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    The Diary of the Evacuation to Canada of 
    50 girls from Roedean School 
    
    part two. 
    
      
    
    Siriol Colley 
    neé Lewis
    
     
    
     
    
    At this point apart from an entry at Armistice Day and Christmas the diary 
    finishes.  The idyllic summer in Chester, Nova Scotia came to an end like 
    all things, on the return to school and to normality.  My diary makes little 
    reference to the conditions at home in England and the suffering of my 
    family and my mother in England. We never appreciated while in Canada that we might 
    not return to Britain or see our parents again. It did not enter our heads 
    that we should not win the war nor that the Germans might invade Britain.
    
     
    
    ‘The evacuation to Canada was a difficult time for all concerned.  Parents 
    had to decide very quickly whether they wished their daughter to go overseas 
    and were given little time in which to realise how this enforced separation 
    might affect both themselves and their child.  They were desperate to save 
    their children from the danger and rigor of war, and seized on what was 
    considered to be the best option available at the time.  Almost certainly, 
    they did not realise how impossible communication would become, leaving the 
    children for several years without any reassurance from home.  It was a 
    bleak period in the childhood of many the evacuees.
    
     
    
    However, Roedean girls who were at Edgehill 
    during that time speak of their Canadian hosts with immense gratitude.  Many 
    have remained friends for life and many too, stayed in Canada to continue 
    their education, going on to university there and making their life in the 
    country that had given them so much hospitality at a time when a large part 
    of the world was in turmoil.
    The families of the Canadian girls were 
    very hospitable to the Roedean contingent and invited them to spend holidays 
    with them.’ 
    
     
    
    The rest of the story will have to be taken from the school magazine of 
    Edgehill and a few letters kept by me.  I have only a few recollections of the 
    year at Edgehill. The school coped with the whole contingent except for Pat 
    Hollis who was a little older and went to Dalhousie University to study medicine.  I was billeted in the Annexe of King’s School, the boys School in 
    Windsor and shared a room with Averil and Betty Rogers.  At home in 
    England we were to 
    take O’ levels and we took the equivalent examination in Nova Scotia.  I had 
    planned to study medicine and as the science subjects  were 
    insufficient for this profession at Edgehill I went on to study at Dalhousie 
    where I stayed in the residence for women 
    students, Sheriff Hall.
    
     
    
    There are only a few diary notes before I discontinued: 
    
     
    
    
    Christmas term Edgehill 1940.
    
     
    
    I have been put to sleep with Betty Rogers and Averil Davenport Browne in 
    the top room of King’s House.  Miss Briggs is in charge. Being at this house 
    is much nicer than being over at the school.  There are 18 of us here with 
    Miss Briggs, the Mackenzie’s and the maid. … Jacq and Betty  are over at the 
    main building and don’t like it very much. After about the third week 
    Barbara and I began Chemistry at the K.C.S.. .. I went every day except 
    Wednesday. On Mondays we do lab. work but with no gas laid on in Windsor we 
    had to do experiments with alcohol lamps.  Barbara and I do not get on very 
    well doing them. The water in Windsor is foul – Avon River mud – a red 
    colour. The water is very soft though.
    
     
    
    Just after Armistice which I spent at Mrs Bell’s, the weather became cold.  
    We played hockey against house no 2 in the freezing cold. The wind blew 
    though everything, The next day, we went to school in the cold though it had 
    not snowed in the night. By dinner time the snow was quite thick and the 
    snow flaks were spinning slowly to the ground.  This was November. At half 
    term Dot brought back a small black cat which we called Hekadyse.  It was 
    quite black with a white front. but poor Hekadyse did not stay very long.
    
     
    
    About two weeks after half term Hilda Jones got German Measles Consequently 
    we had to go into quarantine which we enjoyed.  We went skating twice and 
    had plenty of time to revise for exams and we had a week of exams in the 
    house.  I came fifth in the form.
    
     
    
    
    Christmas Holidays
    
    
    Friday 20th  
    
      I am so thankful.  Today we broke up for the Christmas Hols. till the 16th 
    of January.  Betty and Averil left to stay with Miss Laurie at Oakfield. 
    They were to accompany me part of the way but at the last moment went by 
    car.  Pat, thank goodness, met me in Halifax and helped me carry my copious 
    luggage.  Mrs Stanley drove us to Chester. Pat and I watched the sea waves 
    carried on to the ice.
    
     
    
    
    Saturday 21st 
    
    I went down to see the Woodroofes in the morning from Mrs Bell’s.  In the 
    afternoon Pat and I went skating on the rink.
    
     
    
    
    Sunday 22nd
    
    After writing home and my Christmas cards, Pat and I went skating on the 
    lake.  This time it was fine. The ice was perfect, like glass.  I got on 
    quite well and don’t feel so wobbly on skates. We skated the whole 
    afternoon.
    
     
    
    
    Monday 23rd 
    
    This morning I woke to find snow on the ground.  Philip came round and 
    called for me and took me to get a Christmas tree.   We got a perfect one 
    just before someone else came along for the same tree.  This afternoon I 
    went down to Pats' and we went and got presents for the children.  I sent off 
    some Christmas cards and in the evening sat down and wrote my diary after 
    dinner.
    
     
    
    That was the last entry in my diary and so from now on I have to rely on the 
    following entry in the Edgehill Review about the arrival of the 
    Roedean Contingent.
    
      
        
        
          
            
    
     
    
    “The spring term of 1940 had drawn to a close.  Classes were over for 
    another year, most of the staff had departed and the VI and VA were settling 
    down to write examinations.  Terrible events in Europe were following one 
    another in swift succession, but we in Nova Scotia were enjoying perfect 
    summer weather.  Every pool was fringed with blue irises.  The scent of 
    syringa was in the air.  The sea was a deep translucent blue.  The younger 
    ones among us thought only of a long happy summer to come. Even the older 
    ones found it hard to realise what was happening on the other side of the 
    Atlantic.
            
     
    
    Into this atmosphere came a cable from Major Ney 
    asking us to take fifty Roedean girls almost at once.  The cable ended with 
    the words, “Safety first consideration.”  We thought of Roedean on the high 
    white cliffs of England and the German guns less than thirty miles away, and 
    within a quarter of an hour a replv cable was dispatched saying, “Come.”
            
     
    
    On July 5 the party arrived.  All of Windsor was 
    at the station.  Twelve cars had been lent to drive the girls out to the 
    school.  Twice that number arrived.  Everyone was anxious to help and to 
    welcome the weary travellers who had come so far.
            
     
    
    The first few days were spent in getting to know 
    our guests and giving them a chance to know us, and find their way about 
    Edgehill.  Laundry had to be looked after clothes, repacked and money 
    changed and banked.  There had been many summer invitations given.  Some 
    hostesses said that it would be easier to entertain little girls, some asked 
    for older girls.  Some were willing to take two; others could only entertain 
    one, whilst one kind lady actually entertained three.  With the help of Miss 
    Briggs and Miss Marshall [the teachers who came from Roedean with us] the 
    assignments were finally made.  Hostesses were notified and came to fetch 
    their guests.
            
     
    
    The Roedean girls spent fourteen happy weeks on 
    farms and in summer camps. They sailed, they swam, they picnicked and they 
    returned to us in September very brown and very well.
            
     
    
    Meanwhile those in authority planned for the 
    autumn.  We considered Edgehill full, with the Roedean contingent, but we 
    have recently been told by two eminent Canadian headmistresses from Toronto 
    and Montreal that we have such an airy spacious school that they consider 
    Major Ney well advised in asking us to house an extra fifty.  We counted 
    space, what sitting-rooms could be converted into bedrooms, which members of 
    the staff would be willing to share rooms, what rooms were large enough to 
    take extra beds etc.  When all was counted we were still more than twenty 
    spaces short.
            
     
    
    Then came the problem of another house.  The 
    Headmaster of King’s Collegiate School, who has been most tableware, chairs 
    and desks and the buying of what was needed.  ‘King’s’ was practically 
    furnished by our Windsor friends.  We had a ‘shower’ one fine afternoon in 
    early September and all brought what they could spare.  One lady arrived 
    with a big dining-room table, another with two beds, others with glasses, 
    knives etc.  One even came with a roll of linoleum.  It did not take us long 
    to sort things and put them where they should be.
            
     
    
    The Roedean girls returned to School two days 
    before the others.  This gave them time to unpack and settle in before the 
    Edgehill girls arrived.  Our opening day in September is always a social 
    occasion.  Many parents drive their children back to school.  The cars are 
    filled tip with little brothers and sisters or other relations.  Old Girls, 
    finding it hard to keep away, drive back to look the new girls over and to 
    inspect the new mistresses.  Fathers carry luggage up.  Mothers unpack.  
    When more than the usual crowd arrived last September, they found the 
    English girls clad in their navy suits, looking spick and span and ready to 
    make friends with them helpful and sympathetic throughout, offered us his 
    own large house at a small rental to be paid at the close of war.  So we 
    came into the temporary possession of ‘King’s House.’ Next came the counting 
    of linen, 
            
     
    
    School started in the usual way and the Roedean 
    girls were soon at home among us.  They wear their Roedean uniform and we 
    wear ours.  They have introduced some Roedean customs to us, for example a 
    Dalton Day and a questions box, while some of ours seem very popular with 
    them.  They have added zest to our classes and taken part in all our 
    activities.  We are struck with the spirit of these girls.  They are 
    cheerful and buoyant, out to enjoy the experience of life in a new country 
    even if it means changes and are adjustment of many ideas.
            
     
    
    When the war is over and guests go home we hope 
    they will take with them an abiding love for Canada and Canadians together 
    with an outlook which has immensely broadened by new contacts, new ideas, 
    and a happier way of living than is possible in England just now.”
             
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     In the Edgehill review are two poems and a story 
    by my roommates, Betty and Averil and I think they are worthy of being 
    included in the story of our evacuation to Canada and convey the emotions of 
    the our exodus from Britain. 
    
      
    
    The first rather sad story is by Averil Davenport 
    – 
    Browne 
    
      
    
      
    
      
    
      
        
          
           
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    THY 
    WILL BE DONE
    
     
    
    
    It was the war of 1939. A bad storm was raging, thunder 
    was crashing and fork lightning was playing havoc across the sky. In the 
    depths of the country, somewhere in England, in a small cottage, a lady was 
    seated by the fire. Over the mantelpiece hung two pictures of men dressed 
    in the uniform of the R. A. F.; the husband and son of the lady. One was an 
    older picture but both men had the same smile and the same happy-go-lucky 
    air. A boom of thunder, the loudest yet, was heard, but the lady did not 
    seem to hear it, she sat quite still, her thoughts far away.
    
     
    
    
    She was thinking of the World War of 1914 to 1918. Her 
    husband had been a young man then, a dare-devil pilot in the R. A. F. On 
    such a night as this with the storm equally bad, he had gone up alone in his 
    plane as a volunteer to destroy an ammunition dump on the German lines. The 
    storm was it its worst as he neared his objective and luckily the thunder 
    drowned the buzz of his engines. As he dropped his deadly missiles, a 
    flash of lightning had hit his plane and the controls had gone useless. By 
    that time the plane had been heard and searchlights were seeking the skies 
    so that anti-aircraft guns could do their fatal work. Her husband had been 
    killed after a few minutes, shrapnel had pierced his heart, but by a miracle 
    the plane had come down in the Allied lines, and his body was recovered.
    
     
    
    
    The lady by the fire stirred and her eyes filled with 
    tears. Her only son who had been born just after the war was now a pilot 
    like his father before him, and was in an aerodrome in France.
    
     
    
    
    “Oh God” she had pleaded, “don’t let my son go away. He 
    is all I have.” But he had gone to fight for his country which he 
    loved; who indeed would not have done so?
    
     
    
    
    The lady by the fire stirred and her eyes filled with 
    tears [heard] singing, the heavenly choir:
    
     
    
    
    “Oh valiant hearts, who to your glory come, 
    
    
    
    Through dust of conflict and through battle flame.
    
    
    Tranquil you lie, your knightly virtue proved, 
    
    
    
    
    Your memory hallowed in the land you love.”
    
     
    
    
    “Oh God”, she whispered, “Thy will be done. Keep my son 
    safe in Thy Heavenly Home.”
    
     
    
     
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    THE ROEDYSSEY
    
    
     
    
    
    ‘Twas on 
    the 26th of June, 
    
    
    (We all were from Roedean) 
    
    
    When up to Liverpool we hied 
    
    
    Oh! what a tragic scene!
    
     
    
    
    Our fond mamas and fond papas
    
    
    Their hearts were well nigh broke,
    
    
    But their courage was undaunted
    
    
    Though all we did was croak.
    
     
    
    
    At nine o’clock, we steamed away
    
    
    From that beloved shore.
    
    
    We turned our faces to the west
    
    
    Because of this d—n war.
    
     
    
    
    Miss Marshall and Miss Briggs were there,
    
    
    We clung to them for aid,
    
    
    But then our troubles were forgot— 
    
    
    We saw the supper laid.
    
     
    
    
    We hadn’t sailed past Erin’s coast,
    
    
    (Alack! Ah woe is me!)
    
    
    The wind blew loud, the waves rose high
    
    
    And surly grew the sea.
    
     
    
    
    Then one by one we wobbled down
    
    
    And on our bunks we fell.
    
    
    And of those next two days we think
    
    
    We really should not tell.
    
    
     
         
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    At last the dreadful storm was o’er,
    
    
    We heaved a thankful sigh
    
    
    For during those tempestuous days,
    
    
    We seemed about to die.
    
     
    
    
    Thus on we sailed, on either side
    
    
     Lay ice bergs cold and bleak 
    
    
    A few days more, 
    — 
    land was espied, 
    
    
    “Hurrah” we all did shriek.
    
     
    
    
    On Thursday e’en we disembarked
    
    
    No customs we went through;
    
    
    To smile so sweetly for the press
    
    
    Was all we had to do.
    
     
    
    
    At Edgehill school our journey closed,
    
    
    At last our travels ceased;
    
    
    But oh! when we unpacked our trunks,
    
    
    We found our clothes had creased!
    
     
    
    
    Delightful summer days we spent;
    
    
    And now we’re working hard
    
    
    Except for missing everyone,
    
    
    Our joy is never marred.
    
     
    
    
    Please do not criticise too much
    
    
    Our brains are not like thine;
    
    
    For we on pumpkin pie have fed,
    
    
    And drunk Canadian wine.
        
     
    
    
    Averil Davenport Brown
    
    
    Betty Rogers.
    
     
         
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    ARRAMARILLAURIMBLEDOO
    
     
    
    “Arramarillaurimblee
    
    Lived in an ice cream cone.
    
    The roof was dyed a Prussian blue
    
    On top of a pumice stone.
    
    The windows were of astrophel
    
    The doors of gilded ash
    
    Her food was alamander jell  
    
    With sausages and mash.
    
     
    
    Arramarillaurimbledoo
    
    Knitted sleeveless sweaters
    
    And every time the cow said “Moo”
    
    She sent them in her letters.
    
    Until one day she found a worm
    
    In some treacle toffee,
    
    And from that brute she caught a germ
    
    And died from sacramoffee.”
    
     
    
    With apologies to Edward Lear and all readers (if any) of nonsense rhymes
    
    Betty Rogers and  
    
    Averil Davenport Browne.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    
       
    
      
    
      
    
    
    GROUP PICTURE 
    
    
      
    
    
    (Reading from left to right)
    
     
    
    
    R.Hurst, D. Davidson.
    
    
    R.Hurst, A. Jacob, W. Preiswerk, F. Tregunno, B. Waters, 
    D. Davidson, P. Hazeldine, P.Collins.
    
    
    S.Morse, L. Fowlow, D. Bradshaw.
    
    
    M.   House, A. Waterman.
    
    
    The Staff Wing.
    
    
    L.Benson, P. Collins.
    
    
    Miss Leonard. 
    
    
    Scene from Closing Programme.
    
    
    B.de Roode, B. Waters, S. Monies, Miss Harris.
    
    
    J.Sircom, N. Portas, A. Jacob.
    
    
    J.Sircom, L. Fowlow, D. Bradshaw, S. Morse.
    
    
    R.Hurst, D. Davidson, J. Tanner, M. Conner, A. Jacob, A. 
    Trehearne.
    
    Tobogganing.
    
      
    
    
      
    
      
    
      
    
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