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After the winter of 1940/41 a German invasion seemed unlikely and so it was a big surprise when Worthing schools were ordered to leave their premises under the Schools Evacuation Scheme.
Lionel Burns, born in 1923, was a boy at one of these schools, and tells us his story...
In mid-March 1941 I was moved to Newark. Owing to the presence of a military objective we were not lodged in the town, but spread around villages such as Farndon, Balderton and Collingham, within bus/train distance of school.
I was with a Mr and Mrs Watson in a bungalow named 'Craven' in Farndon Road.
As the summer term drew to a close and with the Germans deeply involved in Russia, there was a general drift of people back to Worthing. Most went by train under supervision of school staff, but those of 5th/6th form age could, with written permission from parents, make the journey on their own.
All that was needed was a good bike, basic items for one overnight stop and a bit of determination. Route planning was simple - follow the Great North Road (A1) to London, find a bed and breakfast and carry on South the next day.
As a wartime security measure, signposts had been removed over much of the country but this was no problem on a straight ride to London. There were just a few direction boards on the outskirts of towns says 'South' etc, without place names, mainly to help army drivers.
I left the bungalow a little before 8 am on 1st August, riding up Farndon Road then Boundary Road, past the school playing field and down Bowbridge Road and by a straight street of terraced houses to join the main road at Balderton.
The road was dry and the weather overcast and mild, just right for cycling. Past Balderton airfield the road straightened a bit and made for the well-named village of Long Bennington.
One has to remember there were almost no bypasses, the main road going through each town and nearly every village in its path. The Long Bennington bypass was not made until about 1966.
Having said that, the next village, Foston, was an exception, seemingly bypassed just pre-war, probably because of the sharp right-angled turn in the village centre. I too bypassed it, but evidence of the old main road lay in the double posts.
Next came quite a stiff climb up to Great Gonerby, then an easy run into Grantham, reached after passing under the main East Coast King's Cross to Edinburgh line.
To those who grew up with green electric trains, the sight of a blue A4 Nigel Gresley steam engine, taking a massive train of LNER carriages through long, straight stretches of open country, at seldom less than 100 mph, was an event not to be forgotten.
Leaving Grantham I had not gone far before it began to rain and I don't remember much of Colsterworth. By now the drizzle was getting thicker and wetter, and so was I as I rode along the very straight, open, and rather bleak road with Stamford nearly 20 miles away.
I left all the rain on the approach to Stamford and dried off as I went through its attractive main street, over the River Welland and past the George with its ornate sign spanning the road before climbing a bit uphill past one of the gates of Burghley Park.
By now it was about 11.20 am and another hour and a half of easy going should bring me to Norman Cross to have a lunch break. About noon I met a green bus going the other way, almost certainly to Stamford. Seeing this added to my feeling that by now I was getting somewhere.
Further on and stretching out on the left was some form of aerial ropeway with a line of containers slung along below it. It may have been to do with the big brick pits west of Peterborough.
At about 12.45 I reached Norman Cross, had a simple packed lunch and went into the inn. The landlord didn't object to me eating it there as I was buying a drink anyway. Thinking back, I was probably guilty of under-age drinking although my 17¾ years could have passed for 19.
I did not linger, but was soon on a straight and fairly level section of road to an important fork at Alconbury Hill where there is a most unusual milestone 8 miles south of Norman Cross. The left fork goes to Huntingdon and my road was the other, down through Alconbury Weston.
From Brampton, past Buckden, and on towards St. Neots, the road was winding quite a bit as it coped with the clay subsoil of Bedfordshire.
After Eaton Socon and somewhere between Syboston and Tempsford, I met an AA patrolman by the roadside with a motorbike and yellow sidecar. I think he had been guiding army traffic at the Bedford turn-off.
I told him I was going to Biggleswade and onto London. He said, 'Follow the double posts', pointing to the telegraph poles alongside the road. It was not until after the war that the lines were put underground.
Until then the massive array of wires from London to Edinburgh were carried on pairs of poles braced together by metal frames. They were very distinctive and by following them it was impossible to wander off track. I believe there was a similar 'army' of double posts on the A6.
So past Sandy (named by the local geology) and through Biggleswade without stopping and straight onto Baldock, with the road zigzagging through the town centre and then past the wide market area on the right hand side, climbing slightly uphill.
It was time for tea and after the right turn by the Astonia Cinema and up out of the town, I sat on a grassy area just off the road and had the rest of the food Mrs Watson had given me. Houses now cover that spot.
Then down to Graveley and Stevenage. Knebworth, Woolmer Green and Welwyn followed, and on through Hatfield pausing somewhere for a fizzy lemon drink to celebrate the 100-mile mark before Hatfield.
Brookmans Park and the appearance of a London transport bus made me feel London might be just down the road; it was actually 15 to 20 miles away.
Potters Bar led on to Bentley Heath and past Wrotham Park, over Hadley Green and to Barnet. Little did I know that one day I would live there and teach at the Queen Elizabeth School.
From now on I was watching for a suitable B&B to stop for the night, but Barnet did not seem a likely place.
I freewheeled down the long, straight Barnet Hill somewhere around 7.30. Then along to the 'Tally-ho' at North Finchley where the road forks and a decision must be made - I chose the right branch.
About ¼ mile after the 'Tally-ho' there was a large house on the right-hand side of Ballards Lane, number 267, behind which seemed a kind of service road and with a B&B notice.
It was a while after 8 pm and with nearly 120 miles behind me, in I went. The man showed me round and locking up my bike in the back garden I asked him if they had had any bombs. He said not for ages.
I had a light meal, slept well, got up soon after 6 am and at breakfast one of the others told me how to get on the road for Kew. How vividly a piece of music can awaken the memory of an isolated moment. At breakfast the tune 'Valencia' came on the wireless.
I paid the bill (8/- or 40p) and was on the road, Ballards Lane running into Regents Park Road and turning right onto the North Circular for an easy ride down to Hanger Lane. Then up hill and down past the end of Woodville Gardens, along to the Chiswick roundabout and Kew Bridge.
Then Kew Green and the long road beside the gardens, past 'Normandy', opposite the Lion Gate and once my grandparents' home, and into Richmond.
In the main street, George Street, I stopped and went into a Joe Lyons teashop for a milkshake. On again by Petersham Road and by Ham Common, soon passing the massive Hawker Aircraft Factory where the 'Hurricanes' were built, and into Kingston.
Straight through and onto Tolworth, crossing the Kingston bypass for the road to Epsom where I made a mid-morning visit to my aunt and uncle, had lunch with them and left about 3 pm.
As for the run down from Epsom to Worthing, it was simply the A24, using the bypasses for Leatherhead, Mickleham and Dorking, all made a year or two pre-war, but not the later ones; Capel, Horsham, etc. had to be ridden through.
At Washington I was stopped by a policeman and asked to show my identity card, as wartime security restricted entry to the coastal belt without satisfactory reason. I explained that I lived in Worthing and was on my way home from Newark in Nottinghamshire. If he thought I was mad, he didn't say so!
So up the Bostal and then it was downhill for the last few miles, 41 from Epsom as I turned from Nutbourne Road into Bulkington Avenue at 7.30. A great ride and a memorable adventure.
Lionel Burns, Steyning, West Sussex, 2001
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