For more than a decade Hullbridge became a weekend and holiday retreat for Londoners. With the advent of World War ll and the bombing of the East End the temporary residents regarded the village as a safer, more permanent home.

RECOLLECTIONS

LOUISE RADDON
My dad came to Hullbridge in 1942. Two landmines had come down on parachutes near where we lived in London and my dad said, "That`s enough!". He knew the village as his brother lived here. We rented an old cottage in Windermere Avenue for a while. Then one day, dad met a chap down at the Anchor pub who offered him a property in Grasmere Avenue. Four acres with just a shack on it, for £180. Dad didn`t hesitate because he knew the bombing in London was really bad.

The shack was on stilts, the floorboards were rotten but it was a shelter over our heads. Dad made it habitable. No gas of course, nor electricity. We used oil lamps. The water was from pumps. We would keep butter and meat in a milk churn buried in the garden. There was no comfort here but it was a friendly place. We could go to Southend for the day and leave the doors unlocked and everything would be the same when we came back.

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