It didn't take us many days to realise we weren't wanted. For the first time I had to wash my own hair, get breakfast for my brother and myself, wash dishes, boil a kettle and prepare the tea. From what I remember we were often left alone in the house and Billy and I would sit in front of the fire and I would tell him stories of the Fire Fairies who lived in 'The Land of the Crackling Fire' and point out with the poker exactly where they lived. We would also toast ourselves bread which we speared on the end of the toasting fork. I remember the son of the family, who was 13 or 14 yrs. old, making my life a misery. I seemed to spend my life dodging him.

Our parents had said they wanted us to go to Church so on our first Sunday we were told where the Church was and sent off to find it. To us it seemed a huge imposing building and we entered with temerity. We had no idea where to go and we were scared in case we sat in someone's pew. The service started with chanting and responses and we were absolutely lost. No-one showed us the place in the Prayer Book, in fact no-one ever spoke to us all the weeks we went. We hated it and again felt unwanted, intruders. In the end we decided not to go again and so after we set out we would find somewhere quiet to play and only return home when we judged the service to be over. I remember looking up into the Choir one day, but let me start at the beginning of this story. From the age of 5 I had been in the same class as twin girls. No doubt they were very nice girls but no-one really made friends with them as they always came to school unwashed and smelling. Their clothes were little more than dirty ill- fitting rags and they had nits. Their hair looked as if a comb was a foreign object to it and they were often without shoes.

This in itself was not uncommon and our teachers regularly asked us to bring in our pennies for 'The Shoeless Children's Fund' so that a pair of shoes could be bought for a child without them. We were also asked to bring to school any shoes we had grown out of but were still in good condition. I remember taking my shoes in after Mam had polished them until they looked like new and Dad had put new soles and heels on. Dad had a number of 'Lasts' on which he cobbled our shoes and in my mind's eye I can still see Dad bending over the table cutting out the leather and then hear the tapping of the hammer as it was fixed on to our shoes. It is what Wordsworth called 'the inward eye' in his poem 'Daffodils'. I gaze upon that 'inward eye' Which is the bliss of solitude.

Often when it was raining a child would be missing when the Class Register was called, and when the teacher asked if anyone knew where the child was someone would say 'She can't come in the rain, Miss, she doesn't have any shoes' and this was quite normal. It happened often and no-one thought anything of it. But to bring this story up-to-date these two girls came on the Evacuation with us and as I looked into the Choir there they were sitting clean and tidy, hair washed and combed, and dressed in the Choir robes. I couldn't believe my eyes. Without any exaggeration they were 'transformed!' After the service their foster parents were talking outside with others and each had an arm around the girls' shoulders, glancing at them with both love and pride. As for the twins they simply radiated joy as for the first time in their lives they knew what it meant to be looked after in love. I never saw them again after I left that village but I truly hope they stayed there for the rest of the war where they were wanted and loved. I hope it laid for them a secure foundation on which they could build their future lives.

Our first winter there was bitterly cold with mountains of snow and iced over ponds. In fact it was the coldest winter for over 50 years and the River Thames froze over!

As for Christmas Day I can't remember anything about it. I only know there was no excitement as there had been at home when Billy and I would dash into our parents' bedroom to show them our stockings, and then wait for Dad to light the sitting room fire when we would open the rest of our presents. That joy had gone. The only thing I vividly recall is listening to the King's speech on the wireless when he encouraged the nation with these words:

'I said to the man who stood at the Gate of the Year "Give me a light that I may tread softly into the unknown" 'And he replied, "Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.'

Wonderful, moving and comforting words which would be needed over the next six years. By January 1940 only two out of every three children had a school to go to as many schools were requisitioned for A.R.P. posts and Nursing Stations. This ratio was even less as the war progressed and schools were bombed. One school that had been wrecked by a bomb had nowhere to go so the teacher took the children into a churchyard for lessons. One bright lad said that this was so they could be buried quickly if another bomb hit them!!

Our foster mother said we had to eat a carrot on the way to school every morning, but as neither my brother nor I liked them at that time we would drop them in the snow.

Later, when the snow melted we could see the remains of our carrots lying in the, road. One of the few good things about that time was my clogs which resounded with a satisfying clatter as I ran on the cobbled stones which is how I got my nickname of 'Cloggy Lizzie'. They were great however for skating on the frozen ponds nearby. I can still remember them, dark green with a gold metal band round and I never wanted to take them off!

As well as having my best friend Irene with me I made two more good friends whilst I was there, the girl in the house at the other side of the archway who would help me wash my hair. and a girl called Delphinium Dingwall!!! A name to be reckoned with! I remember once when Delphinium and I went into the woods and picked lots of wild Crab Apples. Even though they were almost unbearably sour we munched our way through them - don't ask me why! And, of course, the inevitable consequences followed!

Another incident I recall was seeing one boy being caned for blotting his copy book. An easy thing to do as you dipped your pen into the inkwell on the desk then brought it over your book to write, but as we had by now graduated from our slates and slate pencils we were expected to write neatly with pen and ink. If, however, we were careless and blotted our copy book then we were punished. You didn't have to do much in those days to warrant the cane.

One good thing about that school was being chosen to be Ink Monitor! This important job entailed filling the inkwells on each desk from a large bottle. I loved doing this but there were a few boys who loved to jog my arm so that ink was spilt over the desk - more caning!!

The only times I was ever caned was either for talking in class or giggling and causing others to laugh. I shouldn't have done either, so I suppose I received my just reward! No-one liked getting the cane but it was always shrugged off by thinking 'Well I deserved it' and that was that!

I remember the day my Grandmother and Aunt came to visit us - a long journey for them and I can't remember where or for how long they stayed but I do remember them coming to the house when only Billy and I were at home. They were amazed when I said 'Sit down, I'll make you some tea' and promptly put the kettle on the fire, laid the table and brought out the food. 'You can't do that, you'll get into trouble' they said in a horrified voice and then it was my turn to be surprised as I said 'But I do this every day.' I had become used to working in the house so that by now it was the normal thing for me to do. What a change in a child who had gone to the Evacuation being looked after hand and foot.

My Mam sent weekly pocket money for me, my brother, and the other boy, but all we received was a half-penny on Wednesday and two pennies on Saturday - the rest was kept by the foster mother. By now sweet rationing had been introduced and sweet coupons were issued - 2ozs. per week which didn't go very far, and that was when you could get them! The shops did not always have sweets and what they had were vastly inferior to the sweets you can buy today and of course there wasn't the variety.

After about 7 months the foster mother told Mam to move us as the R.A.F. were coming nearby and she could get more money from them!
So it was back home, or rather to my Aunties' house as our house had been bombed. A large piece of shrapnel had come through the roof and into my bedroom so the roof had to be literally put back on and the bedroom plastered etc.

A bombed-out family needing to find somewhere to live.

It was a squash in Aunties' house with four extra but no-one minded as 'there's a war on you know!' People were being bombed every night, and some had to sleep in Church Halls. Others, like ourselves, were more fortunate in being able to stay with relatives, even though Mam, Dad, Billy and I were all in one bedroom.

It was at this time that electricity came to our road. Prior to this, every house had gas mantles which were lit by a taper and the chains at either side of the fixture were pulled down to whatever degree of light was required. So when the wonder of electricity came there was great excitement as Billy and I stood by the switch putting it off and on until 'That's enough' was shouted at us! I can still remember the thrill of this great invention coming into our house.

By this time we all had air-raid shelters and we shared ours with a neighbour, an old lady who was terrified and shook with fear. We felt so sorry for her. Every few minutes she would ask 'Is that one of ours?' 'Is that one of ours?' as the planes thundered above and Dad always answered 'Yes pet, don't worry, it's one of ours.' ONE!! there were dozens and dozens above us - enemy Bombers and Fighters, and our own Hurricanes and Spitfires all weaving and diving in a ballet of death. The noise of an air raid has to be experienced to be believed. The Germans didn't just send six or seven planes over, they would send hundreds and, in some cases as over London it would be 1,000 Bombers, Fighters and Stukas. These Stukas were a particularly nasty plane - they were dive bombers into which the Germans had fitted a siren so that as they dived they screamed. A very frightening sound which, of course, was exactly what they intended.

My Aunt saw a Stuka scream down on to a Policeman and machine-gun him. Fortunately he missed as the Policeman dived into a back entrance of a house. My Aunt spoke to him and he was, understandably, very shaken.

So added to all this noise was the extra sound of bombs falling with their particular whine followed by an explosion which shook the house and often the shelter in its intensity. Then there was the crashing of falling masonry and, of course, our own planes, the Spitfires and Hurricanes, the chatter of machine guns. it was like the worst thunderstorm you have ever experienced, plus so much more.

The Hurricanes were the planes the Germans were particularly afraid of. In fact when Goering asked his Luftwaffe pilots what they would like, their answer was ‘Hurricanes and Spitfires!’ This did not please old Goering!

I must not leave this description of an air raid without mentioning our Ack Ack guns which pounded away - what a thud! Then there was the sound of Fire engines scurrying to put the many fires out, of Policemen and Air Raid Wardens shouting directions and orders and the sound of Ambulances. It was deafening and we often put our hands over our ears to lessen the sound. It was such a relief when the raid was over and we heard the ‘All clear.’

We could then leave the tiny stuffy shelter and take a breath of fresh air - well, as fresh as the smell of burning; the clouds of dust from the bombed buildings; and the black acrid smoke that hung like a pall over our town would allow.

Sometimes it looked as bright as day when we stepped outside - it was the light from hundreds of fires burning, homes, shops and factories. We could also see the fires along the river as other towns had been caught in the raid. It was a relief to see our house still standing. Yet, in our relief, we wondered sadly who had been hit.

It is something you never forget.