I was born during WW2, in Worthing. My grandmother lived in Washington, Heath Common area, in a cottage near the bend in the road leading to Storrington as far as I can remember. My mother and I lived there during the war while my father was abroad in the RAMC. It’s possible my mother worked on the land at Goatchers Nurseries during that time. The cottage had a long garden, and an old well which was in use.
My grandparents were Owen Mortimer Bartlett, who had a dental practice in Worthing, and Hilda Mary Bartlett. My mother’s name was Lydia.
I believe the cottage was owned by Goatchers – I visited Washington around 1979 or 80 and took a couple of photos of it, but there had been some changes to it I think. Goatchers Nurseries was still in existence then. At that time I also took a picture of what looked like a new building near the cottage.
During WW2 I remember Canadian soldiers, with tanks, passing by the cottage. I used to stand outside and wave to them.
My grandmother was very nervous, and I remember whenever she heard the sound of approaching aircraft, she would dive under the kitchen table crying "They’re coming to bomb us" repeatedly. As soon as my mother or grandfather identified the aircraft as allied, she would come out from under, saying fondly "It’s our boys!". This was virtually a daily occurrence.
I do not remember other children in the area at the time. Local people "spoiled" me by bringing me their chocolate and sweet rations, and my mother and grandparents were grateful for the occasional rabbit or hare which came our way. The family name of Settatree is familiar to me but I can’t remember anyone as I was only a toddler at the time.
After the war, my grandparents moved into a bungalow around the corner – I believe the address was just "The Bungalow, Heath Common". The bungalow belonged to Mr Blackman who lived next door, and owned a fish and chip shop in Worthing. I remember Mr Blackman had a daughter and a younger son who was nicknamed "Bundle" by his sister.
On one occasion, my grandfather left me in his parked car on the grass verge outside the bungalow, and I got bored and released the handbrake. The car started rolling backwards into the road. I was too terrified to reapply the brake and my screams alerted grandfather who saved both me and the car from possible disaster. Result was one very angry grandfather and a cuddle from grandmother who said my fear was punishment enough!
My grandfather was a keen photographer and developed and printed his own photos in a dark room accessed from the rear of the bungalow. He also grew Virginia tobacco in the garden, and cured it himself. They were both keen gardeners. My grandmother loved her flowers; I can never see or smell sweet peas without thinking of her. They grew their own vegetables - I remember her delicious runner beans.
My grandparents were about to move out of the bungalow when my grandfather died. My grandmother came to live with my family in London, and died a few months later in December, 1954.
Mary Ambrose