Being Clouted

As a schoolboy I was evacuated to Baythorne End in Essex. My Aunt and Uncle ran a pub there, and we kids used to play outside. One day I saw a Yank who said he had sweets in his saddlebag. Wile he was in the pub, I decided I wanted a look. He came out, accused me of being a “thieving little…” and gave me a clout!

Another time, a landmine fell round the corner. I was sent out to collect firewood, and noticed that the local funeral parlour had been bombed out. I found a baby’s coffin, which I took home for the fire. I presented it to my mum and got another clout!

I remember I used to sit on top of the air raid shelter. I would call out to my Mum, “Look, there’s two bombs just come out”, to which she would invariably reply, “Well get in here then!”

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