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- John Reader
WW2. In those days, Dickens Avenue Hillingdon was full of help and camaraderie. Because of the war effort, the local authority had removed metal gates and fences, so it was impossible to buy even locks or new keys. Consequently, friends and neighbours would just walk to houses to check on the occupants. The ladies had replaced the men in the work place - sometimes with half the salary.
They had worked it out between themselves who would look after the children without losing out financially. Sometimes when the bombing was bad, teachers from school would come to one of the houses in Dickens for some children to have lessons.
Everybody had shelters - indoor or outdoor - and they built a concrete shelter covering half the road. This shelter was for anyone's use, also great for children to play in.
Brother Fred stepped out in front of a lorry from Southall, travelling to fast. He was in Hillingdon (Huts) hospital for 3 weeks. At the end of the war, the courts awarded Fred £50 compensation - that in those days was a lot of money.
The big thing for boys in those days was collecting shrapnel. We had heard a bomb had hit the bungalows opposite the Allied Rec on the West Drayton Road, but we were kept away by the home guard. Were you to find a big piece of shrapnel, you'd be everyone's friend. At the end of our garden, an incendiary bomb had landed in the field. But although they were dropped to cause fires, no damage was done. That field after the war would become Stevesons Nursery. In later life, I would work there during my school holidays. Having Ike Williams Pig Farm on one side of Dickens and Crawley Chicken Farm on the other, including Thackery Close on the other, on hot days it ponged.
Not many people know, at what we called top end of Dickens, there was a shop attached to a bungalow, owned by a Frenchman. His land grew fruit and vegetables, and when the boys hadn't been scrumping he also sold eating apples and eggs from the wandering chicken. I went in there one day; he made soldiers with led poured into moulds. He had armies, with all the tunics painted vivid colours - especially red. He gave me a British soldier who fought in the Napoleonic wars.
Half way down Dickens, there was a half circle without the central island - that's where the first big bonfire was lit to celebrate the end of WW2 in Europe... but that's next.
It was always thought men do the fighting; women do the worrying. These were now happy times with everyone pulling together.
The end of the war came. Dickens Avenue Road shelters were pulled down, boys and girls were playing in the road or on the pavement, hopscotch or football, there were no cars, except 2 doors from us. A car was stationary in the front garden the entire war - I think the husband was away in the army. The car was hidden by tall weeds and flowers, plus petrol was on ration. Even though petrol was rationed, for the police, ambulances, agriculture and the like, it was essential they had fuel, so the authorities added a dye, to stop anyone using it. Should they do so, it was a prison sentence. Some discovered if the petrol was boiled using heat the colour would vanish... as one can imagine many times the house vanished as well!
We would have football matches in the road - it was always top end (us) against bottom end (them). The friendliness of war time was over! People would moan when the ball (a tennis ball) went over their fence. We would all look the other way until the boy who kicked it over retrieved it. We always won...
My funniest moment for years happened then, we were picking teams and one boy said,: "I'll have Arf" and this tiny tot said: "I'll have the other Arf" - we all fell about laughing for about 10 minutes. Funny how all them years ago and it sticks in ones mind.
Basically in those days we were surrounded by fields with most of the boys learning to swim in Sabeys pits or the Grand Union canal. When my Dad's brother used to visit us, being from the city, he always mentioned we were all country bumpkins... When one thinks how London has expanded, we are now the London Borough of Hillingdon.
Brother Bill joined the Royal Navy for 7&5 before that he was employed as a Telegram boy. Can you imagine how long it would take to hear any news from a distance? His office was the Post Office in West Drayton. His journey there after leaving home was across the wooden bridge to Yiewsley. One morning, he was just crossing the bridge on his bike when he spotted a body... after carrying on, his conscience got the better of him He went back down to the water's edge and grabbed the arm showing above the water just as the bike slid in. It was a Taylor's dummy! He was then reprimanded for his uniform being muddy and for being late! Later, he would become an officer in the British Royal Navy. People started to move; some of the boys are doing their National Service, Brother Fred's in the RAF and a few years later I'd be joining HMS VIGO a battle Class Destroyer for my National Service in the Royal Navy.
Thinking back, could it have been possible to have had a better introduction to real life for all the children during and after WW2 than living at Dickens Avenue, Hillingdon, Middlesex? A place for fantastic kids with fantastic parents.
I left Dickens to marry Kitty for the greatest day of my life.
https://www.hillingdon.gov.uk/article/8146/Snapshot-of-memories
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Aft 1931 -
d. 1972, Hillingdon - Uxbridge - Middlesex - England 