Ambulance Girl meets Sir Claverton

October 1940


Saturday 19th Oct. 1940 Denbigh

Have orders from Welsh Valleys to take down pictures and put away breakables and remove Nervous Nellie. She must think the silly thing is valuable. I'll be happy to see it go. Won't have to listen to it rattling anymore.
Pickering brought prezzies over: chocolates, two packets of Gold Flake smokos and silk stockings. Silk stockings won't do me much good with all this dressing on my leg. Will save for special occasion and keep liquid stockings for now.
He is doing a painting for Perkin's Christmas bazaar. Didn't know Pickering painted but he seems very involved, working on it every spare moment. I can't wait to see. Perkins is very busy with bazaar. She's had many donations and offers of crafts. Hutch has offered a promise to strip an engine but Perkins turned her down saying it’s not the sort of thing people want to buy at a Christmas bazaars. How does Perkins know? I volunteered to man the Stn 44 table. Couldn't think of anything else.

Sunday 20 Oct ’40 Denbigh

Westminster Panto people want me to come along for auditions tomorrow. Leg still hurts but I think I shall go.

Monday 21st Oct Denbigh

Panto people have asked me to try for role of Prince Charming! Fancy that. Me as Prince Charming. Panto will be at Comedy Theatre Jan 1 - 11 except 5.
Later
Found a little orphan today crawling up the pavement on Claverton Street. Thought it was a wounded cat at first but when I got closer, I realised it was a tortoise. Wasn't sure what to do so I picked him up. Seemed happy enough. I knocked on a few doors and asked if people knew him but no one did. One man said he came with the "vermin" from the East End. I didn't knock at any more doors.
Perkins came home and told me to get rid of it immediately. She won't have a tortoise in the house, but I’m not doing that. How could I turn the poor thing out in the middle of a war? What if he was bombed out? He needs a home, a place to live. I found a box and made a little bed for him. He's in the basement. Tomorrow I shall find out what tortoises like to eat.

Tuesday 22 Oct 1940, Dolphin Square

Back at work! Leg sore but it would be sore at home too. Now at least, I’m useful. Perkins is back too. Her face is healing nicely. She seems cheerful enough, but we haven't had much to say to one another.
Rankin said to feed Sir Claverton carrots and greens. His brother has a tortoise.
Later
Sometimes I hate Perkins. I asked if Pickering's sister and family could stay in her mother’s house until they find other accommodation. They were bombed out two nights ago in West Ham and now they’re staying in Pickering's bed-sit but it's crowded, too small for children. The list for new housing is so long and Council isn't making any promises. Perkins gave a flat no. Won't have Quaker Conchies under her roof.
She's insisting I take out advert in newspaper for Sir Claverton.

Wednesday 25th Oct, 1940 Stn 44

High explosives came down on Vincent Square, near infants hospital. Took two casualties to Westminster, one a woman with piece of shrapnel lodged in her abdomen. Bleeding horribly, screaming like a lunatic. Holding a baby in her arms when she was rescued. Perkins covered up the woman's guts with her tin hat and rode in the back of DXP holding the baby. Driving conditions were horrendous, with bombs down all over, burning in the middle of the road in spots not flooded by broken water mains. Took detour after detour. Thought we'd never reach hospital. When we arrived the woman was as good as gone; baby howling. We left the mother with the duty sister and took the baby to the rest centre and left it’s details. Poor child will never see mother again. What will become of it? On the way home, Perkin's had tears in her eyes. Didn’t think she could.

Thursday 26th Oct 1940

World is grey and dull. Faces are pale and eyes sinking into dark sockets. People trudge along with heads down, stepping over heaps of glass, debris and rubbish spread over the pavements. They walk by bomb sites, wrecked homes with ugly smoking holes and don’t even notice. It's normal now. How can this be normal? But it is.

The other day I saw a family of pasty people sitting on deck chairs in front of a burned out wreck that used to be their house. They were like ghosts, sitting there stupidly in front of the bombsite that used to be their house. It’s as if no one bothered to tell them! They go back to rest centres to sleep and then return again the next morning because they don't know what else to do. I wanted to run up and shout at them, shake them back to life, make them see that their home has been destroyed and they have to start over. You can't live your life in an old heap of ash and debris.
Why doesn't anyone tell them? Why do people act as though it isn't happening?