Evacuees

Evacuees

I remember the first evacuees who suddenly descended on the village from the east end of London and the local do-gooders were given the job of billetting them. The formula was simple-if you had six rooms and housed four people it was expected that you would take two evacuees. As everyone expected the conflict would be over by Christmas the poor evacuees were seen as a transient problem, victims of a government in panic. The rector's wife was given the unenviable task of housing these children and when it was suggested to her that we take one my mother asked how she was going to accommodate twelve as their house was bigger than ours.

Nothing happened for several months and the evacuees drifted back to London. Following the German attack and then the evacuation of the army at Dunkirk in France things hotted up and nightly raids on the capital made us realise that the war was here to stay. The evacuees came back in droves. I recall one poor lad, Jimmy Jackson by name who was staying with Fred Norman in North Fen. Jimmy had borrowed Edie's (Fred's wife) bike. He must have thought he'd entered hell when he fell right off into a bed of stinging nettles. I wonder where he is now. I'll bet he still remembers those nettles.