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Keeper of the Scrolls


2010 Posts
Posted -  03/06/2004  :  00:11
Coincidences, Cobblestones & Clogs
By Kathleen Morgan


"Write Your Life Story" screamed the Essex University Centre for Lifelong Learning brochure. 10 weeks starting October 2002. From my Life's beginning in Coventry in 1938, through 28 years wandering around the African Continent as a radio journalist there was certainly enough material for a Life Story. I just needed to learn how to make those anecdotes interesting enough to read. The continuous engaged signal on the phone didn't bode well for booking one of the available 14 places, however. One last-ditch attempt reached a surprised and delighted secretary.

"What a coincidence! That course was booked up a while ago but I was just on the phone to a man cancelling his place on it. Apparently, after receiving all the information, he decided it wasn't what he wanted. I'll be happy to take down your particulars."

On the first day, our tutor gave us a list of 20 books recommended to illustrate how various authors had written on their lives. When pressed for what she considered essential, 4 remained. I'd read and enjoyed Frank McCourt and Laurie Lee. Lorna Sage and Blake Morrison, however, were unknown and unread.

Also on the first day, we were given a writing exercise in which we had to try and remember a noise that was associated with our childhood; something that would conjure up an image or experience strong enough to write about. Too many choices: air raid sirens - plenty of those in the bomb bedevilled Coventry; "all clear" klaxons or the Westminster chimes from the 'Grandmother' clock on the wall. Sitting amongst 13 other frantic scribblers, a long forgotten memory began to unfold. Out of some dark recess of my mind came the unmistakable sound of clattering clogs on cobbled stones. Rain-washed stones on a steep street and a kind boy leading me by the hand. An old lady dressed in black rocking, rocking, rocking all day in a squeaky chair: Mrs. Moon.

Over the years people had mocked when I recall snap shots of my evacuation.

"Mrs. Moon!" 'Trust you! Anybody else would have been with someone called Brown or Smith. Not you, though, Mrs. Moon indeed!"

Family gatherings had confirmed the evacuation and the place: Earby. My great grandmother had taken me there, by train, when and how long for remain a mystery and there's no one left to ask.

At home, that night, my husband Chris asked to see the recommended reading list then proceeded to order the books via his favourite shopping channel, Amazon. A couple of days later when the parcel of books arrived, I think it's fair to say he was as amazed as I when I opened Blake Morrison's "And when did you last see your father?" and saw that the father in question had been a G.P. in Earby!

By now, I was excited. This was just too much of a coincidence. Chris obviously thought so, too, for a few hours later we were looking at the Earby web site. An email to Bob Abel requested help in finding someone who might be able to help answer some questions about my time as an evacuee.

Bob's reply wisely advised me to contact Squire Firth who had been doing some articles on other evacuees for the Earby and District Local History Society's Newsletter. Can you imagine my joy when I also read: "Squire will be pleased to hear from you as he remembers a family called Moon!" Doubters and mockers eat your heart out!

In November 2002 Squire and I had a lovely chat on the phone and I promised one day I would return to Earby and try and recapture a little of my childhood. Over the next 9 months my mother's descent of vascular dementia demanded more and more attention. Then in September, Chris and I needed a break. Mum was in hospital and we decided - at last - to visit Earby. Another call to Squire not only confirmed that he and his lovely wife, Julia, would be available to meet us but Squire went so far as to find us wonderful lodging at the Hare and Hounds in Foulridge.

Thus it was on a rainy Friday, September 26th, Julia and Squire took us on a tour of the breathtaking countryside around Earby and finally to the Town itself. Squire is a fathomless mine of information, describing how things would have looked the last time I was there. Many gently probing questions stretched my poor memory to its limits but everything was unfamiliar. After all, given that I haven't a clue exactly WHEN I was evacuated to Earby it must have been at least 61 years ago!

Our walking continued. Suddenly, so suddenly I stopped.

"What is it" Julia asked, "have you remembered something?"

"I'm not sure. Over there, that could be....."

"The Moon's fish and chip shop used to be there," Squire informed us.

The rain fell harder now as we walked on, round the corner and there it was: the steep hill! Maybe not quite the mountain it had appeared to my childish eyes but at the entrance to Alder Hill Street some of the carefully covered cobblestones are exposed. Across the road was Number 3, where Mrs. Moon used to live. I went to the front door but couldn't knock. I did peer through the letterbox, though!

I have a feeling that there was some family connection between my great grandmother, Eliza Jacques (nee Clark) and Mrs. Moon. Having opened the Earby chapter of my life story, I am impelled to continue. Who knows what I shall find.

Kathleen can be contacted through the EDLHS or leave a reply to this topic.

Extracted from the Earby Chronicles Edition 32 Spring 2004
Author Replies  
rosilee
Regular Member


111 Posts
Posted - 04/06/2004 : 13:13
As an old Earbyer I remember the evacuees coming to Earby and going to school with them.Id be interested to know what Squire Firth(who was at school when I was)has written about the evacucees.Ive lived in Morecambe for many years but visit Earby quite often. Rosilee


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