When we moved from Cornwall to be closer to our mothers job in London in 1941 (the second year of the war) my sister and I decided to take our bikes. Since there wasn’t enough room in our mothers car we thought we’d just ride the bikes the couple of hundred miles to our next destination in Bristol, near London. There was little traffic (petrol was tightly rationed) and because of the blackout roads were well marked for night driving.
We had used our bikes frequently for shopping, hunting rabbits and getting around locally but the bikes were old the gearing was primitive so hills—even modest ones became a chore.
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| My sister Marjorie-Ann, was 15 and I was 12 when we did our two week bike trip from Cornwall to London in 1942. |
Our mother had arranged for us to stop off at various friends houses along our route—of which we took full advantage. My sister had a knack for making herself look presentable no matter what the circumstances. With fuel so short motorists felt obliged to give anyone a lift that needed one. We were hampered by the two bikes but even so did occasionally get picked up by a van or truck.
Riding though Devon we heard the unmistakable rattle and roar of an old fashioned steam roller behind us so I stuck out my hitch hiking thumb and to my great surprise the ponderous machine stopped in the middle of the road across from us.“Want a ride, lad?”the driver bellowed down at me “Well hop up” it turned out I was ‘expected to work my passage’. The machine had no brakes so that whenever we got to a hill (which were frequent in Devon) my job was to scramble down, and put two wooden chocks under the drive wheels so the machine didn’t roll backwards and crush the driver while he was changing to a lower gear. I was only 12 at the time and remember the pair of cast iron drive wheels being taller than I was.
Riding though Devon we heard the unmistakable rattle and roar of an old fashioned steam roller behind us so I stuck out my hitch hiking thumb and to my great surprise the ponderous machine stopped in the middle of the road across from us.“Want a ride, lad?”the driver bellowed down at me “Well hop up” it turned out I was ‘expected to work my passage’. The machine had no brakes so that whenever we got to a hill (which were frequent in Devon) my job was to scramble down, and put two wooden chocks under the drive wheels so the machine didn’t roll backwards and crush the driver while he was changing to a lower gear. I was only 12 at the time and remember the pair of cast iron drive wheels being taller than I was.
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| I had to get out and put wooden blocks to hold the steam roller from rolling away while the driver changed gears. |
We had left my sister beside the road with the two bicycles to push up the hill behind the steam roller—which didn’t please her. So when we finally arrived at the top of the next hill we thanked the driver and took off. We could hear the machine growling along behind us for the next half dozen miles.
The road ended in a steep gorge and a local landmark known as King Harry’s ferry. Altho’ it was less than a ten minute trip the ferryman was disinclined to make it for two bicycles and a couple of bedraggled teens. So we waited patiently until a vehicle appeared and then wheeled our bikes onto the ferry. The vehicle turned out to be a slow moving hay wagon with a load of fresh cut hay. We were able to grab it as it went by and get a ride up and out of that river valley.
Our next stop was the home of the Bliss family. Arthur and Trudy Bliss lived in a modern house at the end of a long beautifully landscaped driveway. Arthur Bliss was s composer and had been named Master of the Queens music—an honorary but prestigious title. They left us the run of their house plus three local staff who washed our scant laundry, fed us and even made us a lunch for the next day.
I noticed the blond dining table with a strip of aluminum inlaid around the edge. 40 years later I used the same detail on a large mahogany table with bronze inlay.
We set off the next morning but by the evening we were close enough to London to see the search lights criss crossing the sky looking for enemy aircraft. When they found one all the lights converged on it forming a cone of light with the plane trapped at its apex.
I noticed the blond dining table with a strip of aluminum inlaid around the edge. 40 years later I used the same detail on a large mahogany table with bronze inlay.
We set off the next morning but by the evening we were close enough to London to see the search lights criss crossing the sky looking for enemy aircraft. When they found one all the lights converged on it forming a cone of light with the plane trapped at its apex.
We eventually found the village of Sawbridgeworth where we were to camp out that spend that night. There were no lights because of the blackout and all All the street signs had been taken down or painted out. So it was well after midnight before we finally found Van Torts cottage. We set about finding matches, candles, bedding and the other things we needed for the night Before turning in we stood in the cottage doorway and saw the night sky glowing with light from the burning city. We had indeed arrived.
Simon Watts
Jan. 14, 2019
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