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Part II: An evacuees story

Dad (George) age four and brother Fred aged 12

The train journey lasted for most of the day, and both Fred and I were feeling very tired as the train slowed to a stop in Port Isaac Road Station. We left the train and stood on the platform with several other children in an orderly group. A lady in an official capacity armed with a clipboard, called out our names and duly ticked them off as we answered. The group then boarded a coach that would take us into the village itself. The coach came to a halt at the top of the hill above the village and we all got off. I think the building that we’d stopped by was called The Methodist Hall, and this was soon going to be the infant’s school.

The group then followed the lady down into the village, where she would stop at certain houses and ask the occupants if they would be willing to take in one or two evacuees.

The group slowly thinned out to leave just Fred and myself. We found ourselves standing outside number 13 Middle Street and the official lady knocked on the door.

When the door opened there stood Mrs Hancock and the official put the question to her. She smiled and said” Well come on in then, I’ll get you something to eat”. That was the start of five very happy years for me.

RT @minervity: 10 Ways To Become A More Efficient And Productive Blogger – http://bit.ly/decFbG

Dad’s story as an evacue

1. The Journey

The old steam train pulling out of Chiswick main line station is packed with children of all ages. The mass exodus had started all over England from the major cities and towns that were about to become targets by German bombers.

With a luggage label tied through the lapel of my little raincoat with just my name on it, the obligatory gas mask in a pressed cardboard box strapped over my shoulder, I was just one of millions of children evacuated to the safety of the country. I was just four years old and did not really understand a lot of what was happening, but to be going on a train journey for the first time in my life was exciting. Being so young I was lucky enough to be accompanied by my brother Fred, who was twelve.

The Harris boys (L to R – Fred, George, Jim and John

RT @julien: Is your life a room or a corridor? Find out here. http://bit.ly/bY27xn

Living in California while most of my folks are in England (with a straggler in Australia and a few in Canada), it makes sense to use Facebook. I still pick up the phone and use e-mail, but generally it’s a lot easier to upload pics, videos and comments that are shared amongst those who elect to receive them. If truth be known, they probably have me on “hide”.

The Social Media Diva in me needs to let you know: If by any chance you don’t know how to hide but not offend a “friend,” you have a friend in me! To the top right of the post as you mouse over, there will be a hide button. It’s there for a reason!

I digress. As usual.

So, having re-married several years ago, my husband decided after being “downsized” that it would be financially beneficial for him to work first in Miami, then Chicago and now Denver, while I keep the home fires burning in Windsor, CA. Mostly. The ride has been turbulent, a metaphor for life today.

Our passion is music, something that is a family trait. I remember as being barely out of diapers and visiting a hall in Chiswick, watching my dad play lead guitar (I think?), with “George and the Dragons.” Yes, dad was “George.” My brother Dale inherited the musical gene and is a professional guitarist, with a Ph.D to prove it! Click through the link if you love the guitar.

Applying my musical gene to the separation equation, Rob, my hubbie, and I connect via YouTube. We mostly share music and vignettes of TV shows that we love and enjoyed. Here’s a few of my favourites:

Excerpt of British Ads from the 60s – 80′s (8 minutes – but worth the time. Spot the celeb!)

A snippet from Live Aid

Dusty Springfield

Elaine Paige/Cliff Richard (for mum, Linda and Pam!)

How do you keep in touch?

Love to hear from you!

Karen

Called home today. That’s London, UK. Mum, always happy to hear from me, sounded a little rushed. Local time she should have stepped out from the tub and preparing for bed. Not. Evidently dad was in the guest bedroom, that charades as his cave and internet cafe, waiting for a radio announcement about a neighbor. She was in a hurry to join him so we shared a little more about why. This is the scenario.

Larry Lucas, a neighbor of my folks in Shepperton, UK,  took the ferry with his son and daughter’s boyfriend from England to France on a cycling vacation. All went well until they approached the ferry for their return to England, when Larry had a freak accident, resulting in a comma. This was 6/3/10. He was helicoptered to a hospital near his home several weeks later.

Dad sent a message to the hospital radio DJ that would be broadcast to peeps and to those that listen via the internet.

Larry, I can’t wait to meet you on my next visit home!

Karen

Blog Interruptus?

Spent several hours posting a five-minute blog to my “other” account.

Okay, I’ll share: It’s Different Now.

But that’s not the point. Am I naïve in that perhaps I expect too much from a “free” blog account?

Please share like experiences,

Thanks!

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