Memories Of My Dad John Wilson

A Memory of Shenfield.

My Dad wrote of his time at Hutton Residential School. This is what he wrote:

September 1939 - January 1949
I was evacuated in September and on my arrival at Block 2, I nearly had my head knocked off by my cousin, Joey, with a cricket bat. I saw him playing and went haring out to speak to him just as he was hitting out a delivery. During my three and a half years there I learnt a lot and we had some exciting times. The ones I remember most were our swimming lessons. I had never been allowed into a swimming pool before and the first time we went we had to get ready those who could swim had to race across the pool, last one out was suppose to go back to the class room, then those who could not swim were to wade across and again the last out to go back to school. As I was one of the taller ones I was nearly half way down the pool and as we were wading across I slipped and went into a hypoglaecemic coma. At first they thought I was lying when I told them that I had never been in the water before because I was doing somersaults, cartwheels, etc in the water and it was only when I reached the side they realised I was unwell! After that I was never allowed in the pool again and all the other diabetics had an extra slice of bread on swimming days, both boys and girls.
The girls and also boys up to seven years old were in Block 1 and boys seven to seventeen in Block 2. Each week we had a job allocated to us such as scrubbing the corridors and washrooms, polishing the dormitory floors, also the playroom and dining room floors and stairs, washing up, laying tables and the best job of all, buttering the bread. Each slice was the weight of two pennies in old money, some with makeweights trimmed from those too heavy, the ‘butter’ consisted of two thirds margarine and one third butter mixed together in a bowl. When the Sister in charge of weighing the slices was not looking, we pinched the makeweights to eat on the way to school or to feed to the pet rabbits.
When you had done all the jobs on the list (a week at a time) you had a week off. As ‘Townies’ we did not know why certain rules were made but we learnt! Our first Autumn/Winter we use to go out in the blackout and help ourselves to apples stored in a shed on the floor.
In our free time, after school and chores, we investigated the woods and surroundings. The school buildings were in a large circle with the Headmasters house, Blocks A-G and the Assembly/Dining Hall on one side, Blocks 1 – 10 opposite, Store, Training Block for Girls (training to go into service) at one end, Woodwork, Gym, Swimming Pool, Laundry, Engineers across the middle and the Infirmary and Staff Quarters at the other end near the big woods.
The Training Block girls were somewhat spiteful. When we all played ‘kiss chase’ when they caught one of us lads, after kissing that used to throw us in the bed of stinging nettles.
I also learnt that daffodils did not grow wild as Charlie Lewis and I picked some to send to our Mums and were caught by the school caretaker who took us to the Headmaster who gave us both six of the best, we never picked daffodils again.
One night, because of an air raid, we were all sleeping in the corridor down stairs, five to a mattress, lying across the mattress. A bomb took away the bathroom guttering and landing outside the kitchen (one of a stick dropped across the school) and we had to run up to Blocks 9 and 10 (the babies blocks) carrying our mattresses, pillow, blankets, etc. The bomb turned out to be a dud!
On some nights we slept in the air raid shelter with a blanket between you and the concrete floor, not too bad on the smooth part of the floor but not so comfortable on the ridged part.
Going to Mass on a Sunday, taking Johnny Russell with me on the two and a half mile walk to Brentwood Cathedral, as we weren’t allowed to travel by city coach, they being reserved for adult war workers. Then having to going back one Sunday afternoon because Johnny Russell had left his gasmask somewhere.
Selling newspapers, star, news and standard, on the platforms of Shenfield Station. The expeditions to find the best orchards around and us mere Townies! The allotments at the back of the shelters where we grew fresh veg for the table and me growing a really good cabbage which I was going to give to my Dad on his next visit to take home to Mum, and walking into the kitchen and recognising my cabbage, cut and waiting to be used by the staff. Leslie Randall’s Dad used to pick, cut and bring in the veg for the table. I cried my eyes out; don’t know why ‘cos I did not like cabbage!!
The very occasional visits from my Dad (he also had to visit my Mum, Sister and Brothers in Oxford) when he used to bring a large piece of angel cake, and after taking me to the pictures and seeing me on to the bus home, I would go back for a piece of angel cake, cut and weighed b y the Sister, the staff had most of it and I had more friends on that day than I could handle, I wonder why!!


i would love to hear from anyone who has memories from this time and maybe knew my dad.