THIS IS FINDON VILLAGE — www.findonvillage.com created by Valerie Martin, contains scenes from her home village of Findon, West Sussex, U.K.
WARTIME SCHOOLDAYS
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Infants at the Findon School 1943/44. Back row, left to right:- Bob Fell, Daphne Bushrod, Phyllis Collier, unknown, R. Hood, Raymond Beal. Middle row, left to right:- Margaret Griffin, B. Nicholson, M. Webb, J. Warren, Valerie Bushrod, Sylvia Bennett. Front row, left to right:- V. Turner, T. Small, Sylvia Mills, David Whittington, Barbara Pelling, Phyllis Pierce. |
Copyright Valerie Martin 2000
The lateTony Hammond was a schoolboy living at Hermit Terrace in Findon during the Second World War and his reminiscences during his stay (1939-44), go back to those gloomy years of blackout and rationing . The boys of Findon, not understanding the seriousness of the time, enjoyed the thrill of bombs being dropped. Life was full of excitement — watching aircraft in the sky and hearing the clatter of machine guns as Hurricanes and Spitfires fought Dorniers and Heinkel bombers.
First and foremost Tony recalled the appalling condition of the outside toilets at his place of education. This is closely followed by the dreadful chill of the cramped classrooms; especially cold for those pupils sitting at the rear of the room. How they survived the numbing winters is a wonder. Only the lucky ones at the front benefited from the open fire near the conveniently positioned teacher's desk. During "playtime" in the winter, I have even heard that the children sneaked down to the cellars as this was the warmest part of the school.
Each day lucky children from his class were chosen to collect the morning milk ration from Findon Farm run by Albert Short Junior in the Horsham Road. It was a bit of a struggle getting up School Hill and heaving the full metal crate of bottles up the school step, (especially on frosty mornings). It was all worth it to miss part of the lessons — even if only for a short while. They were the archetypal little lads of the village with cloth caps and short pants, getting grubby in the playground and looking forward to their next treasured sweet ration.
Each class eventually progressed to secondary school, which involved catching a bus to Thakeham. This was not a school bus but the normal service. The noisy, chattering pupils must have often disrupted the journey when they joined the bus each day. They were a menace as they stomped and clattered up the metal stairs in their heavily studded boots — and unwittingly made a general nuisance of themselves to the other passengers. The bus followed the normal route to Storrington and when the thankful public alighted, the pupils continued to Thakeham.
The Findon children spent a long day at the school with their peers from other outlying communities. I have even heard their place of education referred to as "Stalag Thakeham".
Their teachers were mainly female with the exception of Joey Bundy the Headmaster; a woodwork teacher and another who had accompanied the evacuees from London to spend the duration of the war "in the country". The young pupils soon learned that their sports field had been dug up to support the war effort and had been transformed into one enormous grand allotment in an effort to "Dig for Victory". Part of the educational curriculum for everyone was, yes — gardening, and their produce quickly found its way into the school kitchen if it had not been eaten by the wireworm or the pigeons had not eaten the brassica. Here in the kitchen, with a bit of luck, it was magically transformed into something edible by lunchtime.
At the close of each school day, the Findon boys and girls clambered aboard the bus homeward bound again. It was not unusual for one or two of the more disruptive boys who had let off steam during the journey, to be set down early at North End by the driver. Their punishment was to walk the rest of the way home to Findon.
| 29th November 2004 Bombs Valerie - It was during
my meeting with Bill Day that the question of German bombs came up, and we
had a good old chuckle about the time we discovered a very large fragment
of one when investigating a crater (one of three ) in the field on the
north side of Long Furlong just opposite the Kennels.
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Brian Chappell, a Findon schoolboy at the time, recalls returning home one evening when there had been an accident next to the Washington Recreation Ground. An ammunition truck had exploded and created a great hole in the road and had killed the soldiers. It made the children late home from school.
In those days, Brian was nicknamed "Shrapnel", mainly because of his surname but also for collecting war memorabilia. He recounts that one day, he discovered an incendiary bomb that he took back home. The police very soon were called to his doorstep to take it way to be disarmed before bringing it back to him.
The summer evenings were the children's own, and on occasions after school the boys paused from their boyish games and sneaked into the barn at Findon Farm in the Horsham Road to help themselves to Albert Short Junior's "pig potatoes". What were pig potatoes? These were the rejected tiny ones about the size of golf balls, considered too small for commercial use. The pig potatoes were always piled aside in a heap and awaiting boiling in a large vat for the farm pigs to eat. The children of the 1940s saw nothing wrong in scooping up a few bowls to take home for their mothers to cook. With their skins on they were delicious and far too good for the pigs — in any case it was wartime. It was an integral way of Findon life during the war to scrounge.
The schoolboys were also very intrigued by the "armoury" on the first floor of one of the barns at Albert Short's farm. There were various sized metal grills in the floor through which lead was poured to make lead shot. On their way out of the farm, via the dairy, the lads would treat themselves to what they considered a well-deserved mug of warm milk — again, it was wartime.
Tony Hammond also reminded me of Shem Randall who was a village character from these days. He lived a few houses from Tony's grandmother at the old Council cottages and was minus an arm that he had lost in a shooting accident. With the pockets of his poacher's jacket bulging with ferrets, he was a familiar figure in Findon. He knew all there was to know about the surrounding countryside and was a crack shot. Findon's equivalent of television's Seth Armstrong in Emmerdale.
On Friday nights the local rabbit population was safe, for it was on a this evening when Shem conducted a form of boys club. This was held in what could only be described as a shack next to the school and the majority of the evening was spent playing cribbage. Shem was adept at the card-game and dexterously held his cards in a slotted wooden block. As the evening drew on and the players began to flag he would produce a ferret or two out of his pockets for Tony and his friends to play with. Tony told me that one never forgets the first time being bitten by a ferret.
During the term of office of the Reverend Usher Bull in Findon, the organ at St. John the Baptist Church had to be pumped by hand and this was also carried out by Shem Randall. Whether this was before he last an arm or not, I am not sure.
Nick Balmer has also reminded me of schooldays in Findon..
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13th April 2004. My father was with us over the Easter weekend. I knew that my grandfather and his wife had lived at Worthing from about 1937, when they built a house in St Michaels Road Worthing. They were there throughout the war years, until about 1950.
What I had not realised, was that my father had gone to
Windlesham Preparatory School, which he tells me was in Findon.
In 1940, with invasion expected shortly, the school was
evacuated to the shores of Lake Windermere. He recounts the story, of
going up via London, with another boy, and the boys mother. The train
arrived in London at the height of one of the biggest raids in the
Blitz. This poor mum had to find her way with two small boys across
London, with many of the streets on fire, and the tubes stopped.
He had to stay up in Cumbria for over a year, with no
home visits, which must have been rough for a ten year old.
We are very lucky not to face these dangers on the
school run today.
Regards
Nick Balmer
Nicholas Balmer, Baldock, Hertfordshire.
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Last but not least...
"We only wanted to play soldiers".
Continue if you would like to read about Adolf Hitler's Connection with Cissbury Ring.
THIS IS FINDON VILLAGE — was launched by Valerie Martin in January 1999 and will grow to be a historical record of life in Findon, West Sussex, U.K.
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E-mail: valeriemartin@findonvillage.com |
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