GROWING UP IN PLUMSTEAD IN THE WAR YEARS.

Looking back I suppose my education during the War years was a bit 'hit and miss'. I was 4 years old when it started and 10 when it finished. I had already been to nursery school at Wickham Lane School for a while, but can't remember much about that. When all the children in cities were evacuated on the Friday before Chamberlain's speech, my sister and I, along with my mother and grandmother, were put on a train with dozens of other children, babies and mothers and ended up at Barming in Kent. I think we were only there a couple of weeks and I can't remember going to any school. When we returned to London I spent some time at Wickham Lane School again.

Most of the War we stayed in Plumstead, but after the Battle of Britain we four all departed to Devon, under our own steam. We had several shortish spells in Devon during the next 5 years, coming back to Plumstead when things quietened down and going back to Devon when things took a turn for the worse, for example when the Flying Bombs (doodlebugs) started, and again when the V2 Rockets started.

Once I reached 7 years of age I started going to Purrett Road School, now called Gallions Mount. I have a feeling that we either went for just mornings or just afternoons. I can't remember who the head teacher was then; whether it was a man or a woman, I haven't a clue; but I do remember some of the teachers. One was Mr Paton, who had his favourites, but I do remember he used to read to us “Tom Sawyer” and “Huckleberry Finn” and made it sound so exciting that it instilled in me a love of books and reading that has lasted all my life, so I am grateful to him for that. Another teacher I remember was a Mrs Murgatroyd, who was a bit formidable. I particularly remember Miss Stephenson, who was strict, but fair. Gallions Mount School was in those days (I don't know if it has been rebuilt now) a large Victorian building with big classrooms with very high ceilings, and the floor was staggered with wide shallow steps in rows where the desks stood. The naughty boys always used to sit at the back and if any of them were behaving badly and didn't take any notice of her first warning, Miss Stephenson would march to the back of the room, drag the offending boy down to the front by his ear, and bash his head against the blackboard. She wouldn't get away with it now; she would be sued by the parents and probably be dismissed.

In the basement of Galleon's Mount School during the War years was a Rescue Centre set up to shelter the people who had been bombed out of their homes. I don't think it was called a Rescue Centre then, the proper term evades me, but that is what it was. There were lots of mattresses and blankets there, and I believe refreshments could be obtained. I do remember us all taking shelter there when there were air raids. The girls' playground seemed huge to me then. On one side there was a very high brick wall, and believe it or not, there was a farm the other side. I don't think there were animals, but there were orchards. The toilets in the playground never failed to freeze up every winter.

In 1946 I took what we then called the 'School Scholarship', later called the 11-Plus. There were three papers we took then - Arithmetic, English language and, I think, General Knowledge. I did fairly well in English and General Knowledge, but my Arithmetic let me down, so I semi-passed the Scholarship. In those days, in London, there were three types of secondary schools: Grammar school, Secondary central and Secondary Modern. In Plumstead the grammar school for girls was Kings Warren, or The Brown School, because their uniform was brown. I went to the Woolwich Secondary Central School for Girls. In 1946 this was based in Bloomfield Road, and adjoined Woolwich Secondary Central School for Boys. We were kept strictly apart and no fraternizing!

I had my tonsils out that summer so I missed some more schooling. I was in Mr. Abel's class by then. He had taught my father so he must have been getting on then, but he was a nice man. Those of us who were leaving that year took it in turns to spend a day in the School Hall on Bell Duty. This meant sitting at a table, with a book to read, and the School Bell, and ringing it at the appropriate break times. Quite an honour! On the day it was my turn to do this; I remember looking out of the window into the distance and seeing the roof of St. Nicholas' Church on fire, so that was an added excitement.

Saturday morning pictures; my friends and I never missed a week. More often than not we would go to the Odeon in Welling; sometimes the Odeon or the Granada in Woolwich. We never went to The Kinema in Plumstead (later called the Century). For 6d (5 cents) you really got your money's worth. The programme usually started with a Disney cartoon, followed by an interest film, then a feature film (usually a Western), finishing with a serial. Each episode ended in a cliff-hanger, so you had to go again the following week to see how the hero got out of his predicament. In the 1940s, the cinema was a great place for entertainment.

Most cinemas, especially the smaller ones, changed their programmes mid-week. There were always continuous performances, so you could go into the cinema in the middle of the film, see the end, and then wait for it to come round again to see the beginning and then up to where you came in. So you knew how it ended as soon as it restarted! My grandmother was a great cinema fan. She often took me with her. We must have seen all the MGM musicals and Betty Grable films. We loved all the singing and dancing. Plumstead had another cinema called the Plaza, just along from Lakedale Road. This had once been a Methodist Hall - my mother and father were married there in 1933-but due to a change in its fortunes was turned into a cinema. I seem to recall that the floor of the cinema was level, not sloping like other cinemas, so if you were sitting near the back it was difficult to see the screen. I remember my father taking me there to see Laurence Olivier in ‘Henry V.’

I have always believed my sister and I were lucky in that, although we were evacuated, our mother and grandmother were always with us and they gave us as normal an upbringing as possible during war time. I never felt any fear about air raids, and regarding going down to the Anderson shelter when the siren went as a nuisance, rather than anything to be scared of. Even when I was older, towards the end of the war, I never felt that I might be hurt or killed when the Doodlebugs or V2 Rockets started, and I am sure that was because my mother never showed her fear (and she must have been terrified) and so my sister and I always felt safe. I can remember when the Doodlebugs (flying bombs) first started; one Sunday my mother was bathing us when suddenly we heard the tell-tale drone of a Doodlebug going over, and the engine stopped, and she dragged us out of the bath, threw us down on the floor and herself on top of us while we waited for the explosion. It came soon enough. The bomb landed on the caretaker's house at the entrance to Plumstead Cemetery, and killed all the occupants inside. Another Sunday, probably the next, my sister and I were at my cousins' house, while the rest of the family were just down the road at my other grandmother's house, when another Doodlebug went off nearby. Later we all ran down to this house to find all the windows blown in, everybody badly shaken up, but no one killed, thank God. That one had fallen in a field next to the “We Anchor in Hope” public house opposite. A very close call! After two very close shaves, back to Devon we went until the war ended.

In between this excitement, when not a lot was happening on the Home Front, and we only had the occasional raid, we carried on as normal. I can remember playing Cowboys and Indians on Plumstead Common, or Robin Hood; and once Phantom of the Opera when one of our friends put his coat on as a cloak and took the Claude Rains part from the movie.

One of our favourite places to play was a large area of waste ground we called 'Fanny on the Hill'. This was named after an old inn close by. There were allotments here, and on the far side an old infill site (which was strictly out of bounds). Best of all though, there were woods with bluebells in the spring, and blackberries in the summer, and a very shallow stream where we caught minnows, newts and sticklebacks, and paddled. We would spend hours here in the summer and make camps. We would go off in the morning with a bottle of cold tea and jam sandwiches and our parents wouldn't see us until teatime. Oh, the freedom of those days! Occasionally we would see a 'flasher' but we would just shriek with laughter and run off. There were always about six or seven of us, so there was safety in numbers.

When I was about 14 my father acquired a bicycle for me. It wasn't new, but I treasured it. Later on I'd cycle into the Kent countryside with friends. In those days, around Dartford and Bexley we used to think we were in the heart of the country. When I first got my bike I rode round the block. Every street had a 'pig bin', where people put scrap food in, to feed local pigs. This particular day I decided to shut my eyes and ride round and, you've guessed it, I went straight into the pig bin, knocking it over, falling off my bike, and landing in the contents of the bin! I didn't do anything so silly again!