My family moved to The St Helier Estate in 1937 from Brixton, South London wrote Ray Crawley. I was four years old and can remember a few moments of travelling to our new home.

We were a family of eight, the youngest being born in the new home a couple of years later. We were three boys and three girls educated at The Holy Family Secondary School, Morden, the school being unusual in that we started in the nursery and went through class after class until departing in the seniors!

I spent my young days on the estate during the Second World War, except for the period that I was evacuated, and did not leave until I was in my early thirties. Obviously the place and the times I lived there had some effect on me and as one becomes older you feel that you want to write about the people that were there and the experiences you had.

The picture is from 1950. It was sent to me along with those on other pages while I was serving in the army in Malaya in 1952-1954. As youngsters we were always hanging about around the shops. At one small sweetshop we would climb over the back, take some old lemonade bottles, then go into the shop to collect 2d on each empty!

This was an old trick but the poor old dear in the shop never tumbled it. Too late to make amends now.

During the war, after an air raid we would go over Rosehill Park as soon as we could to salvage any shrapnel from the shells fired by the ack ack batteries that were over there. Some of it would still be very hot, and we became quite expert at knowing what type of shell it came from.

I can remember vividly the very first air raid that our street experienced, I'm not sure of the year, either 1939 or 1940. We were playing in the street, me and my mate Frankie Ellens. I remember I had a toy drum and I was 6 years old.

Suddenly we saw the aircraft coming over from the direction of Croydon and they were in what we thought was British formation in threes. So we started to wave, although they were very high!

All of a sudden the sirens started and we were called in quick to take shelter in the coal cupboard! I don't recall what happened after that, but the Blitz became an every day occurrence that we lived with. We got so used to hearing the sirens that we could tell which ones they were! They would usually begin from the direction of London, so we would hear Streatham, Mitcham, Wimbledon, Morden and finally the one at Rosehill.

After one raid we found that a toy shop had been bombed or rather it had received a blast from the bomb that fell nearby. It was along the parade of shops that can be seen in the photo. The shop was wide open with toys everywhere!

We were all grabbing toys as fast as we could. I got a tea chest and filled it up. Suddenly the police arrived. My box was so heavy I couldn't move it! All I had was a small box of tacks! Serves me right.

On another raid, a sweet shop was bombed, and we swarmed over it like locusts! Now there were very little sweets around in those days so when we saw bars and bars of chocolate we just grabbed handfuls and ran over the park to make ourselves sick. Then we discovered that all the bars were dummy bars made of cardboard!

From the back of our house in St Benet's Grove, we could see both the Gaumont Cinema and The Rose Public House. Both played a large part in my growing up on the estate.

The Sutton Creameries had their yard at the back of the shops on the right, and when I was thirteen, I used to help our local milkman whose name was George to deliver the milk. At that time we used to have a push trolley that had one small wheel in the front with two large ones at the back, just like the one shown below.

These were solid wheels so you can imagine how hard it was to push when loaded with milk crates! About a year later in 1947 we had electric milk floats! These were smashing because they allowed you to walk in front, driving the float behind.

It was against the law for the lads to drive the floats, but George was alright and in the back streets he would let me drive. What I would do was to stand on the float behind the handle and drive it that way to save walking! That was a bad winter in '47 so we had to pull the milk on a sledge, great fun but hard work!

Just after the war, barrow boys started to appear along the main road that can be seen between the shops. The shopkeepers didn't like the idea, especially the greengrocers, as most of the barrows carried the same produce, but of course cheaper! The police would be called to move them on or book them, but the barrow boys were wise to them coming so they would push their barrows across to the other side of the road which came under Mitcham police, which meant that the Sutton police couldn't touch them! Eventually everyone gave up and the barrows are still there today!

When I was seventeen, I worked at a butcher's shop about halfway along the right hand parade of shops; it's not there now; it was called Gunner's. At that time meat rationing was still in force so it was a big help to my mother as the guv, as he was called, gave all the staff some meat every Friday! It wasn't much, a couple of chops for example, but it was very welcome.

At Christmas, we had to truss hundreds of chickens and turkeys. I remember the day before my first Christmas Eve at the shop. The guv had told me to come in early as it was going to be our busiest day. I was looking forward to it as we had a staff box on the counter and money was short.

So I was up and getting ready to leave at 7 am, when there was a hammering at our front door. It was Steve and Fred from the shop.

'Come on,' they said, 'where have you been? We've been on the go since 5 o/clock!'

When we arrived at the shop, it was all lit up with the window dressed with turkeys etc. I can still remember that sight: it was still dark except for our shop; it really was a seasonal picture. That evening I recall the guv took me and Fred over to The Rose for a Christmas drink: I had my first whiskey and it was my first visit to a pub!

Afterwards, I bought lots of fruit to take home for my mum! As we all reflect on the bygone days we often say, 'They were the good times,' and of course they were for us, and for today's youngsters it's today they will look back on, and say exactly the same!

Photo circa 1950


A milk float from the thirties and forties.