Memories of my life as an evacuee

By Ronald Edwards

The boys from Rochester on the steps of Caerphilly Grammar School in Wales

I am 83 years of age and from 1938 to 1941 attended Rochester Junior Technical School for Boys.

Our school was evacuated first to Sittingbourne on September 1st 1939 and then to Cardiff and finally Caerphilly in South Wales.

We shared facilities with local schools, at Sittingbourne with Borden Grammar School and in Wales with Caerphilly Grammar School.

Shortage of classrooms often meant that classes had to be held elsewhere.

Ronald Edwards was evacuated to Cardiff and Caerphilly

For instance in Sittingbourne we were sent to the school garden in Woodstock Road or fruit picking on a local farm when no classroom was available. My first billet in Sittingbourne was in Bell Road opposite the Cottage Hospital with a very religious family who insisted I went to Sunday school and church three times each Sunday, refused to allow me to use hair oil and objected to any friendship with girls.

Luckily I was able to move in with the O'nions family, also in Bell Road, who were more in tune with the lifestyle of a 13 year-old boy. Mr O'nions was the manager of a butcher's shop in West Street and my Saturdays were spent making sausages in the shop.

After a short time the school moved to Whitchurch, a "posh" suburb of Cardiff. I can well recall the first day spent at my billet there for on arrival I was told by the lady of the house to leave my shoes outside the door at night for the maid to clean, be home by 4pm in time for afternoon tea in the conservatory, and at dinner that night was provided with a display of knives, forks, spoons and a serviette the like of which I had never seen before.

All this presented to a young boy who came from a working class family. It was obvious that we did not fit in here and after a week the school was moved to Caerphilly.

Life in Caerphilly

On arrival in Caerphilly I was billeted in Princes Avenue with a very religious family who again placed severe restrictions on my freedom, once again church three times every Sunday, no hair cream and not allowed to speak to girls. I recall that the husband was in senior management in the main post office and I am told that his son, who compared to me could do nothing wrong, is now a practising Minister of the Church.

On one occasion, I was severely reprimanded when caught looking from my bedroom window at the next door lady of the house sunbathing in her back garden.

During my stay here I used to visit a farm at the top of the road and after striking up a friendship with Len Evans the owner and the family I was allowed by the local authorities to move in with them. Apart from Len and his mother there were a brother John and his wife Sylvia in the house and another brother Hubert who was at Aberystwyth University studying for a Veterinary Degree.

The stay at Nant-y-Calch Farm in Warren Drive with the Evans family was some of the happiest days of my life as they treated me as one of the family. During my stay my father died and the sad news was broken to me with great sympathy by John's wife who had taken me out specially on an outing to Cardiff for the day.

My day started with a milk round that took in the houses up Mountain Road, quite an experience especially in winter, followed by working in the dairy where I was kept busy filling 1/3 pint milk bottles by hand or helping to make Caerphilly cheese.

After school and at weekends I was kept busy helping on the milk round and working in the farmyard. One night when Cardiff was bombed, the mountain skyline was lit up and in the morning after we found an unexploded incendiary bomb that I dismantled. This brought a severe reprimand from Len.

Staying in touch

I have been fortunate to make contact over the internet with Len's son Geoff who now owns the farm and this has led to me talking on the phone to Sylvia who is now 94 and clearly remembers the time she took me to Cardiff.

Finally, along with all the boys in my train carriage, my school cap was thrown out of the window as we passed through the Severn Tunnel on our way home.

There is little doubt that the time spent on the farm with the Evans family moulded my character and was the foundation of any success I have had in life and for this I am eternally grateful.