An interesting WW2 memory from a staff member who had not relocated to Newland Park but had stayed at the City of London office:
Wartime at head office
WW2 10 November 2010
Subjects:
http://www.aviva.com/about-us/heritage/world-war-two/reminiscences/subjects/homefront/ - Home front
- Written by J W (Tim) Cheal of North British & Mercantile, 1949.
In 1939 when head office, London, evacuated to Newland Park, Chalfont
St Giles, I was one of the few left at “61” to hold the fort. From nine
till five we worked more or less cheerfully in an atmosphere which, to
say the least, was rather dreary.
My colleagues were good scouts all: there was Garden - happy, round
faced “Smiler” Garden - with whom it was a pleasure to work; Ernie
Salter, never at a loss for a word, with his great wealth of personal
experiences; Reg Lawrence, who bubbled with enthusiasm over the simplest
job; Mr Taylor, “the boss,” as good a chief as you could ever wish to
meet; and I mustn't forget Mrs Draper, charming and helpful always.
Others came and others went, but we went on forever! HO inspectors
used us as a permanent camping ground, while the refugees from bombed
out Stratford and Mincing Lane offices joined us subsequently. The
basement was turned into a city corporation air-raid shelter, and in my
capacity as one of the official shelter wardens I occasionally met some
rum ‘uns from outside. Our duties were many and varied, and believe me
we had plenty to do.
There was the twice daily scramble to get the messenger away to
Newland Park at 10am and again at 2pm. He took the mail, cash, and other
sundries (business and otherwise). We had requests for all kinds of
things, ranging from lighter-flints to water softeners. We, of course,
had to attend at the counter.
One incident I often recall: a very dignified gentleman came in and I
greeted him with a smile and a jolly “Good morning” unfortunately he
stuttered, and it was some moments before he was able to return my
greeting. We both persevered pleasantly and then he astonished me by
asking for a stamp. Assuming him to be a client of the company, and with
our motto “Civility and Service” in mind, I took out my wallet to
oblige, which surprised him very much.
Yes, he had mistaken us for the post office next door. This was quite a common error during the war!
On another occasion a soldier strode boldly in with a parcel under
his arm, but suddenly sensing something wrong, he took a swift glance
round and said in a loud voice, “Blimey, the North British. What a ruddy
fool I am!”
I remember ferreting one day in the sub-basement for some documents
urgently required by a department at Newland Park. Suddenly the office
shook, the basement shook, and oh how I shook! Something had fallen
close enough to “61” to be rather unpleasant. Without much dignity I
bolted upstairs to be greeted by Garden: “Oh, Tim, you heard us knock,
then!”
It wasn't all comedy, however. One morning I arrived at the office
prepared for the usual cheery greetings and braced for any of the
customary leg pulls, but heard that Lawrence, who often arrived very
early, had not turned up. I later learned with deep regret that he had
been killed in an air raid the night before.
Like our colleagues at Newland Park we had our transport troubles.
After a severe bombing, kiosks appeared in the city where patient
transport officials gave advice upon “how to get home from here.” I
remember on one of these occasions approaching one and enquiring about
transport to Tonbridge. The official looked at me and said, “You've had
it, chum.” that meant the line had been jiggered up, so that night I
slept on a stretcher in the basement at head office and woke to find
that cold breakfast, including cold tea, was on offer. The gas main had
been hit!
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