Day the King came to stay in a seafront hotel

He had with him his faithful dog Caesar, who was patted and stroked as he entered the hall behind his master (when the King died a few years later, Caesar walked in the funeral procession behind his coffin in the charge of a kilted soldier).

One of the highlights of the school year was the celebration of May Day with the crowning of the May queen and her attendants, with perhaps maypole dancing; there was also Empire Day ( later re-named Commonwealth Day) when the boys and girls might dress up to represent children from around the world, from Africa to Australia, from Ireland to India (they happened to have a model elephant). With Britannia reigning over all, they made a brave and patriotic show.

Some of these events were what you might call joint efforts with no known leader - a good example was the incident of the little Hull trawler stranded with a full load at Tide Mills. About then, the local lads were awaiting the annual apple-scrumping raid from their near-enemies in town'¦but that time, they were ready for them! As the raiders closed in, they were met with a barrage of the stinking fish that had been left for some days in the hold of the trawler. 'Them boys didn't come again for a few years', eyewitness Stan told me in his old age.

Many years later, boys had cause to remember another mass exodus: word went round the school that a shipwreck that day had 'left sweeties all over the beach'. As soon as school was out, the children rushed to the shore 'and scoffed all they could'. Oh dear! No one had told them the 'sweeties' were raw liquorice'¦'Oh, Mrs Berry! There wasn't many boys in school next day, and them as was spent all their time queued up for the lavvie!' Something like a repeat of this event occurred when trial packs of Ex-Lax were delivered unsolicited to many houses in the town.

After too short a period of peace '“ and coming for so many folk, twice in a lifetime '“ a mere 30 years on, the threat of war came again. It had been averted in 1938, when some families temporarily left London for safer areas but, a year later on September 3, 1939 as war was declared, much larger numbers were evacuated to the south-east area, deemed safe from attack.

Local families and schools had to find room for many extra children. Hardly had anyone become accustomed to these arrangements than there was further upheaval: the fall of France brought the enemy to our very doorstep. Not only had the recent arrivals to be moved to somewhere safer, but now the local children must go too! Thus it was that many Seaford boys and girls spent their formative years far away from their home town.

Those that stayed behind still recall some of the strange and exciting things that happened: the rationing, the shortages, the adults in uniform, the strangers who came among us. There was great sadness whenever friends were lost, as after the disastrous raid on Dieppe. Close to home, there was the constant fear of enemy air attack. With sneak raids on our coast, children became used to being put to bed under the kitchen table (or other safer shelter). Frank remembers waking one morning with the ceiling fallen on top of him '“ he had slept undisturbed through an air raid overhead. Another time, children at Church Street school were at dinner when without warning a low-flying enemy plane, taking advantage of a sea mist, dropped a stick of bombs on neighbouring Pelham Place. The children complained because plaster, shaken from the classroom ceilings, fell into their rhubarb and custard but, only one street away, dreadful, deadly serious things were happening.

When the ARP and other rescue workers arrived, they found an enormous heap of rubble where several four-storey houses had stood (including one where Mrs Winston Churchill had lived as a girl.) From the ruins they brought out the bodies of five female victims; they found among the survivors 15-year-old Betty, an office worker and Blatchington Girl Guide. It was six hours before they could release her, but Betty lived up to her Girl Guide motto to stay cheerful, talking and even joking with her rescuers. She was a long time in hospital and had some distinguished Guiding visitors to her bedside, including Princess Mary, the Princess Royal. Her courage also received special mention at local council meetings and elsewhere.

Leading up to D-Day and the invasion of Europe, children had grown used to seeing army vehicles parked at the roadside overnight (and probably cadged sweets and gum). Then one morning they were all gone 'and we knew they had gone into battle.' The tide of war gradually turned till on May 8, 1945 hostilities in Europe ended officially, followed three months later by surrender of Far Eastern forces.

Those of our children who had been evacuated were able to come home and little by little life resumed though it could never be quite the same. There were too many gaps in families, too many social changes ever to turn the clock back. On January 7, 1946 local mothers organised a Welcome Home party for their youngsters.

PAT BERRY