Mam soon found another house with pretty wrought iron railings and gate.
Unfortunately these didn't last very long as they were needed for the war effort, and the sad day came when the men arrived and took them away. The house didn't seem so attractive after that but 'there's a war on you know' we were told when we grumbled!

I remember the coal fire range which was a mammoth task to black-lead.

The fire was in the centre with the coal oven at the left and a shelf above it. On the right was an open shelf where the kettle was kept when not on the fire, there was also a shelf above which was excellent for drying gloves and mufflers after playing in the snow! Above all this was the mantlepiece with its pelmet and on this stood the clock and other ornaments.

On the hearth the fire-irons were kept and these had to be kept shining with brasso. The coal scuttle was kept on the right hand side of the hearth. These came in many different sizes and shapes. Our was made in elegant wood with a brass handle for carrying down to the coal shed. There was also a brass handle at the front which, when pulled forward, opened to reveal a metal lined cavity in which the coal was kept. There was a hook at the back for the small shovel which was used to place the coal on the fire. The tongs were kept on the hearth with the other fire-irons

I remember, on special occasions, Dad would carry large shovels of burning coals into the front parlour to heat the room, and how excited we felt as we waited for the room to warm up. It was many years before we had a gas fire.

Outside, a long shelter was built in the street which was unsightly but necessary. I particularly remember this shelter as it was the one I crashed into later on when I was given my first bicycle. Billy, who by then was almost my size and growing rapidly, was teaching me. I was fine as long as he was holding on to the back and running with me. However the day came when I realised 1 was talking to myself and, looking back, found my brother standing still yards behind me. 'You're doing fine kid' he shouted whereupon I lost my nerve, swerved out of control and ran straight into the shelter. I ended in an ignominous heap on the ground, very sore! So, yes, I well remember this particular shelter! These shelters were built in many streets for the convenience of people who were caught outdoors when the siren sounded.

I remember we were always being asked to give old aluminium pans for the war effort and a cart regularly went round collecting them. 5.000 for a fighter 25.000 for a bomber. The W.V.S. also had places where we could take them.

We soon got used to hearing the wailing of sirens announcing another raid. I was a very light sleeper so I heard the North Shields siren which always sounded a minute or two before ours and by the time our siren was heard I had roused my brother and parents and we were already on our way to the shelter.

Mam always picked up the prepared suitcase in which were our best clothes, ration books and other important documents. If the house was bombed then at least we had a few clothes to wear. We shared our shelter with a schoolfriend of my Mam's who was married with a daughter two years younger than me. We got on very well, in fact years later she was my bridesmaid. We tried to make the shelter as cosy as possible so that even though it was cramped one family on one side and the other family opposite - it was homely. There was a tiny paraffin stove to boil the kettle and always a tin of biscuits or homemade cakes, each family taking it in turn to provide what was needed. We sang and chatted but always we asked 'What time is it?' as if the raid went on until after 3 a.m. then we needn't go to school until 10 a.m. but if the raid ended before that time then we had to be at school for the usual time. So we asked that question at least every half-hour - very wearing for the parents no doubt! I remember feeling very weary getting up in the morning after a long raid but when I asked if I could stay off school and stay in bed a little longer Mam would say 'What can't be cured must be endured!' I heard that phrase many times!! Dad would come into our bedrooms chanting 'Wake up, wake up, rise up and shine, the sun's scorching your eyes out' - a First World War Sailor's chant which he had heard whilst serving in the Royal Navy - and so he would be heard gaily carolling this chant whether it was sunny, pouring with rain or even snowing.

Mother on the other hand would add 'You aren't the only one who is tired so get up and let's hear no more about it'. One didn't argue long with Mother!!

Dad had loved his time in the Royal Navy in the First World War and never tired of telling us tales of his experiences. We loved them too and often asked 'Tell us about the Admiral' and so he would begin:- 'One day I was on the Admiral's ship leading the Convoy across the Atlantic. It was bitterly cold with mountainous seas and, to keep us warm, the sailors who were on the previous Watch would put potatoes in the oven for us and when we went on Watch we would take the potatoes in their jackets out of the oven and stand and eat them as we kept watch. Likewise when we came on Watch we would put potatoes in the oven to be ready for the next Watch. On this particular day I was looking out to sea and didn't notice someone creeping up on me until I was held by the seat of my pants and the scruff of my neck over the rail. I was terrified and then as I was lowered back on deck I saw it was the Admiral.' (Billy and I would both gasp at this point and ask 'What happened?) ' The Admiral looked sternly at me,' Dad would continue, 'And asked "What is that in your hand Seaman?" 'A potato, Sir' "Where did you get it?" 'From the Galley, Sir'. "Then explain to me how it got there boy". Dad then said he explained to the Admiral what the sailors did. The Admiral thought for a moment whilst Dad said he waited wondering what punishment he would get. After a while the Admiral smiled at him and said "Next time you're on Watch, put one in for me" and he walked away. Dad loved telling us this story and he re-lived it every time it was told.

He got on well with the Admiral who would take his potato from Dad and stand and chat whilst they munched on the hot, comforting supper! Dad had exceptionally good eyesight in those days and could see pinpoints of light before anyone else on board. He also gained over 90% for both semaphore and morse code and I believe I still have his exam results papers. As the war came to a close the Admiral asked Dad to stay on and join the regular Royal Navy, he said Dad had a great career in front of him but by that time Dad was courting Mam and, as she was very beautiful, he was scared in case someone else walked off with her whilst he was away, so he said 'No' to the Admiral and came home.

Photographs of Mam and Dad 1917

I still have a few of the souvenirs Dad brought back from his travels. A pure silk handkerchief from Ireland, another pure silk handkerchief from France, a shoe horn from Holland together with a shoe button hook in silver. These were bought in a shoe shop at 15, Scheepstimmersmanslaan, in Rotterdam, the name is engraved on the shoe horn together with various pictures of ladies' boots. There is also a handkerchief from America and a handkerchief sachet, again in pure silk, with the Royal Naval crest embroidered on the front. I also have the Sailors' New Testament which was given to him by his Sunday School teacher in 1908 - a shadow of things to come! Precious things which I treasure to this day. Dad's ship was also sent to the Tropics, unfortunately I don't have a photograph of him in his 'Tropics' uniform. However, at the end of the 1914 - 1918 war Dad brought his white tropics uniform home and when Billy was in the Boys' Grammar School he wore this uniform when he was a sailor on the Operetta 'The Pirates of Penzance.'

But to get back to the Second World War, it must have been a difficult time for teachers, too, as not only had they to cope with their own personal weariness after a long raid, but they had to try to teach an equally weary class. I sometimes wonder how we all coped, but we did and found humour in the most bizarre of situations. It kept us going throughout the war.

My Grandmother had also moved back home and before long the Billeting Officer called on her to find out how many rooms she had which were unoccupied. As Gran had a spare room she was told she would be taking an Airman from the Barrage Balloon site opposite.

There was no 'Will you?' it was 'You will be taking an Airman' but she didn't mind. In a war, everyone pulls together.

Photograph of Grandma MARY ELIZABETH SUMMERS nee FISHER taken in the late 1800's.

Once again I went to a new school. It wasn't very far from where we lived and I had to walk past the Fever Hospital to get there. It always gave us the shivers to walk past as so many of our friends were in there. In fact it was the custom in those days whenever we saw the Fever Van going round the streets to collect sick children we would stand still and recite 'Touch collar, never follow, Never come to my bed' and so we would stand holding our collars until the Fever Van was out of sight. I remember Mam was always asking us to give our comics and books to the Hospital.

She would say 'Now you know you will never get them back don't you? Once they are in there they can't come out as the infection can be carried on paper' and so we would sort out toys and books we were finished with and Mam would take them to the sick children in Hospital. We also bought the children colouring and painting books

There was also a large Sanitorium on the outskirts of our town which I remember visiting when my friend, Beatrice, had T.B. I thought it was a beautiful place with views of the Cleadon Hills.
Beatrice told me the beds were taken out on to the verandah when it was warm and they slept there. I thought it was a wonderful life being able to sleep outside and quite envied her until I saw her coughing up blood! I changed my mind after that!
It wasn't easy going to yet another school, but in my new class I saw Irene, the girl whom I had known since Primary School, and who had been evacuated with me. She, too, had experienced an unhappy billet when evacuated with her younger sister and brother so it made an extra bond between us. We were both put into the same 'House' - Edith Cavell, the nurse who, in the First World War had worked in a hospital in Belgium. She had also helped many of our men escape from the Gennans and for this she was caught and shot. This, of course, fuelled our hatred of the enemy, the Germans. 'How could they do this to a young nurse?' we asked ourselves.

Elizabeth Aynsley ©

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