Notes
Note for: Philip Sydney Smith, 18 FEB 1880 - 23 FEB 1962
Notes
Note for: Henry Smith, 5 FEB 1849 -
1. Checked 1891 census returns in Horniglow parish - no longer at that
address. But the interesting thing was, the people living in
Thomas Street, were all employed at the brewery. What brewery that is
i do not know as yet.
Notes
Note for: Charles Albert Green, -
Dwelling: 38 Brad St
Census Place: Lambeth, Surrey, England
Source: FHL Film 1341133 PRO Ref RG11 Piece 0584 Folio
79 Page 4
Marr Age Sex Birthplace
Charles GREEN M 20 M Lambeth
Rel: Lodger (Head)
Occ: Coachman (N D)
Alice GREEN M 20 F Lambeth
Rel: Wife
Notes
Note for: Irene Watts, 15 AUG 1915 -
IRENE BALLARD (Nee Watts)
Irene was born in Brighton and was the last child in her family. They
all loved the beach and made sure Irene did too, from an early age. She
was evacuated for a short period to St. Ives, in Cornwall and quite fell
in love with the place. However, her father became very ill, so she was
brought back to London.
Irene was educated at Lollard Street School in Kennington, London, where
she won a scholarship at 10 years of age. She continued her education
at Morley College in Westminster and eventually found work as a
cashier/book-keeper with the Army & Navy Stores.
Married at an early age, Irene went to live at Sutton, Surrey, but at the
beginning of World War 2 she and her husband moved to Dulwich, in south
east London, where their daughter Pat (who has since passed away) was
born.
- -
- - - - -
IRENE REMINISCES:
As soon as the war began, my husband would ask each day if the postman
had brought his calling-up papers. All his friends had received theirs
and he was feeling left out of things. What we did not know was that
they had been sent to our previous address and, when they were finally
re-addressed to us, he was told he was overdue and had just 24 hours to
get to his unit, or he would be arrested. You can imagine the panic
that caused. I felt quite lost after his hurried departure, although I
had a new baby daughter for company.
My husband was inducted into the army at Richmond Park in Surrey. From
there he was sent to different areas, three of which were in Scotland.
He loved Scotland, saying it was so very beautiful in the glens. He was
then sent to Folkestone and on to Dover. Dover was being shelled from
France at that time. He received a shrapnel wound over one eye, which
later caused him to have blackouts. Towards the end of the war he was
returned to Richmond Park, where he became a batman to an officer. He
always told me it was Richard Greene, the actor, but as he was always
laughing when he said it, I was never sure if he was joking or not. His
blackouts stopped after a few years and, although a diabetic, he lived
until 1983.
I remember the first time the Germans came over and bombed the East End.
They came back again a bit later that night and used the fires below as
guidelines to repeat the process.
One night, I was carrying my daughter, gasmask and everything else I
would need to the shelter, when there was an unusual sound from above.
I looked up and could see something that looked like a large cross with a
flame coming out of one end and, as I watched, it blew up in the air. I
had just lifted my foot up to take a step upwards when the object
exploded and I froze there, unable to move from shock. I just couldn't
put my foot down again for what seemed ages. I had just seen my first
V1.
I owe my life to an air-raid Warden, who lost his. I had been given
instructions to change from my usual shelter to one that had been partly
buried in the ground. The first night I went to this new shelter, the
warden said to me "we are very crowded in here, lady. Would you mind
going into the next one, please?". So off I went, with baby Pat and all
our gear, as requested. There was less than three metres of earth
separating the two shelters. That night, the shelter in which I should
have been sleeping received a direct hit and everyone inside was killed,
including the Warden who had suggested I'd be more comfortable
elsewhere. I owe my life to him and three metres of earth. When it
happened, we were thrown to the floor in my shelter, the lights went out
and lost my voice for about 10 days.
By the time my daughter was 18 months old, I had taught her that when the
siren went, we had to go into the bathroom (our smallest room) and get
down onto the floor. One day, when my mother was visiting us, the siren
went and we moved towards the bathroom, my daughter leading the way.
She stopped in the doorway, bent over rigid, disinclined to let either of
us in. We just couldn't get her to move until the All Clear sounded,
upon which she straightened up triumphantly and said "All plear, mummy".
I don't think she liked that routine.
At one stage, I returned to the workforce as an invoice clerk, at Boots'
the chemists' main office. The lass at the next desk to mine was
Scottish and highly strung. One day, during the "telegraph pole" bomb
era, every time we heard a bang, she would jump up, shout out and wave
her hands around, which never failed to send papers flying in all
directions. Everyone would start picking them up for her, but after
this had happened a few times, the other staff members began to see the
funny side of her reactions and would start laughing as they gathered the
documents off the floor. It got to a stage where, as soon as she jumped
up and began shouting and waving, we would start laughing. I am sure
that if Hitler had seen us all kneeling or sitting on the floor in a
flurry of paperwork laughing so
madly, he would have realised that, in spite of all the bombing and
shortages, we still had our sense of humour.
I can also remember how people took it in turn, during breaks in the
raids, to go and make coffee and sandwiches to share among all those in
the shelters and the camaraderie among people who might have been total
strangers was wonderful. It's such a pity that people can't be as kind
as that to one another today.
Because some friends of ours were migrating to Australia, we became
interested as well. Every Monday we used to go to Australia House in
the Strand to get current pamphlets and newspapers and to get any other
information we could about life in Australia. We sailed just before
Christmas 1949 and I can remember how upset my parents were at our
departure. Later, they came over, but my mother couldn't stand the heat
and her doctor advised her to return to England. Sadly, that was the
last I saw of my parents.
I will never forget our six weeks on that lovely boat coming out to
Australia though. Rationing was still very much in force in England
and to see the lovely meat and egg dishes that we received with plenty of
beautiful white bread and lots of colorful fruits was like a dream to
us. When we berthed at Fremantle there was a train strike, so everyone
tumbled into a little train like Victoria's Puffing Billy to go to Perth
for a few hours. Our first malted milks were unbelievable. All that
creamy milk. They cost sixpence each and came in giant steel
containers, filled to the brim with this glorious concoction. It was
the greatest drink we had ever tasted. Nowadays, I wonder where those
type of malted drinks have gone