by his hands so that the light could not be seen from outside. Father owned an Austin 12 car, registration number PN7666, which had a canvas, fold down roof. The car was kept in a building that had at one time been a dame school in the 19th century. He made masks for the large headlights out of sheet tin so that only a narrow beam of light shone when driving at night. Despite strict petrol rationing he used the car to go to Falmouth, Helston market and to the ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Guard. He was in the 7th Btn (Falmouth) ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Guard and there is a group picture including him in The Book of Constantine by G. Trethowan and L. Moore. When Father had been on a night shift with the ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Guard I was told to keep quiet during the day while he slept.

My parents kept a Guernsey house cow, several followers for sale, hens for eggs, a few ducks, about 4 Saanen goats for milk and followers for sale, plus two glasshouses in which tomatoes were grown. My father erected the glasshouses himself, one of which was made from "Dutch lights". I can remember Father going round the tomato plants and fertilising the flowers with a small paint brush. If our cow needed to go to the bull my father and another man would drive her (on foot) along the lanes to Higher Treglidwith Farm where there was a bull. I was never told what happened when the cow and the bull met! There had been pigs at Rosevale but I do not recollect them. However there were modern pig pens at the rear of the old farm buildings and I used to play in the passageway adjoining these pens. Some of the goats were housed in these pens at night. When the hay needed to be cut a Col. Hart came with his heavy horse and mule and hay mower to cut the grass. On one occasion we drove to Truro railway station to collect a billy goat which Mother had bought. As the train drew into the station we knew he was on board by the smell! Once collected from the guards van he was led down the platform to the waiting trailer. He was rather frisky and as we led him along the platform he urinated on an unsuspecting lady porter. Owning a billy goat was a hazardous as well as a smelly business! I well remember Mother staggering indoors a number of times after receiving a blow under the chin from the billy's hard head.

Either late summer 1942 or spring 1943 my mother's sister in law, Marjorie Snell, and her two sons, Julian born May 1940, and Richard born August 1942, came to stay. Their home was near Sevenoaks, Kent, and they must have felt that it would be safer in Cornwall than at home. Mother's sister Marguerite Illidge, came too as her home was near Caterham, Surrey. They came by train and Father fetched them from Penryn station. At the time we had a black Labrador dog named Pax. Marjorie liked to to take us children and Pax for long walks. On one of these walks we went to Scotts Quay on the Helford River. Much to Marjorie's consternation Pax swam right out into the river becoming a speck in the distance. Marjorie was frantic with worry but eventually Pax returned and all was well. Many years later I learned that Marjorie and her children returned to Kent earlier than had been planned. This was because "she preferred the bombs to sharing a house with my father whom she suspected of being a spy"! My father always listened to the radio/wireless with headphones and was forever fiddling with the dials.

There were many troops in the area and tanks on the roads around Constantine. En route to the main village from Rosevale and close to the Boys' School was a small cave at the side of the road. A tarpaulin was fixed across the entrance and some soldiers were billeted there. To my childish eyes it was quite novel to see a man stripped to the waist and shaving in the cave. My mother used to sell cream and eggs in the village. One day when she and I were taking produce to customers it must have been icy. Mother slipped and fell. Soldiers including some from the cave rushed to her aid. I felt quite ignored as no harm had come to me. Another time Father took me with him in the car to Falmouth and we stopped to give a lift to some soldiers. I was too shy to sit with these strangers so sat on Father's lap as he drove. P.O.Ws worked on some of the local farms and I had a wooden toy made by one of them. It was a group of hens pecking on a board and operated by strings going through the centre of the board.

I had no experience of bombing but well remember hearing the air raid sirens in Falmouth six miles away. Groceries were purchased in the shop run by Tommy Persence. I well remember watching Mr Persence marking off the points in the ration books (my ration book was blue and my parents had buff ones) and how he carefully weighed and wrapped the butter, cheese, sugar etc. We, as a family were registered as vegetarians so had an extra cheese allowance. All children had a special thick orange juice issued to them and were given one teaspoonful a day. I was also given some other kind of tonic which was produced by "Drs Pink and White"

In 1943 I reached the age of five and therefore schooling was an issue. My parents opted to educate me at home. I still have a few of the books they used to teach me. Learning to write was significant - endless pothooks and how to hold the pencil correctly ("the end of the pencil should point to your right ear"). One afternoon the school inspector called to check on my education. Mother's comment some time later was that she nearly threw her arms around his neck! (did this indicate marital tensions concerning my education?). Due to home tuitionI had few playmates, the principal ones were Lavinia Clapham from Budock Vean, and Theodora (Waspy) Muller from Ruan Minor, otherwise I played with the animals at Rosevale. A new experience for me was when Mother took me to visit Mrs Watson at Little Treglidgwith farm soon after Mrs Watson had given birth to a baby daughter, Susan. Susan was hardly visibly in her cradle as she was so tightly wrapped up, only her tiny nose and eyes could be seen. Mrs Watson was in bed with the cradle alongside. On other visits to Little Treglidgwith I would sit silently beside Mother in the kitchen observing everything that was going on including seeing the hot brick being taken from the range and put into the flat iron as Mrs Watson did the ironing on the kitchen table. Like many homes in the area neither we nor the Watsons had elecricity. Another home that Mother would take me to was that of Mrs and Miss Trethowan at High Cross. I was intrigued by the sticky fly papers hanging rom the kitchen ceiling and the very colourful pelargoniums growing in pots in the porch. To supplement the family income Mother took in a PG - paying guest. He was Mr Bryant who I knew as Crackers. Apparently he worked at the local egg packing station. Whilst having his evening meals he used to chat to me and would warn me of the dangers of drinking tea -"it would make my insides go all brown". We did not have any evacuees - Mother said it was because we did not have a proper sewage system.

Finally, one evening Father who had been listening to the radio announced that the War was over. Next day mother decided we should celebrate in some way. We did not mix with the local people very much so she made up a picnic and took me, my dolls, the goats and Pax to the nearby hills - the Croft - for the day. Father stayed at home, presumably working on the farm. For me, the War years were a happy time as I was shielded from the anxieties, shortages (we had clotted cream every day) and restictions, knowing nothing of the wider world. After the War my life changed considerably, going firstly to a school in Falmouth run by the Misses Rule, and then to one in Mawnan Smith run by Miss Eland, before we emigrated to New Zealand in 1949 but we only stayed for one year.

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