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 Works Civil Defence maintained cover at all times. Saturday night duty made it difficult to get home. transport was so restricted. Only connections to Birmingham were a bus from a small town eight miles away at 8am, the only one before dinner time, or a train from another town five miles away at mid-day.

 In the Cricket Season occasionally the staff would invite me to make the number up in a game at the nearby public school where they had permission to use the beautiful cricket field. Never very fond of cricket. Some of the blokes cut a dash with the white flannels etc. Talk about Drake playing bowls with the Armada in the Channel!! I took the opportunity at week-ends to visit some of the homes of locals who worked at the factory. To a Rock House, with all rooms dug out of solid sandstone. Seemed very comfortable and according to the occupants was cool in summer and warm in winter. And to another house at the top of the hill, The only path was scores of steps cut into the hillside. What a task the builder had carrying bricks and building materials up there. It had a well too with plenty of water in it that was extracted in a most unusual way. I had never seen anything like it before. Something like a cycle chain wheel was mounted at the top with handles instead of pedals. A free-wheel was fixed low down in the well. The chain that connected and travelled from top to bottom when cranked had tiny cups attached to the chain links which picked up water, depositing it into a shute and into a bucket. Simple It came from Germany I was told. The chap from the Rock house worked in the Spring Testing Department, just above mine. The noise was deafening, like a dozen aircraft engines, yet he would have a nap during the dinner break without any trouble. Springs had a severe 24hr continuous running test. If any doubts, a further 24hrs onto that. He was away from work sick for some weeks. He had to have a stone removed from the kidneys, and showed it to all and sundry. A whopper it was. Must have built up from the sand in the well water he drank! It is possible.

 Within a week or so of settling in at Drakelow an invitation came to those of us in the works Civil Defence to a meeting and lecture run by the local group. The need for Civil Defence in such a remote area is beyond me. I suppose the presence of our works, although practically invisible and two miles away did put them on the fringe of a danger area. The meeting took place in (and it took some finding in the wilderness and blackout) the original building - about 1660 - of a famous Public School. It was now the Village Hall. A great lofty place with massive pillars built to last forever. It looked eerie with poor blackout lighting. We were welcomed to the fold. Suppose they thought we should be of help to them if any untoward happened. Nothing ever did I'm glad to say. We had had enough over the past two years and in any case bombing was non-existent at this time. The nearest bombs to fall hereabouts had been three miles away from the nearest small town. Locals still spoke of it with "Bated Breath" Their good fortune was the reason why industry was dispersed to the area. Sometimes I got the feeling that they would sooner have had the bombs!

 As usual when lots of people are thrown together, after a while like attracts like. Grouping of interests drawing folk together. The 'boozers'(and they were in the majority), went off to the Hostel pub in the evenings. When they had drunk the pubs allocation dry, an excursion to the nearby village pubs would be arranged, after getting the Welfare Office to find where the beer was on. Although it meant walking miles they did it, and some of the girls went along too. Darts was enjoying a revival of popularity in pubs. Sets of darts were hard to come by. Flights were often home-made from all sorts of odd materials, some from the stiff linen folds of our finishing mops. My chaps did a roaring trade in these, sharpening the points ready for the evening matches.

 Towards the end of the war the Rover Fishing Club ran a few competitions. All my blokes were fishermen. On the Saturday of the match , it was almost impossible to get them down to work. The chief anxiety was whether the 'wollop' was ordered, or if it was enough.

 Inevitably the teetotallers drifted together. Snooker, Table Tennis, Darts fill in the evening. i.e. until the pubs closed, then the boozers took over. The same faces at the same time. There never was much spare time. Eleven hour shifts, First Aid classes, Civil Defence duties didn't leave much of that. Sometimes Les Wells would kid me to accompany him on his pre-retiring stroll. It was embarrasing at times to meet some of our ' Dark-horse ' couples on the way. The same pattern followed at the works. After mid-day lunch the drinkers went to the Bar. Teetotallers to the Games room. There were a few fresh faces for the locals, who by now were in the majority of the works personnel, used the facilities provided. There was a lot af talent around. Many good set-toos my partner at table tennis Doug Winters and I had at doubles. Les Wells and myself teamed up for Snooker. Doug had a girl friend. Millie Parton came from the potteries. Nice girl. Lost a brother at sea whilst serving in the Merchant Navy. Doug bunked in another room in our hut. Later when Les Wells went back to Birmingham , Doug came to my Chalet. When he moved in l thought he was bringing in a sports outfitters. Football boots, case ball, cricket bats and pads. I had never seen such a collection. He played for Rover at football and Cricket. A stocky chap, stripped he looked massive. About 5ft 6" and about 13 stone with tummy to match. He played back - must have been a fearsome sight to opposing forwards. We got on well together. He was a bit of a night-owler though, always out at night. Often I wish I had got around more, but responsibilities to the works didn't allow me much time. I was too tired anyway.

 A middle-aged woman Mrs. Baker was the senior Inspector in my Department. she had, together with her Husband, a small holding a short way from the works. I went there to see it (about two acres). In peacetime, they lived off it. One Sunday morning l set off over the unsignposted common-land, making for a place about four miles away, where Nell and l stayed in our courting days. By great good fortune I came out just in the right spot. I have always been proud of that feet of navigation. Thejunior Inspector, Beryl, mentioned earlier and who was such a success at our concerts singing the latest songs like a professional. Our pianist Mr. Parr who knows about such things, said she had a natural talent for entertainment. Polishing Shops are renowned for being rough and tough. Mrs. Baker and Beryl were always treated with respect. The lads turned out in force to give Beryl support on concert days - yes rough and tough maybe, but loyal, hardworking and unchallenged leaders of the "Boozers" who led the field on the 'forage' abroard when all the beer had been consumed at the Hostel pub And who got the Welfare Officer phoning round to find the nearest garden of plenty. Sometimes a small village pub a few miles away, over bridle paths and common land. I would lie abed and hear them singing away full of pep on their way home. 7.30am next morning at the bench they looked anything but gay.

 To their credit the Polishers were never in trouble, never a nuisance. Midweek expeditions to near-by small towns frequently ended with some missing the last bus which left just before closing time. The last drink meant a five mile walk home. Local Police had a regular trade in recovering borrowed cars and cycles. The oddest one was Cyril Ward's hand propelled basket type invalid tricycle, an old type with a cycle chain wheel with handles instead of pedals that when turned operated via gears and chain the driving wheels the single front wheel was for steering being coupled direct to the chain wheel. An awkward vehicle to manage at the best of times. Cyril's only comments were "I bet the bloke it belonged to hadn't a leg to stand on" and "I'd like to have seen the Policeman driving it back, the only way is to sit in it and pedal it by hand" were typical of the man, the least popular in my department.

 Now, and it almost reads like an after thought after all I have written about the social life at Drakelow, a bit about the family. One parent families and their problems are in the 70' s a major talking point. During the war there were millions of cases where the Wife was left alone to battle on, to make all the decisions normally taken by the Husband, Rationing added to the difficulties. Seperation for men called off to the forces was, after a short period, often complete. Those in industry who were transferred to work several hundreds of miles from home were in a similar position. The Scotties at Drakelow had but two leaves a year at Summer and at New Year. Others, like me, who were nearer home could get back to the family for a few hours at least once a fortnight. It was noticeable that those who were really cut off from the family settled down and were much happier than those who could, and did, go home every week, Some, it could be said, lived away from home, others only slept away. Home every week must have put a strain on the families rations. Emergency ration Cards were available only every four or five weeks. That was the week we were welcomed with open arms. It must have been a welcome change when a wife came as a visitor to the Hostel for a few days just not to have to worry about ekeing out the rations.

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