Home is where you make it

Harry and I were married on 11/12/1937 and at the time that war was declared we were living in Talbot Rd, Forest Gate, London. My husband volunteered at the beginning of 1940 and was called up on 31/1/1940. He was stationed at Swindon and went for a medical but didn’t pass due to a heart murmur. He asked for a second opinion, was sent to Harley Street and passed.

Harry was home on weekend leave when the blitz started on a Saturday afternoon in 1941 so he took me back with him to Swindon – just left everything. My family got our furniture and goodies from Talbot Road and moved it into my mother’s house in Forest Gate (East London).

I stayed at various addresses in Swindon, at the time I was pregnant and on the first night I slept in a very old cottage the family were very poor people. I stayed in Swindon until my son John was about 2 months old.

I had trouble with pregnancy and went into a cottage hospital for a month. My son John was born on 22/3/1941. As the blitz was still on I had no visitors but the next day Harry came to see me on the back of a dispatch rider’s motorbike for a few minutes. He was then stationed at Cobham, Surrey and he got me fixed up in lodgings nearby. After a few weeks he was stationed near Salisbury in St Philips House, now a National Trust property. We stayed in the lodge – no running water, no coal and no electricity, we chopped trees down for the wood fires. The husband was a chauffeur and drove a Rolls Royce. Once a week we went to Salisbury Market to do the shopping. Mr Philips was a magistrate in London and sometimes we came back in the “Rolls”. We also went to the farm for Xmas and Harry used to milk the cows on the farm in his spare time.

In 1943 Harry was sent to Athens where they were having problems with the Communists. They tried to starve the Greek people out. Harry made friends with a Greek family named Katsilis – mum, dad and two children. He used to collect up the leftovers from the barracks and give it to the family and save chocolate for the children. The husband, Nick, had been educated at London University so spoke very good English. They were very grateful to Harry for his help. After the war and during the rationing period, Mr Katsilis used to visit London on business and would contact Harry to meet and give us sultanas, raisins and crystallised fruits, I was the envy of my friend and neighbours. It proves that a little kindness can reap rewards in the future. After the war they also came to stay with us one Christmas.

It was now relatively quiet so I came home to London and stayed with family.

Some friends at Stratford Congregational Church had some houses, which were being made habitable. So I moved into one of these properties. I had my second son, Peter, on 6/2/1944.

We were living in Leytonstone when the flying bombs started and on the 27/7/1944 we had a direct hit at about 8.00pm. John was in his sleeping bag in the Shelter. Peter was in his pram in the back garden as it was such a lovely evening. As soon as the motor on the bomb stopped, I rushed to get Peter, in the panic, I couldn’t get the safety straps on the pram undone. At last I managed to free him and ran like mad, throwing him in the Shelter but we were very lucky not to be injured or killed. They took Peter (5 months) and John (3 years) to hospital but John wouldn’t stop screaming. The doctor said we were okay and gave John an injection to try and calm him down. The doctor then turned to me and said have you looked in a mirror lately? I said no and when I did look I was covered in soot!! It took John years to overcome his fear of loud bangs, even fireworks on bonfire night or balloons bursting would upset him.

The two boys and I were then sent to New Brighton and had three new homes until peace was declared. Life seemed to improve with no bombing. An amusing little anecdote, whilst staying in New Brighton one night a mouse got into my bedroom, I could not scream as it would wake up the boys, so I spent the night wide awake and huddled in bed terrified of a mouse. So much for the Germans and their bombs!!

At the end of the war I wanted to come home to London but I had nowhere to go. I had lost all my possessions in the bombings. The council could only offer me a Nissan Hut. I accepted this so I could have a home for my husband and children. The estate was in Whipps Cross, Leytonstone on the outskirts of London. There were 300 Nissan Huts on the site and we were number 292.

Harry was demobbed from the army in November 1945 and started life as a civilian in the Nissan Hut. We were lucky as our hut was at the end of a row with a large piece of ground and despite knowing little about gardening we grew all our own vegetables. We were there for 2 years - the 2 happiest years of my life – after this we were given a Prefab where we stayed for about a year.

My daughter, Jennifer, was born on 12/3/1948 and we were then given a brand new council house in Forest Gate because the prefab was too small, and we stayed in the house for 27 years. My husband Harry died on 25/11/1964 after a long illness and I married William Berry on 6/11/1966 (introduced by my daughter!!).

I am now 92 years of age and living in Chelmsford, Essex.

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