House and home lost in the Blitz.

Photo:Picture research by Thomas Wills

Picture research by Thomas Wills

Image provided by Devon Library and Information Services (source unknown)

An unexpected move to Alphington
By Geoff Mitchell

On the Saturday before the Blitz we went to a fete in Alphington. It was a marvellous day, blue sky. My mother was in a cycle touring club and we went to see some cyclist friends of hers there, and their son Philip. There was a horse ride. I'd never been on a horse. To my disappointment it was Philip who was to ride first.  He got up but the horse became a mule and wouldn't budge.  The man threw a bucket of water over it and off it went, with Philip clinging on for dear life.  He was alright but that was the end of the horse rides so number two in line, me, didn't get a go at all.

I was in church when the house was bombed

Our house was in Sidwell Street, right opposite St Sidwell's Church. I was in that church when the house was bombed on 4 May. Our house was three storeys. The front stayed up for a while. Then I watched it come down. It was the middle of the night. The shower of sparks went up into the heavens and I watched it rise and rise into a black sky. I watched it with my grandfather. At least nobody was killed, except my cat. I've never forgotten that.

We didn't have anywhere to live

There was no school next Monday morning. We didn't have anywhere to live, so we lived with my mother's cycling friends in turn. Anybody who'd put us up. The first place was Alphington. We went to those same friends. Philip, their son, was a year younger than me so I went to school with him.

Alphington was a village then. The house where I lived was 17 Devonia Terrace. It's renamed now as Church Road, the whole lot. It was definitely a village. In 1966 the Rector of Alphington flew the flag at half-mast for the death of Alphington when it came into Exeter. Behind Devonia Terrace was fields, all fields. At the end was a pile of builders' sand that we used to play in. It's now Marsh Barton trading estate.

We got used to it.

We finished up in a requisitioned house, one that the council had requisitioned for homeless families, in another part of the city. Children are very adaptable. We got used to it.

Later we learned to smoke in Alphington.  We used to picnic on the fields. It was pasture. When it rains, which it always does on a picnic, there were handy railway arches where you could go and shelter. That was the railway that went to Ide. It's all gone now. The bus used to get as far as the cattle market then it was a walk from the Marsh Barton entrance to Alphington. It was a trip to the country.

-Return to Philip Miller's memories

This page was added by Sarah, Curator of West Exe on 16/10/2007.

Comments/reviews:

I loved this story and found the bit about Alphington merging into Exeter very touching. I always make sure I write Alphington before Exeter in all correspondence and I always call it Alphington Village. If Alphington remains a village in our hearts no one can ever take that away.

By Rowena Jay
On 16/11/2007

I lived in Cross View and I know what you mean about the fields at Marsh Barton. There were two bomb craters a couple of fields away that had filled with water and we used to fish in them.

By Doug Lake
On 17/01/2008

I am the Philip in Geoff Mitchell's account. I remember that day so well. I had just started riding lessons at Cowley's (I think that was the name) The Pony was called Sunshine. The Riding School was just behind Mandrake in Mill Lane. The stables ceased to exist that night as a result of the blitz.

I recall the morning after Geoff was bombed out. I was getting ready for school and looking out at all the people walking along what is now Church Road. They were carrying just what they could salvage, like refugees from any war. I suddenly spotted Geoff and his mum. They were still in their night clothes carrying a few belongings ... what a night they must have had.
Geoff and I were very close as children in fact his parents were known to me as Uncle Jack and Auntie Marg. Just as Geoff says, the next day, he came to school with me; no way did Hitler disrupt our school life. Geoff and his mum stayed with us for a while until they were re-housed.
I haven't seen Geoff for 50 years or more.

By Philip Miller
On 20/10/2008

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