ĂŰŃż´ŤĂ˝

SYNOPSIS OF ‘BEVIN’S BABES’
The day that I had waited for so long finally arrived — the day when I first started school.
It was a strange world then, a world just recovering from the aftermath of war, when my Mother took me to be enrolled at ‘Upper Tooting High’ in South London.

There were several of us girls, just five years old, waiting in the hallway of a shabby, Victorian house, in a leafy road on Wandsworth Common. And although we did not know it at the time, the friendships we formed there - have lasted until this day.

We were the ‘War Babies’, born during Ernest Bevin’s time of office as Minister of Labour. Thus it was that our generation started off our lives affectionately known as — ‘The Bevin’s Babes’!

As the years have unfolded, our paths inevitably diverged, but the thread of common experience that we shared, has bound us closer together.
As we have looked back over our lifetime, some of our memories seemed to have increased in clarity with age. So we have combined these memories to produce this book — a book that celebrates both our enduring friendship and we hope, captures the story of ‘our times’.
We have recounted our origins, wartime births, early years and then later, when we were growing up in post-war London. The scarcity of food, of clothing, of housing and the general austerity of those days left a lasting impression upon us. And yet they were among our happiest.
As well, we have recounted memories of our Mothers and teachers, both, of whom did so much to shape our lives. We remember the efforts they made to ensure we were fed, clothed, educated and entertained.
In the summer of 1949, the first wave of Commonwealth immigration began, when the ‘Empire Windrush’ docked in Tilbury, bringing with her, the early settlers from Jamaica. LIZ - whose own family arrived in 1939 as refugees from Austria - recalls her impressions of those new arrivals and of our only black classmate, YVONNE. Meanwhile, MARCIA reflects on the reality of those days, when her family moved to Birmingham.

There were two terrible clouds that cast their shadows over our generation. One, was the fear of the crippling polio epidemics and the other, was the dreaded Selection Test, then known as the ‘Eleven-Plus’. We have remembered how we all strove for the scholastic success, which would determine our futures. In the event, a few of us were awarded places at the prestigious ‘G.P.D.S.T.’- ‘Girls Public Day School Trust,’ High Schools or at the “Grammars”. Whilst others were allocated places at the “Counties” or at one of the early “Co-Ed Comprehensives”, which were then being introduced, many of us remained at “Upper Tooting High” for the duration of our schooldays.
But outside of the shadows, there were also happier highlights of our childhood - The Festival of Britain and the early days of television, including the broadcast of The Coronation. And then, there were our picnics, our parties and our excursions, which we have all remembered with affection.

Equally cherished, are the memories of our varied holidays, journeying to our destinations by road and rail for the annual ‘family fortnight’ — whether staying with relatives, or in ‘B and Bs’, cottages, caravans and the then hugely popular Holiday Camps.
But for those of us who played so happily on the Devon sands on that fateful August of 1952, was perhaps the most memorable adventure of all. For, it was then, that the twin- villages of Lynton and Lynmouth were tragically inundated by the freak-floods that roared through the winding gorge. And in the darkness of a single night, a part of Lynmouth vanished forever.

Later, with our childhoods behind us, and our futures ahead, we have harked back to that lost time of innocence and anticipation — charting our rites of passage, chronicling our sexual naivety and detailing the foibles of teenage fashion.
Later still, in the changing world of the early “Swinging Sixties”, we’ve drawn on the memories of that time, when we were spreading our wings and leaving home.
Almost all of us were stage-struck schoolgirls! Some dreamt of a life in the performing arts, and for a few their lives echoed their dreams.
MARLENE became a “TILLER GIRL” - OLLIE trained at the ‘ROYAL BALLET SCHOOL’ and subsequently danced around Europe - ELAINE enrolled at the “ITALIA CONTI STAGE SCHOOL”, appeared in “THE LONDON FESTIVAL BALLET” - and later went on to become the wife of the actor CHRISTOPHER PLUMMER.
Whilst the aspirations of others took them further afield -GILLIE to CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA and CHRISTINE to MANHATTEN, U.S.A. — most of us realised our ambitions nearer to home.

Much has happened to women in our lifetime, which now spans over half a century. And so before putting the past behind us, we have reflected upon that revolution which has changed almost every aspect of our lives.
We like to think that our generation paved the way, raising the expectations for all those women who came, and will come after us. We hope that they will live in a world of equal opportunities and goodwill. The kind of world that our parents and grandparents thought was worth fighting for.
Because, the future is theirs!
END OF SYNOPSIS.

INTRODUCTION
‘W°ż˛Ń´ĄąˇąĘ°ż°ÂˇĄ¸é’!
Womanpower for the war effort —
‘Out of the kitchen and into the factories’ — that was the call from the Minister of Labour, Ernest Bevin, as he announced the first stage in a massive mobilisation plan to recruit women into the workplace.
On March 17th, 1941, 100,000 women were urged to step forward to volunteer for jobs in industry and the auxiliary services. They were to be paid a weekly wage of ÂŁ1.18s.0d, with no compensation for injuries. The men by contrast, would earn ÂŁ3.0s.6d!
Further calls were to be issued as the war continued, but then on May 3rd, 1943, a new government order was made for compulsory part-time work for all women from the ages of eighteen — forty-five.
This latest call-up move by the Labour Minister was aimed at those who had no domestic responsibility — and that included children.
Women who had been slow to ‘do their bit’ were now to be enforced into employment and absenteeism would be regarded as an offence. We cannot say with any certainty if the threat of this impending legislation, led to the surge of unexpected pregnancies or had anything to do with our timely arrival. But before the war had ended, the birth rate had dramatically increased!
Some of us were, no doubt, ‘little after-thoughts,’ and a few of us remained only children, born to parents in their middle- age. Nevertheless we were all much-loved daughters.
But as we grew up together, we all felt a pang of regret, that there was one thing missing from our lives — the company of a sister.
Perhaps this accounted, in part, for our enduring friendship, from which we have all benefited. And we like to think that over the years, we have been to each other, those sisters that we longed for but never had.

It was a scene of utter devastation, wailing sirens, mass bombing, nightly blackouts and a flourishing black-market, when we came into the world.
Many of our Mothers had faced the long months of weary waiting, alone in war-torn London until our Fathers returned. And they never forgot their gruelling journeys to hospital, in ambulances lurching along the bomb-blitzed streets, with the enemy aircraft, droning overhead.
When the raids began in earnest, some new Mothers did not have a home to return to, so with their babies securely fastened to them, they were stretchered away from London and driven into the peace of the countryside, where many remained for the rest of their lives.
Others returned to the city to ‘take their chances’ until
‘D-day’ brought about the cessation of bombs and blackouts and peace finally returned.

**

IT IS AT THIS POINT WE HAVE EACH RECOUNTED OUR PERSONAL STORIES, DETAILING OUR ORIGINS, OUR ‘5 GUINEAS’ PRE-N.H.S BIRTHS AND OUR EARLY WAR MEMORIES.

SELECTED SUMMARIES -

1) LIZ’S STORY — In 1939, faced with the imminent threat of the Nazi occupation of Austria, she recounts her family’s escape from Vienna, arriving in London on August 16th as destitute, Jewish refugees. Followed by her Father’s six months interment on the Isle of Man as an enemy alien; her Mother’s work in an ammunition factory and her subsequent birth in Paddington Hospital.

2) MARCIA’S STORY - On September 3rd, 1939 at 11a.m, the Nation listened, on the wireless, to Neville Chamberlain’s historic speech — as he announced ’… that consequently this country is at war with Germany’. Then the exodus of over one million people began. Marcia’s family was among them and she recounts her family’s evacuation to Hutton in Somerset, her subsequent birth and her Father’s work as an Aircraft Inspector with the British Aircraft Company, ‘B.A.C.’, who built the BEAUFIGHTER and the BLENHEIM LIGHT BOMBER.

3) OLLIE’S STORY — With her Father away in the “R.A.F”, working as a design engineer on the SPITFIRES and LANCASTER BOMBERS, she recounts her first journey, taken with her Mother, sailing across the choppy, waters of the North Sea, on a Grimsby cargo boat, to the remote Faroe Islands. There, she lived with her maternal grandmother in the family’s isolated, turf-roofed cottage for the duration of the war.

4) DIANE’S STORY — Whilst her Father was home on leave from the ‘R.A.F‘, she recounts how her family were buried alive beneath their shelter - the sole survivors of an air raid — resulting in the destruction of their house in Mitcham, Surrey. And her subsequent birth in war-torn London.

5) MARLENE’S STORY — Also in London, she recounts her birth and her early memories of being shuttled down to the Underground to sleep - of gas masks, barrage balloons, sandbags and the camouflaged buildings. She also recounts the horror of the Balham Underground Bomb and the subsequent rescue operation in which her Father, working as a fireman, was involved.
6) HEATHER’S STORY - After my birth at home in London during an air raid, I recount how at two weeks old, I was taken by my Mother, to stay with relatives in the seclusion of their Surrey cottage, already overflowing with ‘evacuees’. Then later I describe how I was taken with her, on my first train journey during the bombing, to my paternal Grandparent’s windswept home on the Aberdeenshire coast in Scotland. Also recounted - my Father’s reserved occupation as a boat-builder, working in the London docks, whilst combining long hours in the ‘A.R.P’. (Air Raid Precaution) And of how my Mother became involved with the “Kindertransport”, an operation rescuing Jewish children from the Nazi Reich.

“WHEN WE WIN THE WAR, YOU WILL HAVE BANANAS” — HERE FOLLOWS OUR COLLECTIVE ACCOUNT OF RATIONING, SHOPPING AT THE CO-OP, “A.U.C” — ANYTHING UNDER THE COUNTER? - PIG CO-OP’S, BLACK MARKET, POUCHER POCKETS, CARE PARCELS, BRITISH RESTAURANTS ETC:

*

As the war drew to a close, in June 1944, just a week after the D-day invasion of Europe, the flying bombs arrived. Chugging along like huge clockwork toys and dubbed as ‘doodle-bugs’, they were unleashed by day and by night on London.
Terror stricken, we were breathlessly quiet, whilst we sheltered under the stairs with our Mother’s, waiting for the engines to stop. There followed a harrowing silence, when we listened for the mighty explosion, which shook the entire house. The noise was horrendous, and the sound of those terrifying explosions, have remained with us to this day.

*

V.E Day — On Monday, 7th May 1945, the ‘B.B.C’ announced over the wireless, that the following Tuesday and Wednesday were to be Public Holidays - and at 3p.m the next day, Winston Churchill confirmed the surrender of all German armies and PEACE was finally declared!
Tuesday, 8th May, VICTORY IN EUROPE was designated as the official day to mark the end of the war and parties were held all over the country to commemorate this momentous event.

Dawning wet and humid, the day began with bunting being strung across the streets and flags fluttered, from every window. The churches held special services of Thanksgiving and the ĂŰŃż´ŤĂ˝ Guard paraded in the streets. At 3p.m precisely, Churchill made his famous broadcast and the bells pealed from every church spire throughout the land.
There was feverish excitement, and amid a sea of red, white and blue, Britain’s streets came alive with pageant and celebration. Resplendent in our patriotic rosettes and tasselled tammys, we all sat down to tea. Squeezed together on a motley collection of hard kitchen chairs, we proceeded to eat our way through a mound of sandwiches, sausage rolls and jellies, and of course the Victory cake, iced in red, white and blue. Equally exciting, was a collection of brown paper bags, piled up temptingly on the pavement below. Each containing some sweets, an orange and a bright, shiny shilling - a cheer went up, as we were presented with a bag apiece at the end of the afternoon.
A little later, we sat by our bedroom windows spellbound, as the ceremony of peace unfolded. Crowds thronged the streets singing, dancing and chanting ‘victory for us’. At nightfall, we watched an unforgettable display of fireworks. Into the pitch-black sky, rockets streaked away, sending down a cascade of colourful stars and the searchlights swept through the darkness. All over London, a mass of bonfires had long since been built in anticipation of the event. Now, blazing torches were thrust into the base of these pyres, igniting life-like effigies of Hitler, which had been hoisted on top. Then, from across the Thames, the ships siren’s wailed, the tugs tooted and the strains of Auld Lang Syne rose with the smoke from the funeral pyres, above the rooftops of our battered city. Although we had little understanding of their significance, the memories of those images being consumed in flames, made lasting impressions on our young minds.

**

COMING NEXT - “WHEN DADDY CAME HOME”-
FOLLOWED BY - “STARTING SCHOOL” - A COLLECTIVE ACCCOUNT OF AN INTRODUCTION TO OUR EARLY “ECCENTRIC” EDUCATION!

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