  When we first moved in to 933 I went to Days Lane School for a short while, but when Westwood School (map left - click to enlarge) was finished we went there. Westwood was certainly the happiest time of my school life, I loved it there – best of all when I was old enough to go up into the big girls’ school (Seniors). It was a lovely building, girls and boys separate, but all in one school. It was built around a grass quad – hallowed ground we were never allowed to set foot on. A corridor ran all the way round the school and looked on to the quad. Halfway on two sides of the corridor were big doors, always locked, to keep the boys from the girls, or the girls from the boys, I’m not sure which, but it worked.
During 1938 when my dad was working at the Public Record Office in Chancery Lane, I met a man who was working with him from the government archives in Ceylon as it was called then. I don’t think I uttered a word as I was so amazed at seeing a black man. However, this man had a daughter the same age as me, and he and my dad arranged an exchange visit for us. This was planned for the summer holidays of the next year – 1939. I was so thrilled, nobody I knew had ever been abroad. Unfortunately the war changed all that and it never took place.
 I was twelve in the summer of 1939, and Peter was seven. All through the summer preparations for war were being made. Trenches were dug in all the parks and open spaces for air raid shelters. Everyone had to tape their windows to stop the glass from shattering. We had air raid drill every day at school, filing out in order into the shelters which had been built on the school playing fields.
Everyone was issued with a gas mask which we had to carry everywhere we went. They were worn over our shoulders like a satchel. Our front room was turned into a ‘safe room’ – quite useless I expect, but it made us feel safer I suppose. The chimney and every crack was stuffed with paper and the windows all sealed. A bowl of water and a blanket were kept in there so we could hang a wet blanket over the door to stop the gas getting in. A supply of tinned food, plus containers of water and a primus stove were also kept in there. I don’t remember that anything was done about sanitary arrangements, so I presume we were supposed to hold our breath while we crept out to the loo. Thank goodness it was never put to the test because gas was never used as a weapon, but at that time it seemed to be the worst fear.
| Looking back on that pre-war period, they were golden days for us. We were quite comfortably off compared with some people. I realise now that we were part of the new elite, living in suburbia in a new house with a large garden. A bedroom each, plenty to eat and ‘best’ clothes as well as school clothes. I suppose our parents must have had their share of worries and troubles the same as any young parents, but we never knew anything about them. |
The preparations for war went on. My father joined the LDV (Local Defence Force) which later became the ARP (Air Raid Precautions). He was an air raid warden and was issued with a tin hat, a whistle and an armband. He took all this very seriously, although he was very disappointed that he couldn’t get back into the Navy. Everyone started stocking up with tinned food, my mother always bought extra when she went shopping. Then there was the blackout to prepare for. Blackout curtains were put up in every room in the house. Even my dad’s shed was blacked out.
My father started to work shifts at the Public Record Office. He went to London to work in the morning and came home again on the evening of the next day, then he had a night and a day off. The night he spent at the office he was on firewatching duty. Although the war hadn’t started, everyone had to act as if it had. “Be prepared” was the motto of the time.
Peter and I were allowed to go out as usual, as long as we took our gas masks along.
This is an abridged version. The full story, including Pauline's reminiscences of WWII can be found at the Falconwood local history site. |
