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Don McDouall was evacuated from London during World War II when he was five years old. He was sent to the small country village of East Hanney to live with Grans and Grampy at a house called Tamarisk. When the war ended nobody came to take him home and he was sent to a children's home. When the children's home closed he was given the choice of returning to Tamarisk or to live in another home, he chose Tamarisk. He now lives in Australia.
Those last few weeks of my life in England before emigrating alternated between happiness and utter despair. At work it was usually too wet to plough or to do anything outside with a tractor. I think we spent a lot of time draining. This entailed prodding the ground with a steel rod to find the drains!
I visited Mrs Short, who had been my teacher at the end of my education at Hanney School. Mrs Short was a very good teacher, very strict but very fair. The only time I fell foul of her was during singing lessons. I hated singing but we all had to sing and she would come up near you to listen, making sure you were singing and not just opening and shutting your mouth!
Mrs Short loved reading to us kids and I loved listening to her. Every Friday afternoon she would read some of 'The thirtynine steps' or 'David Copperfield' and just before Christmas she always read 'A Christmas Carol'.
She taught the boys 'Chip carving'. We made carved pot stands from real pieces of soft woods with a fancy pattern carved or 'chipped' onto the surface. When finished Mrs Short would put the finished article under a box with a saucer of Ammonia inside. Come Monday morning the white or yellow timber would have darkened to a deep rich brown.
That day my old teacher greeted me most cordially. I explained to her I needed a character reference. She offered me a cup of tea and as I sat with this old lady, she asked me if I was sure that going abroad was what I really wanted. I confided in her and told her of my fears and she told me off and told me I was running away.
I was angry at the time but later realised she was so right. Her last words ever to me were 'If you go you will never come back, you know that don't you?' I got the reference about a week later. It was a glowing report, I didn't recognise myself but I don't ever remember using it!
The New Years Eve of 1951 came. It had been very cold since Christmas and New Years Eve was no exception. It was one of those bitingly cold foggy days. I had been staying at my girlfriend Marion's place most days returning to East Hanney only at night.
I went and watched football that Sunday in the morning over at West Hanney. It was so foggy that the goalkeeper and one player seemed to be the only players on the field! We hardly saw the ball that day let alone the players.
1952 came with a rush. I spent that New Years Eve with all my friends at the Depot, in Steventon. It turned out to be a wonderful party. They played the music that we all knew, dances anyone could do young or old. 'Knees up mother Brown', 'Hokey Cokey', 'The Lambeth Walk' and the 'Pallay Glide'!
The roof nearly lifted off as everybody chorused 'Horsey, Horsey don't you stop, just let your feet go cliperty clop' and when everybody stamped their feet on the floor the whole building shook!
Slowly that wonderful evening drifted into the past. I stood in that hut listening to the saxophone playing 'Goodnight Sweetheart'. I somehow knew then that I would never see the Depot again, not even if I came back in the promised two years time.
I knew it wouldn't be there. Once I left it would be gone. It belonged to another era and time was fast running out for it and for me.
Don McDouall, Australia, 2001
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