Colerne in The Second World War

My parents and I came to Colerne in late 1939, having left London shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War, and lived at Ford, a few miles from Colerne, for a few months. That winter, of 1939-40, was a hard one, as I remember. My father worked for a building contractor on the airfield at Colerne, and I remember him coming home one day with a piece of telephone wire coated about an inch thick with ice.
Our rented house at Colerne was in Watergates, just across the road from the school playground. After a few months there, we moved to lodgings in a large house called 'Elmsleigh', owned by an elderly lady, Mrs Froude, and her daughter, just off the market place. Near the house gate was an old elm tree, known as the 'cross tree', surrounded by large stone slabs and blocks. No doubt the tree is long gone, probably replaced by another, but I imagine the stones are still there.

I remember one day I was sitting under the cross tree when a man on a bicycle came by, and said, "You're Mrs Bunting's boy, aren't you?" "Yes", I said. "Can you sing?" he asked. "Don't know", I replied. "Can you read?", he enquired. I felt a bit indignant at this: after all, I was nearly ten years old, and this chap was asking me if I could read! He was the church organist and choir-master, Ted Johnson, and I soon became a member of the choir.
More to follow in due course.                                                               
The church organ at that time had a hand-pumped bellows, worked by a large wooden lever at the back of the organ casing. I think this job was usually done by a choir boy, and if you let the air pressure get too low the organ would of course stop, with a despairing squeak, and you'd be in trouble! I imagine this has now been replaced by an electric pump.
I see Colerne now has a new school, and the old one near the church has been converted for other uses. When I went to school there in 1940, the headmaster was a Mr Bedford, a rather portly gentleman. I remember him well, but can't recall any other teachers: I had the impression that he was virtually running the school single-handed.
One strong memory I have of the school is a playground singing game which was popular with the girls there. I wonder if any of today's pupils at the new school still know it:
                   "The wind, the wind, the wind blows high,
                    The rain comes pattering down the sky.
                    He is handsome, she is pretty,
                    She is the girl from the Golden City.
                    She comes down, to one, two, three,
                    Can you tell me, who is she?
                    Johnny Bunting says he loves her,
                    All the boys are waiting for her.
                    She comes down in a lily-white gown,
                    To be Mrs Bunting's daughter".

Of course any boy's name could be put in the song, sometimes much to the embarassment of the boy in question.  I'm sure there must be many variations of this song, in different parts of the country.